“You’re under the jurisdiction of the FBI and Homeland Security, and you don’t get to lawyer up until we say you do.”
Ashley’s mouth sagged open in shock. Her bottom lip started to tremble, but she wasn’t about to give in to tears and emotion. This would all be straightened out soon enough. And when it was, she was determined to sue his sorry butt.
“What is your name?” she asked, ever so sweetly, because she intended to memorize it for when the time came to file a lawsuit against the federal government.
“Officer Jordan Wilkes at your service.”
“You must be a direct descendant of John Wilkes Booth,” she said without humor.
His smile was just short of maniacal. “As a matter of fact, there is a family link to the assassin who killed Abraham Lincoln.”
“You say that with such pride, too,” she scoffed, forgetting her earlier decision to remain silent.
Looking out the window, she noticed that Dash wasn’t taking kindly to being restrained. He stepped back and shook his head, all the while arguing. Ashley could see he wasn’t able to reason with them any better than she had. She didn’t know what this was about, but she had a strong feeling she would soon find out.
When the man referred to as Buckley returned, he joined Agent Wilkes in the front seat. With a motorcycle escort they eased back onto the freeway. As she passed Dash, he captured her gaze and offered her a small smile of reassurance. In those brief seconds he seemed to be telling her that no matter what happened, he’d get this resolved.
Once back on the freeway, an escort led the way to Eugene, Oregon. They traveled with lights flashing, as if this was a motorcade with some high-ranking dignitary. Ashley wasn’t fooled—she could tell she wasn’t going to be treated like royalty. Still, she remained completely oblivious as to what she’d done or was suspected of having done to warrant all this attention.
They arrived at what she could only assume was a police station. Ashley was helped out of the car and led down a long, narrow hallway to an interrogation room. Once inside, her hands were freed and she was left alone.
Left alone for hours…or what seemed like hours.
This happened in the procedural shows she routinely watched, so it wasn’t completely unexpected. Still, it played with her mind, which she supposed was the purpose. She sat tense and apprehensive, wondering about Dash and Little Blade. In an effort to calm her nerves, she closed her eyes and remembered the look that had come over Dash’s face just before he leaned in and kissed her the last time. The memory produced a lazy, happy smile.
As time progressed, Ashley grew worried. If the authorities detained him, he might miss his interview. She couldn’t think about that. She could only hope that he’d be released soon so he could get to Seattle on time.
After what seemed like endless hours, Ashley lost track of how long she’d been left alone in the room. She suspected it was late into the afternoon when Agent Wilkes stepped in, holding a pad and pen just the way Gibbs did in NCIS.
He pulled out the chair, causing the legs to make a scraping sound against the concrete floor. This was probably an intimidation tactic.
Ashley resisted telling him she was onto his game. Instead, she smiled calmly, letting him know she wasn’t the least bit nervous. Eventually, Agent Wilkes would be forced to admit he was in the wrong. Leaning back in her chair, she stretched out her arms and clasped her hands together on top of the table.
She waited for him to speak first. He didn’t. Instead, he made an elaborate show of taking off his watch and setting it on the table. Apparently, he was timing her answers.
When he spoke his voice was curt. “Name.”
“That which is usually given to a child at birth,” she replied, saying the first thing that came to mind.
He was not amused. “What is your name?”
“It’s on my driver’s license in my purse, which you have confiscated.”
“Humor me. What is your name?”
“Ashley Gene Davison.”
He cracked a smile as if he’d caught her in a lie.
“And that’s Gene with a G rather than a J.” This small detail had caused her untold troubles since the time she started school.
“Isn’t that rather unusual?”
She was convinced that the more the agent got her to talk, the more likely she was to make a mistake.
Ashley hesitated, unsure it was wise to explain herself. “My middle name is spelled G-E-N-E. I was supposed to be a boy and my dad promised my uncle he would name his baby after him, so it’s spelled in the masculine form.”
Wilkes made a notation on the tablet, but it was clear he didn’t believe her.
“Your home address.”
“Seattle or California?”
“Either.”
She complied with both. “Can I ask you a question?”
He glanced up from the tablet but didn’t answer.
“Where are Dash and Little Blade? Dash has an important interview this afternoon. He needs to be in Seattle. Can you make that happen?”
“Your hostage is being debriefed.”
“Debriefed?” she repeated, and then half rose from the table as his words connected with her brain. “My hostage?”
“Are you people out of your minds?” Dash demanded, glaring across the table at Wilkes. “How many times do I have to tell you I am not a hostage.”
Wilkes didn’t respond. Agent Buckley was on the other side of the two-way mirror, taking in Wilkes’s interviewing techniques. The young agent had a lot to learn, but he was coming along nicely.
Wilkes didn’t feel the need to respond to Sutherland’s question. He actually felt sorry for Dashiell Sutherland. The man didn’t have a clue of the danger he’d been in, nor did he realize he’d been a pawn for one of the deadliest criminals on the FBI Most Wanted list.
After interviewing Ashley Davison for nearly two frustrating hours, he’d set about getting the information he needed from Sutherland.
