by Karen Reis
“Yeah right,” he said to me, obviously not believing me. “Let’s go,” and he pushed me roughly towards their car.
“Am I under arrest?” I asked, daring to speak.
“We’ll see,” the man who held me said. His partner opened the door, and my handler tried to shove me inside. The backseat was a cage. I balked at going in.
“We’ll see?” I shrieked, visions of being held in a dank prison without due process flashing before my eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”
The agent holding on to me didn’t answer; he just shoved harder, and I fell into the backseat, banging my head against one of the bars of my cage. I refused to shut up, though. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong! You can’t just handcuff me and cart me away! There are laws!”
Both agents ignored me.
Seattle has its own FBI headquarters, which is in a big ugly concrete building down on 3rd Avenue. I was hustled inside while I tried not to weep from terror. I was stuck inside a small and ugly interrogation room and left there for quite a while to worry and pace. Its walls were painted a stark white, and ugly military green linoleum graced the floor. The air in there smelled like sweat and fart and Lysol. There was the ever present two way mirror, which showed me only my own image, which was not that great looking after my encounter with the ground. I stopped my frantic dash around the room to pause and look carefully at myself. Dirt smudged my face, and my sweater was stained with something unidentifiable and gross looking. On the other hand, my hair still looked okay, so at least I had that. I was by myself in the interrogation room, though I didn’t kid myself by thinking that I wasn’t being watched. Still, I rubbed the dirt off my cheek with spit and my thumb and tried to make my clothing look a bit more presentable.
Finally the door opened and two agents entered; they were not the same two that had taken me in. I didn’t say anything in greeting; they didn’t seem to expect me to say anything, and they were silent too. I was standing in one corner of the room, and they gestured towards one of the two chairs that were pushed under the interrogation table. I sat. The chair was ice cold and horribly uncomfortable, the slant of the chair back cutting painfully into my lower back. It was definitely not designed to put me at my ease.
We had a three-way staring contest for a few moments in which I was sure I was being silently measured on the ‘How Horrible of a Person Is This Creep’ scale. I tried to make myself appear innocent and young, looking into both agents’ eyes. Unfortunately, neither one of them seemed to be convinced that I was anything other than a criminal. I lowered my eyes and just stared at the scarred and pitted surface of the table instead. It was dented in the middle, as if someone’s head had gotten slammed down onto it. I gulped, and then one agent, a woman with nice looking features and long red hair which was tied up in French roll, sat down opposite me in the second chair, while her partner, an intimidating looking guy, leaned casually against one concrete wall.
The woman asked casually, “So you’re Carrie Vitagliano?”
“Carrie Louisa Vitagliano,” I said promptly. I was completely freaked by the dent in that table, and the male agent in particular looked as if he had sufficient muscle to brain me good if he wanted to.
The female agent looked at me thoughtfully. “You have a Nevada ID,” the woman commented. “Why are you in Seattle?”
“My two sisters and I moved up from there a month ago. I live with them. We came because my oldest sister Lindsay got a job here.”
The agent seemed interested in what I was saying. “What are the names of your sisters?” she asked.
“Lindsay Patrice Vitagliano. She’s 32 years old. She’s single. She works at a urologist’s office. Doctor Winifred Trotter is the doctor’s name, I think. It’s across the street from Virginia Mason Hospital.”
“And the name of your other sister?”
“Vanessa Iona Vitagliano. She works at a craft store called The Yarn Barn near our apartment.”
The female agent smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Would you like to know my name?”
I swallowed. Was she being menacing? I wasn’t sure because she was acting so nicely. “Yes, please?” I said, unsure of whether or not I even had a choice in the knowledge.
She gestured to herself and then her partner. “I’m Agent Douglass, and that’s US Marshall Gonzales.”
I looked between the both of them, wondering when the hammer was going to fall. “Okay,” I squeaked. “Are you going to read me my rights?”
