Written by Scooplet
Concept by Cheryl and Scooplet
Scarecrow and Mrs. King characters are the property of Shoot the Moon Productions and Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended. Not for commercial use. Sarah Stetson, Matt Granger, and the other characters not found in the television show are my creation, however, so please respect my right to claim ownership of them—I do not authorize permission to use them in stories not authored by me.
The Eyes of the Father
Chapter Seven
Sarah chewed her bread automatically, knowing that she needed to ease the sour feeling in her stomach or more than one person at the table would comment on her lack of appetite. Matt knew she loved the food at Mezza Luna, and her mother was sure to be concerned. And Daddy seemed to be hovering today. Her mother had been very chummy as they walked into the restaurant, wrapping her arm around her daughter's waist affectionately. She and Daddy must be worried about me again. He must have known why I was talking with Richard Wong.
While they were ordering their food, Matt reached for her free hand under the table and squeezed it. When she glanced at him, he shot her a questioning expression. She squeezed his hand back in reassurance.
When their salads arrived, Sarah was able to eat, and by the time the entrees were served, she had grown quite hungry. While the others chatted freely, Sarah spent most of the meal listening and trying not to think about the depositions, Richard Wong, and driving like Daisy Duke of Hazzard County.
"…I don't think Sarah was fully there when we were driving today, either."
Sarah looked up to see her father gazing at her with an amused expression on his face. She blushed furiously. "Um…"
Matt shifted in his chair, leaning towards Sarah. "Your mom asked if you were ready for the shower tomorrow."
"Yes, of course. I guess so." Her stomach tightened. I need some fresh air. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"
Sarah knew her parents were watching her as she made her way to the restrooms, and she willed Matt to stay in his seat. He did…for ten seconds. But Amanda put her hand on his arm, and he sat back down. It was her mother who followed her to the restroom.
From her stall, she could hear Amanda open her purse and freshen up her makeup, chatting with another woman about the food. Oh, I don't want to talk with anyone. I just want to have fun tonight.
The restroom was empty now. "Sarah. You can't hide in there forever."
"Please just leave me alone, Mom."
"We need to talk—or you need a hug. I'm not sure which."
"Try both." Oh, no. If I cry, my makeup will be ruined. Sarah stepped out of the stall and went to wash her hands. Another woman came in, heading straight to a stall.
Amanda drew her daughter into an embrace as soon as the paper towel was in the trash. "I know it's been a hard week, sweetheart. You can't bottle it all in."
"I don't have much choice. Some things can't be helped, other things I just have to get over."
"True. Your father and I were hoping you could relax this evening. Are you feeling okay? You didn't look well when we sat down at the table."
"I'm okay now. I didn't eat much today. I guess I kind of pigged out at dinner."
"Matt was amused."
"He still thinks I don't eat enough."
"Your father does that to me." They laughed together. "I know we can't talk here, but I can tell you that if you let your mind focus on just this evening, you'll relax some. In your job, you'll have to learn to compartmentalize more. Lose yourself in the music tonight, sweetheart." Suddenly Amanda brightened. "Don't forget that your dress came today. We can do a fitting tomorrow before the shower. I can't wait to see it on you."
Smiling now, Sarah replied, "I can't either." She started to move towards the door of the restroom. "Thanks, Mom."
"I didn't do anything."
"Sure you did." Her expression more relaxed now, Sarah smiled at Amanda as they walked back to the table, where two relieved-looking men sat watching for them.
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Right on schedule, Matt arrived at Jennifer and Jamie's house. Amy had the door open before he could reach it.
"Prompt as usual, Mr. Granger."
"Hey, Amy. How did it go?" He waved to Jennifer and Amanda, who were busy in the kitchen.
"She's got quite a load of booty. It looks like a department store in here. Good thing you did the driving. Some of the stuff is heavy."
Matt chuckled. "We're going to need to get a three-bedroom apartment, not a two."
Amy's eyes twinkled. "Maybe. Sarah's in the living room."
As Matt walked in from the foyer, he spotted Sarah chatting with a small group of women, some of whom he did not recognize. His partner's wife, Patti Enriquez, and his fellow agent, Grace Tanaka, had greeted him as they passed on the walk outside, and he had seen Cheryl and another woman from church driving away as he parked his car.