Wilkes remained undaunted. Davison had adamantly insisted she wasn’t the woman he sought. He had to admit she sounded believable, which only went to prove how good she was. She came off as sincere and honest. A less-experienced agent might be tempted to believe her.
It was only a matter of time before she cracked, and crack she would, but it would take diligence and expertise for that. Wilkes felt equal to the challenge.
“Can you explain again about the loss of your phone?” Wilkes asked, ever patient and in control.
“Losing my phone was an accident,” Sutherland insisted. “I put it inside my coat pocket and then tossed it into the backseat. As best I can figure, that’s when it fell out of the car.”
“Were you distracted?”
“What do you mean by distracted?” The other man’s eyes narrowed with the question.
Wilkes explained, “Did Ms. Davison do anything to avert your attention?”
“No,” he returned, with more than a hint of defiance. “Would you listen to me? Losing the phone was an accident.”
“Did she flirt with you?”
“When?”
“When you put your coat in the car,” Wilkes asked.
“Hardly,” Sutherland said, and then smiled. His look had been angry and defensive just seconds earlier, and the sudden transformation came as a shock.
“You find that humorous?”
“Actually, I do. Ashley was convinced she couldn’t trust me. It was only after she spoke with my mother and got reassurances that I wasn’t a serial killer that she even agreed to share the car with me. Trust me, there was no flirting from either one of us. I was annoyed by her—she was annoyed by me.”
Again, Wilkes had to admit that the woman was brilliant. She’d managed to kidnap this man—a former army intelligence officer, no less—and convinced him that she was nothing more than a starving grad student. She even had him believing she was headed to Seattle for Christmas with her widowed mother. He grudgingly had to admire such talent.
“What can you tell me about the dog?”
“What’s there to tell that I haven’t already explained to the other officer? The puppies were abandoned at the rest stop. Ashley decided to rescue one and give it to her mother as a Christmas gift.”
“And you believed her?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
Wilkes saw no need to answer. The poor guy was delusional. Wilkes actually felt sorry for him. He’d been duped by a master.
“Okay,” Sutherland said with exaggerated patience. “I left Ashley in the rest stop parking lot. If she was a criminal mastermind, the way you claim, do you seriously think she would have let me drive off?” He held his hands palms up, as if to say what Wilkes had suggested was utter nonsense.
And it was true, Ashley Davison had taken a gamble, letting Sutherland voluntarily leave. But by that time she’d managed to play on Dash Sutherland’s generous nature. She’d been able to convince him that returning to the rest stop for her and the dog was all his idea. Wilkes still didn’t know how the puppy played into this scenario, but he’d find out eventually. The dog was a sweet one, and it curdled his stomach to imagine what twisted plan this evil woman had set in motion.
Wilkes studied Sutherland sitting across from him and asked what should have been obvious: “Did you ever consider the fact that she knew you’d eventually return for her and the puppy?”
“How could she?” Dash asked defiantly. “I didn’t know it. I had no intention of turning around until my conscience demanded that I not leave her. She would have been stuck there. Listen,” he continued, forcefully expelling his breath in an apparent effort to control his temper. “I spent the last four years in army intelligence. I’m a good judge of character, and I’m telling you this woman is no criminal mastermind.”
Wilkes appreciated the other man’s sincerity, but clearly Sutherland didn’t have a clue.
“What about the license plates—”
“Some kids were responsible for that,” the other man broke in. “We actually spoke to them, although we didn’t realize what they’d done at the time.”
“You say she couldn’t have arranged switching license plates in advance?”
“How could she?” He tossed his hands up in what looked like abject frustration.
“You were together every minute?” Wilkes didn’t know how she’d done it, but she had arranged the switch. There could be no question that she’d somehow set it up in advance.
“Ash and I were together almost every minute.”
That was all Wilkes needed to know. “Are you saying that it’s out of the realm of possibility that she orchestrated it beforehand?”
“Yes. For you to even suggest it tells me you don’t know what you’re talking about. Ashley had no idea where we were going to stop or how long we’d be inside the building.”
“She could have had you followed.”
“That’s a possibility,” he conceded, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. At last Wilkes was getting somewhere. As with most interrogations, the suspect had started to crack. Wilkes had actually thought it would take longer, seeing that Sutherland had been in the military.
“You’re right,” Sutherland said. “It is possible, but it didn’t happen. You have the wrong woman.”
So breaking Dash Sutherland wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as Wilkes had hoped. With a flash of insight, he understood why.
“You’re falling in love with her, aren’t you?”
Sutherland jerked his head up and pinched his lips together.
Wilkes thought so.
“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger. That didn’t take long, did it? She batted her eyelashes at you and within a matter of hours you were under her control.”
Sutherland’s eyes held fire as he glared back at him.
“You were her pawn and you fell neatly into that role.”
Dash jumped to his feet. “You’re full of it, Agent Wilkes. Ashley is no more a criminal mastermind than I am. She’s a graduate student and a wonderful, caring woman who loves her family. You are so off base it sickens me.”
Wilkes had thought to anger the other man and Sutherland had taken the bait. Wilkes had gotten the reaction he’d hoped to achieve.