Agent Douglass shook her head. “You’re not under arrest. You’re simply being questioned.”
I swallowed. “And what is the likelihood of my being arrested?” My voice sounded terribly timid in my ears.
Agent Douglass shrugged. “I guess it depends on how you answer the next few questions. I can tell you that lying to us is not in your best interests.”
“I’m not a liar,” I interjected quickly.
Agent Douglass didn’t reply to that. And why should she? She had no reason to trust me. I mean, look at where I was? It was not my finest hour.
Agent Douglass leaned forward again. “So, Carrie. What were you doing when our agents found you and took you in?”
I swallowed once more. I could have really used a glass of water at that point, but I thought that it was better to not leave behind DNA samples. I eyed Agent Douglass, and then Marshall Gonzales too, considering my options. I could have said that I thought I had seen an old friend but wasn’t sure and as a woman I hadn’t felt comfortable approaching a man who may or may not have been known to me. But that wouldn’t have been the whole truth, and anything besides the whole truth would be a lie. Since I didn’t want Douglass to think that I was just another scuzzy human being who needed to be taken out, I decided then and there to tell nothing but the truth, so help me God. Besides, I figured, maybe the truth would lead me to Sean.
“I thought the man I was following was my boyfriend, Sean Whalen. He looks different now. He has hair – all over,” I gestured, circling my hands around my head. “I met him in Las Vegas. He told me that he was in the Witness Protection Program.”
Oddly, neither agent seemed surprised by that bit of information. I looked at them both questioningly. The Marshall’s face was unreadable, and Agent Douglass just gestured for me to go on.
My confusion as to what was really going on grew, but I obeyed. “He didn’t tell me that right off the bat,” I said in his defense. “We were next door neighbors, but I stayed away from him because I thought he was scary. The only reason I got to know him was because we were in a wedding together as maid of honor and best man. We got to know each other and he told me about his past slowly, but he didn’t mention the fact that he was in the Protection Program till he knew for sure that I loved him and swore to never tell a soul.”
I looked from Douglass to Gonzales anxiously. “And I did. Swear to never tell. I thought he’d be worth the trouble because Sean’s a wonderful, caring, responsible man who treated me like a lady, and as you know Agent Douglass, there aren’t too many guys like that out there anymore.”
Agent Douglass didn’t answer one way or another.
I swallowed nervously. “So we, you know…we had sex…and he was going to tell you guys all about us, because he wanted me. In his life. You know – permanently. But I guess before he could do that, you showed up and took him away. I assumed he never got the chance to tell you about me, or he felt that his situation was too precarious to have me with him. I don’t know.
“I moved up here because Lindsay got a job and our parents are crazy. We all needed a fresh start. We were in the Pike Place Market when I saw Sean. Or I thought I saw him. He looked so different.” I shrugged. “I had to know, so I followed him.” I looked defiantly at my interrogators. “And it was him, but so much had happened since he’d disappeared that I just couldn’t walk up to him. I didn’t have the guts. And that’s when I got taken here.”
My explanation done, I waited for a reaction. Douglass drummed her fingers on the metal
table top and shook her head. “That’s a very nice story, Ms. Vitagliano.”
I bristled and sat up straight. “It’s not a story! It’s the truth.”
Douglass looked askance at me. “Don’t you think it’s a little convenient that you just happened to live next door to Mr. Whalen, and you just happened to be in a wedding together, and you just happened to fall in love with him so that he revealed a secret to you that could get him killed? Oh, and you just happened to move to the very city Sean had been relocated to. Am I missing anything?”
My eyes narrowed. “No, but I don’t think it’s convenient. Are you suggesting it is?”
Douglass cocked her head to one side. “Perhaps. Don’t you find it awfully coincidental that the day after Sean revealed his true identity to you that some goons in the employ of a convicted mob boss had also found out where he was and were moving to take him out?”
My draw dropped with shock. “I had nothing to do with that!”