Sarah gave him a little wave, beckoning him to join her. While the two friends from dance class, Tori and Christina, greeted him with familiarity, he had not met the three other women. Out of politeness, he tried to ignore their blushing faces as Sarah introduced him to the women one by one. Nikki the hair stylist was among them. Perhaps thirty, she had dyed her hair an unnatural shade of red. A small diamond sparkled in her nose and a tattoo peeked out from under the neckline of her shirt. She was naturally good looking to the point of being quite attractive when she smiled, and she had the air of confidence of a woman who had received many compliments. She stared openly at Matt.
Soon most of the women excused themselves and left after thanking Jennifer and Amy, the hostesses. Nikki went down the hall to the restroom.
Matt leaned toward Sarah as she watched them leave. He whispered in her ear. "I know who Nikki, Christina, and Tori are, but who were the other two ladies?"
"Some of my old roommates from Georgetown. They'd love hearing you call them ladies."
Matt did not fail to register the gentle sarcasm. "Sorry. Women."
Sarah had no chance to respond, as someone behind them did.
"Oh, don't change for them, Mr. Granger. I like your Texas manners. Besides, you're a fifteen on a scale of one to ten. They were used to that other guy. He was something like a six or a seven, on a good day."
Sarah blushed and Matt turned quickly around. Nikki had walked up while they were talking.
Ignoring their embarrassed reactions, Nikki continued. "It was great to meet you. Maybe you'll let me have a go at your hair someday. It's nice in an ex-military way, but…"
Matt could tell that Nikki had an eye for style, but he was fairly certain it would not be his idea of style.
Laughing a little, Sarah attempted to sound genuine. "Matt's been going to barbers for years. If he changes his mind, we'll let you know. Thanks so much for coming today, Nikki."
Grateful for the rescue, Matt did not attempt to correct Sarah. While he sometimes stopped in at the barber for a trim, he was just as content to go to an inexpensive salon at the mall.
After Nikki left, Sarah began going through the gifts with Matt, trying to keep them organized as they prepared to take them to the car.
"You're starting to think like a field agent."
"Oh? How so?"
"You knew just what to say to get Nikki off my case."
"Well, it worked, right? I guess it comes from living with field agents. And I didn't really lie."
Matt regarded Sarah for a moment. He decided it was best to let the matter go. He liked his hair the way it was, and he was pretty sure Sarah did, too. He was also fairly certain Sarah was not happy that Nikki was flirting with him. He knew for sure that he was not enjoying her attention. Picking up his stack of boxes, he made his way out to the Charger.
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Staring out of the window, Sarah clenched her fists in her lap. Aware of her parents in the front seat of her father's BMW sedan, she was also conscious of the fact that at the moment, it was as if she was back in high school. But as she twisted the engagement ring on her left hand, she knew that her father would not be dropping her off at school—her parents were going with her to the Agency. In a few hours she would be forced to recall in great detail that day when she had almost lost the man who would later give her that ring on her finger.
She would not be at the mercy of the ruthless Mexican cartel members who would soon be on trial, but she would be at the mercy of their attorneys. And she knew the prosecutor would not be easy on her either. His associate had proven that the previous week when she had been grilled about Brad Smith.
It was Amanda who broke the silence. "The attorneys don't plan to talk with us for very long, Sarah. I guess they just want a preliminary statement. You should wait nearby."
"Jamie had some things for me to do." Sarah wished she could be back at Matt's apartment, where they had spent the afternoon before, packing up his kitchen. With just the food, clothing, and linens to be packed up, Matt was nearly ready to move. Rene was coming over on Wednesday to help him dismantle the weight machine.
It had not taken them long to pack, so they had gone for a walk in the greenbelt near the apartment complex, enjoying the brief warm spell. It had already begun to grow cold once again. Sarah rewrapped the scarf around her neck.
"Do you want more heat back there, Sarah?"
"No thanks. It will just make it colder when we get out." She noticed that her father had not used his pet name for her. He's worried about me. He thinks I'm going to fall apart. Maybe I will. Sarah sighed quietly.
Lee did not fail to hear her. "Listen, Sarah. This won't be any worse than it was last week. They can't hurt you, they can't hurt Matt. But you can do your best to think clearly. Just tell the truth."
"What if I mess up? What if they do show up?"
"Greg Peterson assured me that they won't be there. He's betting that Santiago and Jimenez's attorneys are worried that their presence will trigger more memories—not intimidate you into messing up. It will only get worse for them if the judge determines from your testimony that you went through personal trauma. Tell the truth and be yourself. Don't worry. If Matt can't be there when you get out, your mom and I will be."
