I opened the door to Interrogation Room Number One and the first thing I saw were legs. Long, slender legs that went on for days.

Legs that I could stare at for hours.

Legs that I had stared at for hours back when we were both much younger. I didn't need to go any farther than those legs to know who was waiting for me; as I quickly shut the door and made sure that the cameras and recording devices were off, I said: “Hey Carol. Didn't expect to see you again so soon.”

“I did not expect to be here, but an hour or so after you left, Dad came by the place. He had some guys with him - Vito’s dad, a guy in a wheelchair, a lawyer who I have seen before but whose name I don't believe I have ever heard, and another guy I never saw before. They all went into Vito’s study and locked the door. He never locks the door,” she said, while nervously fiddling with the necklace she wore.

I waited patiently for her to continue, trying hard not to enjoy the view enough to lose focus on what she was saying. It was harder than it sounds. Her hair was now loose around her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple blouse and short skirt instead of the workout gear. She was also wearing mismatched shoes as if she had put them on in a hurry and just grabbed two pumps of the same height and similar style. That was not like her at all.

“I… well, I listened at the door. Couldn't hear everything they said, but what I did hear … Jack, I think I need protection. I think they plan to…” she paused, and a slight sob escaped her. I wanted to rush over and hold her but refrained, and instead just leaned against the table and motioned for her to go on.

After a few seconds of silence: “The lawyer, any chance it could have been Stanley Scanlon?” I asked while she tried to compose herself.

She looked at me with a thoughtful expression on her lovely face. “I don't know if I ever heard the name, but if he’s related to Mayor Scanlon, it probably was him - looked a lot like the Mayor, only not as fat and with more hair.”

“Stanley’s his nephew,” I replied. “And the man in the wheelchair - does the name ‘Morgan Price’ mean anything to you?”. I asked.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“He’s some kind of antique dealer or something? Never met him but someone did refer to another guy in the room as ‘Mister Price’ so maybe.”

*Sorry for the interruption,” I said.

“Nah, I needed that to focus my thoughts. That a tactic they teach you or you just still know me that well?”

I laughed. I had forgotten how well it always worked on her in the past, but it was also a technique we were taught. “Both, actually,” I admitted.

She let out a chuckle. “Anyway, I only heard a few words but some of it made my blood run cold and made me think I need to get some protection. The first thing I heard was ‘lost control' and that made me listen more intently. Then there was ‘a few more days to make the sacrifice’ and then the line that made me decide to get out of there immediately, Vito's voice saying, 'I hate to say it, but at least she does have a sister’.”

“Vito said that?” I asked, surprised. He seemed to be the only straight shooter in the batch. Guess appearances can be deceiving.

“Yes. I know my husband's voice. He did sound sad as he said it, but he said it.”

“Hmm. Sounds like you need somewhere to lie low for a while then?”

“I ... yeah, I think so,” she said as if suddenly realizing this. “Could I … would it be possible to stay at your place?”

I let out a snort. “I wish I could say yes, but if someone’s looking for you, that is one of the first places they would look if they know anything of our history. Nah, you sit tight here. I have a few people I can call in favors from that I trust and should be able to set something up within an hour.”

She rose to her feet and, to my surprise, embraced me. I stiffened (okay, in more ways than one) in surprise at this for a second, but then returned the embrace for a moment before pushing her away

She stepped back quickly “Oh! I am sorry if that was out of line, I just am so scared…”

I smiled. “I understand. Until we figure out what’s really going on here - it now seems to be more than just a single, bizarre murder at this point - we have to keep things professional. And I came close to being not professional there,” I admitted.

She blushed slightly at this and stepped back.

I took my phone out and sent out a few quick texts. One got a positive reply, and I smiled. “Time to go meet someone,” I told Carol. I didn't think it was quite the right time to tell her that this “somebody” was a prostitute who owed me a big favor…