Douglass shrugged. “But you can see how it must look, Ms. Vitagliano.”
“I had nothing to do with that!” I repeated. “I would never have betrayed Sean’s confidence!”
Only I had, I suddenly remembered. I had told Nancy about him. But that was long after Sean was gone.
“You’re not a very good liar,” Douglass said quietly. “You’ve got a guilt written all over your face.”
It was then that Gonzales moved. He was swift and silent, and his fists banged down on the table in front of me, making me jump in fear. “Tell us who you’re working for!” he yelled at me, his voice booming and shattering what poise I had left. “Tell us or you’re going to spend a very long time in a dark cage!”
His anger made tears spill from my eyes, but if he thought that yelling at me was going to make me start talking, he had another thing coming. I had been trained by Nancy very well over the years, and the more Gonzales shouted, the more I would simply withdraw into myself. He didn’t understand that immediately though.
“You did tell someone about Sean didn’t you? Who was it? Do you know how many laws you’ve broken? Do you understand that you’re not just in trouble with the state, but with the federal government? We can make you disappear, did you know that? We can dispose of a body much easier than any criminal can. Do you want that to happen to you? No? Then tell us the truth!”
I was so scared that I was unable to speak even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t. Douglass cleared her throat, which got Gonzales’ attention. She made a gesture and he backed away, but only a few steps away. He continued to loom over me with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.
Douglass pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and handed it to me. I took it gratefully, wiping my tear-filled eyes and blowing my nose. “Carrie,” she said kindly, trying to get my attention, but I didn’t want to meet her eyes. I just kept sniffing and wiping my nose.
“Carrie,” she repeated. “Sean told us about you.”
That did get my attention and I looked up at her suspiciously. “What?”
“Sean told us about you,” she said simply.
“What?” I said again.
“The day that we took Sean away, he told us about you.”
I looked from her to Gonzales, but his expression gave away nothing. “He did?”
Douglass nodded. I frowned. “Then why wasn’t I contacted like he said I would be? I expected you to show up to question me, but no one did.”
“You were being watched,” Gonzales said shortly.
I refused to look at him, the big bully. “Watched?” I asked Douglass.
She nodded. “You’re relationship with him was very convenient, as I said before.”
I shook my head. “And I was being watched because…? Because you thought I could lead you to whoever was trying to kill him?”
Douglass nodded. “Now, tell us who you told. And remember, you’re a horrible liar.”
I frowned. “I just told my mom – my stepmom, I mean. But it was eight weeks after Sean had left, but she is not part of any kind of crime organization! I told her because – well, because that one night with Sean…” I swallowed. “I’m pregnant.” I sighed. “We did use protection, but his condoms were old or something. And I was under a lot of stress, and I was hiding the truth from everyone because I had sworn to Sean that I wouldn’t tell, but I was pregnant!” I implored Douglass, hoping that she could understand my plight. “I just blurted it out to her because I had to tell someone!”
Gonzales opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “But she didn’t believe me! She told me that Sean had just been feeding me a line, and that once he got what he wanted, he had split.”
Douglass looked at me like she didn’t believe me. “I’m not lying!” I cried.
She glanced over at Gonzales, who stepped forward once again.
“Did you use Sean’s name at all?” Gonzales demanded to know.
“Not then,” I said quietly. “But she asked if he was the guy that had come with me to help move my sister’s stuff out when she had thrown their dog against the wall, and he had introduced himself then. She remembered his name, and I said yes, he was the same guy.”
Gonzales cursed loudly and said, “I’ll be right back,” he said gruffly, and left the room.
“Did you tell anyone else about Sean?” Douglass asked me, drawing my attention back to her.
I shook my head. “I realize it was stupid to tell Nancy.”
Douglass nodded. “Yes it was. It was stupid for Sean to tell you he was in the Witness Protection Program.”
“I’m not involved in a crime ring or whatever it was that Sean’s old boss did.”