Amanda chimed in. "I'm so thankful that this is a joint deposition. It's time all of this came to a close. It's Christmas."
Sarah watched as her father took her mother's hand. He glanced sideways at her. While their exchange was silent, Sarah knew they were worried about her. And no, it was not fair that they had to go through this at Christmas, and so close to the wedding. But it would all be over soon. She unclenched her hands, stretching out her fingers, and looked down at her lap as her father drove through the security gate for the Agency's underground garage.
Matt came to see Sarah while she waited in Jamie's office, using the time, ostensibly, to check background information on some of the contacts from Matt's and Rene's case. He sat down and worked on one of Jamie's computers nearby while Sarah waited to be summoned to the conference room.
"Aren't you supposed to be writing your reports, Granger?"
"What's it to you, King? I'm helping you out, here."
"Operatives only work on analysis when under duress from their section chief."
Matt did not miss Jamie's wink. He remained in his seat at the computer. It was grunt work, something relegated to the freshman agents, and Matt was no longer at that level. But he knew Jamie did not mind the extra help, especially since Sarah was distracted by her nervousness over the upcoming deposition.
Sarah's voice was so quiet when she spoke that Jamie and Matt almost asked her to repeat herself. "I know Brad Smith did not come to his deposition because of the special circumstances surrounding his case. But I can't get over the feeling that I'm going to walk in, and the Jimenez brothers will be there."
Sober now, Jamie held up a hand to Matt so he could answer. "They probably won't be. But if they are, you'll be strong. I know it, Sarah. These two men had evil intentions. This is your chance to make sure the court will know what really happened that day."
She glanced at her brother and then at the floor. "But I can't remember all of it."
"You remember enough."
Matt joined in. "And I can help fill in the blanks. So can your dad and mom."
"I was hoping they might stop by here before they left."
"Speak of the devil." Jamie grinned at Amanda and Lee as they stepped into the now-crowded office. Amanda rested her hand on Sarah's shoulder.
Lee tried to keep his tone light. "Looks like a family get-together in here. Where's Phillip?"
"Oh, he had work to do." Jamie smiled weakly at his parents and glanced at Sarah. She clearly was not joining in the jesting.
"Yeah, well some of us aren't too grateful for help." Matt chuckled self-consciously before growing serious. "How did it go?"
Amanda was nonchalant. "Oh, routine questions. The usual."
"Really? They didn't grill Daddy about shooting Santiago?"
"Well, they did ask me several questions, but they let me tell my version of things. They'll do the same for you, Sarah." She noted that again, he had not used her nickname.
Sarah's phone buzzed. "It's Greg Peterson." She took the call, grabbing her purse at the same time. "Thanks for letting me pretend to work in here while I waited, Jamie."
"Love you, sis." Jamie stopped Sarah long enough to give her a quick hug.
She smiled at him. "Thanks. Love you, too."
"You'll be fine, Pumpkin." Lee gave Sarah's shoulder a squeeze as she passed him.
That gesture and the use of her nickname caused a wave of relief to wash over her. I can do this.
"I'm walking over there with you." Matt pulled his suit jacket from the back of the chair where he had been seated and hurriedly stuck his arms in the sleeves, joining Sarah in the hall.
"Do you really think she'll be okay, Mom? Lee?"
"We need to hope that she'll be fine, Jamie." Amanda was stared down the hall after her daughter. "And maybe do some of that praying that Matt and Sarah like to do."
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The room was stuffy. Nervous that she might become flustered and say the wrong thing, Sarah tried to keep her eyes on a focal point or on the attorneys as they questioned her. For the last two hours the prosecuting attorney had grilled Sarah on the various encounters she had had with the Jimenez brothers and their fellow cartel members. She could feel the eyes of the Jimenez's attorneys boring into her as she described the details of the chase that had led to the first arrest in the case.
Her stomach was in knots and she put all of her effort into appearing calm and collected. Peterson had coached her to keep her cool during the depositions, and her father and mother had been lecturing her about not showing her feelings while under duress. She imagined the Agency attorney to be in his mid- to late fifties. His hair was grey at the temples, and wearing a dark suit, a blue tie, and a white dress shirt, he looked like many of the other men she often encountered in Washington. He could have been mistaken for a lobbyist or perhaps even a politician.
The prosecutor, Stephen Willis, and the defense attorneys were equally professional in their appearance and about ten years younger than Greg Peterson. One of the members of the defense team sat back in her seat, quietly observing, while his partner sat tensely, ready to speak into his mic at any moment.
