a file and handed it to a very frustrated Banner. He opened it, looked inside. At first Sean thought that this was a ploy—that he’d pretend it was the ballistics report or something incriminating.
Banner looked at him and said, “A rag was found with the gun we found in your plane. That rag had what appeared to be blood. I now have that confirmed. It’s the same blood type as Mona Hill’s. This is all I need to fry you, Rogan.”
Sean had had it. “Do you think if I had killed anyone that I would keep the fucking gun and bloody rag on my property?”
Felicity put her hand on his arm. He bit back his next comment, but he could see the frame job as clear as day.
“I think,” Banner said, “that if you were angry, Mr. Rogan, you are capable of anything.”
“You idiot. I’m being set up!”
“Sean—” Felicity said.
Banner interrupted. “Every man and woman I’ve arrested has told me, in the face of hard physical evidence, that they’re being framed. That someone’s out to get them.”
He clenched his teeth. He needed to get out of here. He felt trapped.
“You were a client, weren’t you?” Mendez said. “Traveled all the way to Houston so your wife wouldn’t find out? And you killed her when she threatened you, threatened to tell your wife. Maybe she was blackmailing you, and you snapped.”
Sean stared at her and did not respond. That’s what they thought? That was their theory?
“I’m done,” he said.
“We’ve been in here for three hours,” Felicity said. “Give us a fifteen-minute break.”
Banner didn’t want to leave, and he was angry with Mendez. Good. He should be. He grabbed his file and walked out.
Felicity made sure the recording was off and said, “Sean, you need to pull it together.”
“That’s their theory? That I was being blackmailed by a prostitute? I’m not going to entertain that fucking idea.”
“And your anger is going to be taken as a sign of guilt.”
“You think if your husband”—he gestured to her wedding ring—“was accused of hiring a prostitute that he would just laugh it off? Or would he want to deck the accuser?”
“I understand that your reaction is normal, but you need to dial it back, okay?”
“They’re not going to let me out tonight, you and I both know it.”
“Finding Mona’s blood in your plane gives them the evidence they need.”
“They didn’t have it when they arrested me.”
“They would have. They were thinking they were in the process of getting a warrant. I agree they jumped the gun, but thinking as they were, they thought you might be able to destroy the evidence or that you might run if you heard they were searching your plane. Their gamble paid off.”
He stared at her. “You’re a defense lawyer. You have defended guilty people and innocent people. I have a lot of respect for defense lawyers because I know that the system doesn’t always work, that cops get an idea in their head and the only person on your side is the lawyer to defend your rights. I know that there are some innocent people in prison, as well as the guilty. But I’m only going to tell you this one more time, Felicity: I did not kill Mona Hill. Whoever killed her, planted the gun and the rag in my plane. Elise Hunt is behind this—whether she pulled the trigger or not. My family is in danger, which is why this is happening. My wife. My son. My brother. I don’t think you understand what the Hunt family is capable of!”
“Don’t raise your voice, Sean,” Felicity said. “Especially not to me. I am on your side.”
He bit back his anger. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he was so damn frustrated he could cry. “I’m sorry.”
She let out a long breath. “I understand what you’re going through. The physical evidence is difficult for us, but it’s not insurmountable. The airfield where you store your plane isn’t secure, there isn’t staff on site twenty-four hours a day.”
Sean felt so trapped. He had no control, and Felicity was his only line to the outside.
“One weekend, Sean. They don’t have enough to stop you from posting bond. I will fight tooth and nail for you. We’ll agree to an ankle monitor if we have to. Or house arrest. One weekend. Less than seventy-two hours.”
She was trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working.
He had a sick feeling he wouldn’t be alive in seventy-two hours. He didn’t kill Mona, but