“Perhaps. Marshall Gonzales will be checking your story, and agents in Las Vegas will be bringing in Nancy for questioning.”
Oh, she was going to love that. It was a good thing I was three states away from her. I shifted uncomfortably. “Do you – would it be possible…?” I sighed and Douglass just waited for me to spit out whatever I was trying to say. “Will I be able to see Sean at all?”
Douglass stood up. “Sean broke quite a few laws telling you what he did. You are under suspicion for working with a mob boss. Or at least being used by one.” She moved towards the door. “In other words, probably not. Your name may or may not be cleared, and even then, your troubles aren’t over.”
I nodded, accepting her words, but feeling like I’d just been punched in the gut too. Sean and I had botched things up good.
Douglass asked me on her way out. “You’ll likely be here for several hours. Is there anything I can get you to pass the time?”
“A glass of water,” I said immediately. “And maybe a crossword puzzle?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said automatically.
“Do I get a phone call?” I asked.
“No,” she answered, and then left. I still wasn’t alone though. I looked at that mirror, which I was sure was bullet proof and I wondered who was watching me. As the minutes ticked by, and my adrenaline levels dropped to a normal level, I also wondered if they were as bored with watching me as I was with watching myself.
It took Douglass only a half hour to come back with the water and puzzle book, but that seemed like an eternity. After that I was left alone for a long time. I doggedly tried to work my way through the crossword. It was an old book, printed in 1973, and there were a lot of facts that I didn’t know. Only about half the puzzles were completed, and apparently that book had passed through many interviewees hands. I flipped through it, trying to decipher some of the more interesting crossword entries, which were obviously not the real answers, but slurs against the FBI, law enforcement, and the government in general. The entries were quite crass, but some were rather imaginative, and reading through it helped passed the time.
Dinnertime came and went, and I worried about what my sisters must be thinking. They would have waited at the bus stop, and then perhaps gone back to the Market to look for me. But they wouldn’t have found
me. Would they be in a panic? Would they call the police? I had no way to alert anyone to my concerns because I was being completely ignored. Pile onto that the fact that I was starving, I had run out of water a long time ago, and the urge to use a toilet was becoming more than a slight nuisance. Borderline emergency was probably a better term. I knocked on the door, I knocked on the window, I hopped around so anyone watching in a camera would see that I had to go, but no one came, so finally I just sat and concentrated on holding my bowels.
Finally, just as I was about to poop my pants or go blind with holding it in, Douglass entered. “Someone told me you’ve been trying to get our attention.”
“Bathroom,” I gasped. It was all I could say.
Douglass put me on a leash and I waddled as quickly as I could down a hall and into the ladies bathroom, which looked like a prison. “Pee into this, please,” she said, and handed me a cup.
I didn’t think twice about it; I had to go so badly. Douglass stood on the other side of the partially open door holding my leash, but at that point I didn’t care. I was just so grateful to get some relief, and peeing into a cup had become second nature to me, what with my monthly doctor visits. I started caring however when I was done and had to come out and wash my hands.
“Sorry about that,” I said with a blush as I handed her my specimen cup.
Douglass let a small smile loose from her otherwise expressionless face. “One of the nicer aspects of my job.”
“What’s the pee for?”
“Pregnancy and drug test.”
I mouthed the word, “Oh,” but said no more.
I think by that point Douglass knew I wasn’t anyone harmful, because when she walked me back to my room, after letting me fill my water cup up again, she told me, “Not much longer, I think.”
“I’m worried about my sisters,” I said in a rush. “They were waiting for me to catch up with them at a bus stop. They’ve likely called the cops by know.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Douglass said. She returned a few minutes later with a ham sandwich.
I had no idea what time it was, other than late, when Douglass and Gonzales came back in together. I had dozed off with my head on the table, my arms playing pillow. I lifted my head and blinked at the harshness of the overhead light, and flinched when Gonzales slammed a stack of papers down on the table in front of me.