"So, you deliberately forced your pursuer's vehicle off the road?"
"Yes."
"You could have caused an accident. It endangered lives, did it not?"
Sarah found it annoying that Willis's style was to seemingly back his witnesses into a corner, only to have them say exactly what he wanted. This is so stressful. "It may have endangered the lives of myself, my passenger, and the other driver, but they began the chase. They sideswiped me."
"And you know for certain they were chasing you? The sideswiping was not an accident?"
"They showed up in the middle of a service at a small church they had never attended. They ran after me into the parking lot, and they followed closely behind me on a circuitous route. I was trained by the Agency to be aware of these kinds of situations arising. I simply did what I'd been told to do for my own safety, and the safety of my passenger."
"Trained by the Agency. Would you elaborate? You were not employed here at the time."
"As a family member of Agency employees, I have always been at risk for abductions or attacks. I was first trained in defensive techniques as a young teenager. Then, when I learned to drive, I was taught evasion techniques and defensive driving. I took a refresher a few years ago."
Stephen Willis leaned into the microphone on the table in front of him, glancing over briefly at one of the cameras also recording the deposition. "Let the record show that the prosecution has submitted evidence of the aforementioned training. Let the record also show that the prosecution has submitted details of the aforementioned training, including information on the techniques the victim used during the chase."
"Objection." One of the defense attorneys leaned forward. Sarah struggled to remember his name. Saltillo? "Miss Stetson was not necessarily a victim at this point."
Willis leaned back in his seat, directing his stony gaze at the defense attorney. "Saltillo, I warned you. Don't mess with us on this one, or it will get back to the judge. When a defendant is accused of endangering and harassing others, including the witness being questioned, it is acceptable to call the witness a victim."
Willis leaned forward once again. "Sarah, would these defensive maneuvers you mentioned include forcing a car off the road?"
"Yes, if it was the only way to stop the chase."
"A chase that lasted well over fifteen minutes?"
"Objection! The attorney is leading the witness." Saltillo glared at Willis.
"How long did the chase last, Miss Stetson? Please repeat the answer you gave us earlier." Willis did not keep the annoyance out of his voice.
"Over fifteen minutes. I'm not exactly sure. But I do know we left the church at 10:15. I glanced at the clock just before we had to leave. It was past 10:30 when we finally stopped. I saw the time on my phone."
"Were you able to exit your vehicle once your car had stopped?"
"Yes."
"Through the driver's door?"
"No. It was jammed shut. I had to crawl across the seats."
"Let the record show that the prosecution has submitted photographs of the damaged car. Let the record also show that the aforementioned vehicle, a 2005 Toyota Corolla, was considered a total loss by the insurance company."
Saltillo was quick to disrupt the deposition once again. "Objection. The assessment was not conducted until after the car had been sold."
"Let the record show that although the car was towed from the premises, the title was not signed over until after the assessment."
Sarah was glad for the break while the attorneys haggled over details. Greg Peterson took the opportunity to reach over and pat her arm in reassurance. She knew Saltillo, who appeared to be the only defense attorney with a voice, was about to have his turn with her. She wondered vaguely at the quiet female attorney.
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Matt did not go back to Jamie's office, but instead went back to the bullpen and his desk. He was working on the reports that Francine had ordered when Rene poked him. "Granger, check it out. It's the two agents from Mexico City."
Matt looked up in time to see Julia Garcia and Carlos Mendez weaving their way through the desks towards Matt. He stood up as they approached, greeting them and introducing them to his partner.
"You probably are wondering why we are here."
"I would assume for the depositions."
"Could we go to a conference room?"
"Sure." With Rene tagging along, uninvited but curious, Matt led the way to a nearby conference room just vacated by Richard Wong and two of his new freshman agents, there for orientation.
Mendez waited for everyone to be seated before he began. "Listen, you probably know we're here for the depositions."
"Sure. I'm sorry you have to go through that." Matt directed his remark to Julia. "I know it's probably unpleasant having to talk about what happened."
Julia surprised Matt with her response. "Oh no. I'm glad to have the chance to make sure this b-, excuse me, jerk, rots in jail. It was bad enough what he did to me." She let her voice die there, when Carlos, who had been watching Matt, put his hand on her arm.
When Matt had walked Sarah to the deposition, he had glanced in the room. It was just large enough for the four attorneys and one witness, as well as the stenographer and a clerk. Now he imagined Sarah sitting in the relatively small room, not far from the cartel attorneys, answering their questions. He said a quick, silent prayer for her.
