“I strongly advise you to plead the fifth—”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
Usually, I’d welcome her determination, but now isn’t the time for her to grow a backbone. “Please don’t be stupid. They’re here to charge you with conspiracy in aiding and abetting a criminal by supplying him with official government documents. If you don’t plead the fifth, you’re looking at over twenty years in jail.”
“Why?” She looks incapable of sucking in an entire breath. “I’ve never given Is—”
“Shut up! I can’t guarantee they don’t have ears in here.” I press my hands onto the white melamine tabletop before tilting closer to Isabelle. “Plead the fifth, then I’ll do everything in my power to help you through this.”
The plan Phillipa and I devised is risky, but the massive web I mentioned months ago grew tenfold over the weekend. It affects more people than we realized, including Isabelle. Her pleading the fifth won’t stop Theresa’s witch-hunt from occurring, but it will bide us some time to sort through the huge conspiracy that’s been clouding my judgment the past umpteenth years.
Isabelle doesn’t appear pleased with my suggestion. However, she lowers her chin, agreeing to do as I suggested. Her agreement eases the knot twisted in my stomach, grateful she trusts me enough to know I wouldn’t push her to do this unless it was vital.
“I’ll stay with you during your interview, but no matter what they say or do, continuously plead the fifth.”
The color drains from her face as she once again nods.
Not long after that, Agent Theresa and her partner re-enter the room. “Your five minutes are up.” Theresa arrogantly motions her head to the door, giving me my marching orders.
The haughty gleam in her eyes douses when I disclose, “Isabelle has requested a union representative be present during her interview.”
Theresa’s eyes snap to Isabelle’s. “Is that correct, Isabelle?”
Isabelle’s nod this time around is more affirmative than her previous two. “Yes, that’s correct.”
With her growl hidden by her frantic breaths, Theresa closes the door with force before moving toward a stack of chairs to gather me one. Once she rams it into my thigh, she joins her partner on the other side of the desk. When she ribs him with her elbow, her eagerness to conduct her interview is exposed, much less what she says next. “Are you in a relationship with Isaac Holt?”
Smugness swells my chest when Isabelle responds, “I plead the fifth.”
As Theresa’s brow shoots up high on her face, she wiggles her index finger in her ear. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I plead the fifth amendment,” Isabelle repeats, her tone higher and more confident than what it was seconds ago.
Never one to back down when sitting across from a woman as equally smart as her, Theresa switches tactics. “Are you in a sexual relationship with Isaac Holt?”
It’s the fight of my life to hide my cringe when Isabelle says, “I plead the fifth.” Her declaration this time around wasn’t as confident, and Theresa is more than willing to use it to her advantage.
“Have you had physical contact with Isaac Holt since your placement commenced in this division of the FBI?”
“I plead the fifth.”
There she is. Back stronger than ever.
When Theresa spots the smirk I’m unable to conceal, her eyes rocket to mine. “She’s clever. A rookie agent knowing to plead the fifth. Who would have thought?”
My smirk grows, loving that she believes this plan was solely my idea. That means she has no clue not even agents from her department like her.
After returning her slit gaze to Isabelle, Theresa asks, “Are you planning to answer any of my questions, Ms. Brahn, or will you continue pleading the fifth amendment?”
Her partner chuckles when Isabelle parrots, “I plead the fifth.” I realize I underestimated her as much as Theresa when she adds, “I choose not to answer your questions on the consideration that I may be unwillingly incriminating myself.”
I’m tempted to wiggle my finger in my ear like Theresa did earlier when the feet of Theresa’s chair scrape across the worn floorboards. After removing the sweat from her hands by dragging them down her stiff-as-a-board blouse, she gathers a manila folder from a briefcase cracked open on the edge of the boardroom-size desk. “You read a law book during your training… impressive.” She uses Isabelle’s seated position as an intimidation tactic by towering over her. “So, you’re aware prostitution is illegal?”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Even lost as to where Theresa is going with her investigation, I squeeze Isabelle’s thigh, wordlessly