“So you are in love with her.”
“My feelings for Ashley don’t come into play here.”
“You’re wrong,” Wilkes said, coming to his feet as well. “Sit down, Sutherland.” He waited until the other man reclaimed his seat, and then Wilkes left the room.
Agent Buckley met him on the other side of the door. “Sutherland is clearly convinced we have the wrong woman,” he said, and from the way he said it, Wilkes thought the junior agent agreed.
“I have two words for you,” Wilkes said: “Stockholm syndrome.”
“What?”
“The term comes from an incident that happened back in the seventies, when bank robbers held hostages for several days. By the time they were rescued, the hostages were fighting the police in order to protect the robbers. In the end, one of the women actually became engaged to one of the men. And don’t forget Patty Hearst.”
“I know what Stockholm syndrome is. Do you really think Dashiell Sutherland is suffering from it?”
“He clearly has deep feelings for her.” Wilkes decided to test his theory. “Let me try something.”
“Okay.”
Wilkes returned to the other room. Sutherland regarded him with brooding eyes.
“I believe you’ve answered all our questions, Mr. Sutherland. You’re free to go.”
Sutherland shook his head. “I’m not leaving here without Ashley and the puppy. Then and only then will I leave this building.”
Wilkes smiled. The other man’s response told him everything he needed to know.
Ashley had been awake all night and was at the point of mental and physical exhaustion. Even now, she couldn’t understand how she’d managed to walk into this nightmare. Nothing made sense. And worse, no matter how adamantly she’d declared her innocence, she hadn’t been able to convince Agent Wilkes that she wasn’t the dangerous felon on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. By the time morning, or what she assumed was morning, had rolled around, she was dopey and distraught.
She was alone now. She’d asked about Dash and Little Blade several times, but no one would volunteer any information. She had to assume the puppy was also in a holding cell. She prayed that Dash had been released and had left for Seattle in enough time to make his interview. It was difficult to keep her spirits up and not dissolve into tears. This had to be the worst Christmas of her life. And now—and this was even worse—no one was talking to her. Alone in a cell, she had nothing to do but dwell on the injustice of it all.
Ashley laid her head down on the bed and closed her eyes, only to hear the outer door open. When she looked up she saw Agent Buckley. She liked him better than the older agent, who kept insisting she wasn’t a grad student but a despicable felon intent on terrorist activity.
“How are you holding up?” Buckley asked.
Her eyes had blurred from lack of sleep. “Okay, I guess.” But she wasn’t okay. She was sad and miserable, and she wanted her mother.
“Well, I have news that should cheer you up,” Agent Buckley said, offering her a smile. “You’re free to go.”
Ashley leaped off the bed as if someone had lit it on fire. She rushed to the door. “You believe me? You know who I really am? What happened to change your mind?”
“It only took a few minutes to verify your story. Unfortunately, Agent Wilkes refused to believe it.”
“Is that the commotion I heard?” At one point, Ashley had heard arguing, lots of arguing. The loudest voice seemed to be Agent Wilkes’s. He’d kept insisting he knew what he was doing and warning the others not to be fooled. Ashley had been afraid to hope that his colleagues were unconvinced.
“I’m afraid Agent Wilkes had something of a mental collapse. He’ll be taking a
leave of absence from the bureau.”
Ashley supposed if she were a better person she’d feel sorry about that. But after this ordeal that might have even cost Dash a possible job, she couldn’t pretend she did.
“We have confirmation that the Ashley Davison we want is in Mexico.”
“That’s good to know.”
“All your personal items will be returned to you in short order.”
“Thank you,” Ashley said, doing her best to smile. Her biggest concerns—well, other than Dash and the puppy—were her purse and coat. “What about Little Blade?”
The agent escorted her past a long line of locked cell doors. “I believe the puppy is currently with Mr. Sutherland.”
“Oh.” She did her best to hold back the urge to weep. That meant she was truly alone now. Dash had Little Blade with him, and the two were on their way to Seattle. Worrying about the puppy was only a small part of her problem, however. Ashley was stuck in Eugene, Oregon, with no way of getting to Seattle.
Being led to the front of the building, it didn’t take long for her to sign off on her personal items. Once she had her coat and purse, she was released into a foyer. With her head hanging low, and holding back tears, she stepped into the room. The first thing she noticed was that it was snowing again, giant flakes coming down outside the lobby windows. She turned back to ask about where she might catch a bus to Seattle, when she heard her name.
“Ashley.”
On the far side of the room sat Dash. He had Little Blade with him, and the puppy was on a leash. For one wild moment all she could do was stare in disbelief. Without thought, Ashley raced across the room and threw herself into Dash’s arms. Never in all her life had she been happier to see anyone.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, hugging him so close it was a wonder Dash could breathe. “What about your interview? You should be in Seattle. Did you come back for me?” She didn’t give him time to answer. Instead, she was kissing his beautiful face, so happy to see him that she was beyond self-restraint.
It didn’t take Dash long to take hold of her head and to kiss her back, hugging her with the same intensity with which she held on to him.
Dashing Through the Snow Page 13