Mendez spoke quietly, trying to soothe both Julia and Matt. "We wondered if you knew anything about the two defense attorneys. I have heard some rumors about the woman. Teresa Sandoval."
"The name doesn't sound familiar."
"But it does to me." Rene leaned forward. "She's a hotshot lawyer who has defended baddies before. A friend in Homeland told me a story about her. One of his buddies, a border patrol agent, was shot by cartel members. She defended the sleazeballs."
Matt regarded his partner. There was much more to the story, but he was hesitating. "Tell us the whole story, Enriquez. I always know when you're holding back."
"She plays hard ball. Likes to push the agents into a corner. She tries for any angle that may look like the perp was provoked."
Attempting to remain calmly in his chair, Matt failed miserably. He got up and began pacing.
"Hey, Granger. She's got Peterson in there to help her. She didn't do anything wrong."
"I was just thinking of the emotional fallout. He can only do so much."
"Perhaps if we can warn her to be careful. I'm surprised Peterson did not brief us." Mendez was grave, watching Matt with a sympathetic eye. He was well aware of the part Matt had played in the case as well. Since he had killed one of the cartel members, even if it was in self-defense after being brutally stabbed himself, Sandoval was sure to go after him.
"I was hoping they'd take a lunch break. Do you suppose he just found out about the attorney?"
"That's the likely answer. She was hired rather recently. Saltillo did the legwork. She's there for the show." Julia Garcia spoke quietly, but both Rene and Matt could detect the edge in her voice that came with being a seasoned operative.
Matt thought idly that he hoped Sarah would never develop that edge. It was the sweetness of her personality, somehow preserved over the years despite her parents' occupations, that had attracted him to her in the first place. But if Sarah is forced to spend time in the field, it may come.
Distracted by his own musings, Matt had missed part of the conversation.
"...we should probably get some sandwiches and be ready for them to break." Rene was watching Matt, concern on his face.
"Sure."
As if on cue, Matt's phone buzzed. He checked the screen. "Speak of the devil. Peterson knows you're here already. Wants us to meet in a conference room on that level. He's ordering sandwiches—having his assistant bring them to us. He'll text us."
"When?" Mendez leaned forward in his seat.
"Maybe in a half an hour."
Just then Francine's assistant Narelle knocked on the door. "You folks just about done in here? We have a scheduled meeting in five minutes. I need to make coffee." She hesitated in the doorway.
"Go ahead, Narelle." Rene waved her in towards the empty coffeepot.
"We should go. This conference room is popular."
An hour later, Matt's hand was resting on Sarah's back, guiding her to the conference room Greg Peterson had set aside for their lunch. He could tell she was weary. When she had emerged from the room, her eyes showed signs of strain. The muscles in her back, where he had placed his hand, were tight.
Peterson wasted no time repeating the same information Rene had related earlier. While his partner had not been invited to the meeting, Matt grimly thought that for once Rene would not be satisfied he was right.
"…So, Willis will be bringing in one of his associates, Carla Simpson. She will be there to help me deflect this second attorney's attempts to goad the Agency witnesses."
The remainder of the lunch meeting was spent with Matt and the other agents asking questions, while Sarah silently attempted to eat. After several bites she put down her sandwich and sat back in her chair. Her stomach was still in knots—the food would no longer go down. She sipped her water, willing herself to relax as she let the others do the talking. Finally she could take no more. She got up from her chair, interrupting their conversation as she tried to squeeze behind their chairs and out of the room. "Excuse me."
Matt started to get up and follow Sarah, but she put a hand on his shoulder, and then whispered in his ear. "I'm okay. Just going to the restroom."
As she emerged from the stall, Sarah was relieved to find the room was still empty. With no one else about, she finally felt herself relax a little. The food in her stomach no longer threatened to come up. She held a wet paper towel to the back of her neck for a minute. Finally, she could delay no longer. It was time to go back to the deposition room.
Matt waited outside the restroom. "You okay, sweetie?"
Sarah glanced up the hall at the attorneys, who were slowly moving into the conference room. "I guess as okay as I can be."
Matt grasped her arms. "I love you. I'm praying for you. Just remember, no matter what they talk about it in there, it's still all in the past. I'm okay, and you're okay. He's watching over you, Sparrow." His eyes were intent upon her face, trying to read her thoughts.
A smile flitted across Sarah's face as she looked up at Matt. "Thank you. I love you, too, Eagle."
