“I’m sure you have. Particularly while you were arranging to have me out of the picture while you questioned my father. Rather unethical, wouldn’t you say?”
A spark of amusement flickered in Williams’s eyes. “The D.A. must have been very sorry to lose you. I know the Bureau is. Now I know why. You’re quite the steamroller.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It wasn’t intended to be. The reason I came by this morning was to clarify a few loose ends with your father. Some interesting information came out of our talk. It obviously upset him. He requested that his attorney be present. I immediately stopped asking questions. In fact, we haven’t exchanged a word since he called you—several times. I believe all that is not only ethical, it’s entirely legal.”
“Let’s not play semantics.” Chin raised, Sloane stared him down. “I want to know what was discussed.”
“Gladly.” Williams played back the entire conversation.
It wasn’t much different than Sloane had expected.
“I want a few minutes with my client.”
“By all means.” Williams made a wide sweep with his arm, then picked up his coffee cup. “May I trouble you for a refill while you talk?”
“Certainly. Dad, you wait for me in the breakfast nook. I’ll get Agent Williams his coffee.” Sloane stopped her father as he took a step toward the kitchen. He was a wreck. The last thing he needed to do was to spill coffee on a shrewd agent who already suspected him of murder or conspiracy to murder.
She took the empty cup from Williams as her father followed her instructions. “How do you take it?”
“Just black.” Williams still looked amused, which infuriated the hell out of Sloane. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem. You can leave a tip on the table.” She was in and out of the kitchen and in the breakfast nook with her father in under a minute.
“Dad, listen to me.” She spoke in a low, confident tone, keeping both their backs to Agent Williams. “You’ve run out of choices—especially once the NYPD finds out what happened to Mom and passes it along. It’s either risk prosecution on criminal charges or tell the FBI the truth.” She waved away her father’s objections before he could voice them. “I have some stipulations I plan to make before you lay out the facts. I believe Agent Williams will agree to them—after he makes a few phone calls and escorts us to the Field Office so that you can’t tamper with any alleged evidence.”
“What kind of stipulations?” her father managed, sounding dubious and hopeful all at once.
“The kind that will get any potential charges against you dropped, and at the same time increase your level of protection. Mom’s, too.”
Matthew sucked in his breath. “What about Leo, Phil, Ben, and Wallace?”
“They’ll be free of charges as well.”
“How do you plan to accomplish this?”
“You let me worry about that. Call your partners. Explain the situation to them. I’m sure they’ll all
agree with my strategy, since none of them wants to go to prison. Once we’re all on the same page, I’ll present my offer to Agent Williams.” She saw the flash of indecision in her father’s eyes. “Trust me, Dad.”
He nodded, reaching for the phone.
“Wait,” Sloane instructed, holding up her index finger to indicate that it would just take a minute. She walked into the living room, standing beside the settee that was across from Agent Williams.
“In my opinion, we can fill in the blanks to your satisfaction. But, as you know, there are four other partners in my father’s art investment group. Since this affects them all, he needs to get their permission before we proceed. Which means he has four phone calls to make. You have my word that this isn’t a ploy, nor an attempt to devise a coordinated distortion of facts. Is that acceptable?”
Williams studied Sloane, this time with contemplation rather than amusement. “Tell your father he can make his calls.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
An hour later, Sloane and her father were seated across from Tony at his desk in the New York Field Office. They were joined by SA Williams and—no surprise—Derek.
“So, Sloane,” Tony began, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers on his desk. “I hear you have a proposal for us—along with some valuable information.”
“I do.” She crossed one leg over the other, sitting rigidly against the back of the well-worn chair. “As I’m sure Agent Williams told you…”
“Rich,” Williams corrected.