Somewhat relieved, he walked her to the conference room, and then watched as she walked in and the clerk closed the door.
The two agents from Mexico City had left the Agency after the lunch meeting. Back in the bullpen, Matt tried to concentrate on his reports, but finally he gave up and went to Jamie's office, where he could use a monitor to bring up the closed circuit camera outside the conference room where Sarah was being grilled. While Phillip had the better equipment in his office, he knew that he had no excuse for being there. Anyone questioning his presence in Jamie's office would be met with the flimsy reason he had used that morning.
"Back to help me, Granger?"
"Sure."
Jamie snorted. "I wish I was always this popular. I'm not explaining your presence to Francine, if she asks. That's up to you."
"I'm ready. I'm checking background information. It's for my reports."
"Right." Jamie rolled his eyes. "Well, there's no sign of her or anyone else, yet."
In the conference room, Sarah could barely maintain her calm demeanor. The female defense attorney, Teresa Sandoval, was relentless. Her cross examination following the morning's testimony had lasted for a full hour. Every few minutes Greg Peterson or the prosecution attorneys would raise an objection and stall her testimony. But not at the moment.
"Were you aware when you forced the other car off the road that it could endanger the other car's occupants, Miss Stetson?"
"Yes. But I—"
"It seems you have a habit of causing accidents. Did you not admit in another deposition that you placed a driver in a choke hold in order to cause an accident?"
"Objection. Question is irrelevant."
"But Mr. Peterson, the question is quite relevant. I am trying to establish a pattern of reckless behavior in your witness."
"Miss Sandoval, you are badgering the witness. Miss Stetson is not on trial. And she received a head injury in the accident that helped her escape the men who had kidnapped her."
"My apologies." Sandoval's tight smile displayed her lack of sincerity.
Sarah was appalled by the attorney's lack of remorse. She was determined to discredit Sarah as a witness. Her stomach roiled when she saw Peterson nod his acceptance.
"Let me rephrase. Were you choking the driver at the time of the other accident, Miss Stetson?"
"It was the only way to keep their hands off the guns."
While the court stenographer took notes on Sarah's reply, Sandoval made a face. Peterson beamed at Sarah. Teresa Sandoval had not counted on Sarah finding a way to deflect her attack.
Sandoval consulted her notes. "Let's go back to that earlier day. After you forced the car off the road, did you attempt to render aid?"
Sarah knew she had somehow won this round. The attorney was grasping at straws. "It was not necessary, as there were emergency vehicles pulling up. Besides, I could not easily exit my vehicle after being sideswiped."
As the stenographer continued to type in Sarah's responses, Sarah noticed the telltale blush on Sandoval's face as she looked down and cleared her throat.
Peterson held Sarah back as everyone else exited the room. Once it had emptied, he spoke quietly. "Good move there, Sarah. The best defense is a good offense. She didn't see that coming. One has to answer the questions straight out, but you figured out how to make your answer work for you."
"Don't take this the wrong way, Greg, but most attorneys seem…" Sarah looked apologetically at Peterson as she searched for the word she wanted.
"Don't bother finishing. I agree. I hope you don't see me that way. I've got your back, hon."
"I know you do. My dad told me you would be there for me. Thanks. This ended a lot better than I expected."
As they walked out of the room together, Matt was waiting across from the doorway.
Peterson was quick to address him. "Take her out somewhere nice tonight, Granger. She did a good job in there. Help her take her mind off the depositions." He winked at Matt.
Before either Matt or Sarah could respond, the veteran Agency attorney was down the hall, punching the elevator button.
Matt looked down at Sarah. "I take it that you had it easier than we thought?"
"Yes." She sighed. "Teresa Sandoval tried to intimidate me into answering yes or no, but I caught her off guard—made the defendants look bad. Or at least, I didn't look bad."
"Sounds like she was 'badgering the witness.'"
"You've heard that phrase recently, too?"
"Yeah. Come on. You may not be hungry yet, but you might be soon." He took her hand and led her to the elevator. "We can stop by Jamie's office and grab your coat."
"You don't have to take me to dinner."
"Actually, it sounds like a great idea."
"You don't have reports to work on?"
"They can wait."
Suddenly, Sarah realized that she was hungry. Very hungry. "Dinner would be nice. I know we were just there, but let's go to 'our place.' I'm in the mood for fettuccine. And I may just finish it."
Grinning now, Matt looked over at her as they boarded the elevator. "That's my girl. Martini's it is."