Chapter Eight
~Christian~
It's been a week since someone burned down both Ana and Kate's apartment and Ana's car. Except for Ray, we have all stayed with my parents. When it came time for Ray to leave, Anastasia behaved in a way that I've never seen her. Ray said the same thing. She began to cry hysterically and started to scratch the ever-loving shit out of her thighs, a strange habit she's begun, but one that Dr. Berman is watching closely. Then when Ray was gone, she grabbed the injured side of her head and started yelling in pain. If Dad hadn't have caught her, she would have face planted in the foyer. It all ended with mother sedating her and calling Dr. Berman. All that pointless phone call accomplished was Berman reminding Mother that head injuries can cause behavior that a person has never exhibited and suggest that Ana start seeing a psychiatrist.
The next morning, she was fine and didn't seem to recall much of her breakdown. I've done everything that I know how to do to keep the fires out of Ana's head. So far, so good. I worked for a while via Skype, and Elliot was busy drawing out a house that's he's going to be building out in Medina. It made me consider talking to Ana about buying a home near the coast, a place where I'd love to live.
I insisted on staying with Mom and Dad, and Elliot decided it would be best if Kate and him did the same. One day, Kate and Mia decided to show Ana more pictures and videos of our family in the hopes of kick starting her memory. It didn't work. Then the girls tried a different tactic. They began to regale her with stories of how many times we've been caught fucking by nearly every member of the family, sans Mom and Dad. Ana's mind is still so innocent that she could barely believe it. She's having a difficult time believing her sexuality had blossomed so much and that she became such a carnal woman doing our times together. I don't know if it was that discussion with the girls or what, but that night was the first time we came close to being intimate. But since the accident, Ana hasn't been receiving her birth control shot and I didn't have a condom. Regardless, I was content to hold her until she fell asleep and I was so happy that she felt so comfortable with me that she was ready to make love.
Every night, while holding her in my arms as we fall asleep, Ana tells me that I'm everything that is sweet and wonderful, and how much that I've brightened her boring world. She's clueless to the fact that I'm nothing of the sort. Ana trusts me as implicitly as she did when we first met and before she knew the dark things that I wanted from her.
The entire family has been tense since the fire, and I haven't had the heart to lay more misconceptions in Anastasia's head. She's already afraid and paranoid that her former boss, a man she doesn't remember, assaulted her and might also be an arsonist who tried to kill her. Unfortunately, no one caught sight of a suspicious person at the apartment complex that evening. Being in the dark and clueless is frustrating, and this event only adds more mystery to my life; we still don't know who sabotaged Charlie Tango.
Immediately after the fire, both dad and I managed to put off the SPD and Seattle FD from questioning Anastasia and Kate. Both agencies were annoyed, but agreed to hold off speaking to Ana due to her health, but were persistent about interviewing Kate. After Dad said the girls would be more comfortable talking to both departments together, it brought about another series of arguments between our respective camps. They demanded access to Ana and Kate by week's end. I'm not looking forward to it whatsoever. However, a single and disturbing phone call demolished that temporary stay of the investigation.
Saul Avery, the lead investigator for the NTSB, who is leading the Charlie Tango investigation, contacted us and requested a meeting as soon as possible. He knocked everyone off their fucking feet when he revealed that the crash and the fire were directly related. I could no longer put off the fucking meeting. Detective Clark, who is heading the investigation of Hyde's assault on Ana, will be there, along with the fire department. I only hope the head arson investigator won't be present, but the foreboding feeling around me is telling me that my hope is a wasted one.
The meeting is scheduled for 6:45 at my dad's office when everyone has gone home. I insisted on this time since I don't want his employees catching sight of our impending guests. We all head to a conference room. Dad's conference rooms aren't as are cavernous and impersonal like mine at GEH. The dark wood tables comfortably sit twenty people. Dad takes his chair at the far end, is where he holds court and watches his employees often sit rigidly – gauging his mood for the meeting. This is how I'm a lot like my father. I expect the full attention of my employees and demand intelligent, precise, and knowledgeable answers to any fastball questions that I throw at them. I treat unprepared, stuttering employees with caustic derision that has often left me feeling smug. Admittedly, I'm an asshole when I'm in CEO mode and I think my dad is the same at his law office.
Today, that insufferable CEO won't be insolently holding court on his throne, and to be honest, that pisses me off. Today, this particular cavernous conference room feels like a small cage packed with eight people inside. I've found out that indeed, the head of arson investigations will be present, and the thought of it has me, Christian Grey, rattled and flinching from dread. This could be an epic disaster.
I never imagined I'd have to be around this particular person again, much less have to answer to them due to their authoritative position. It's the definition of ironic. I'm in a chair that faces the door, with Anastasia sitting closely to my right. Beside her is an unusually quiet Kate Kavanagh, who is gripping Elliot's hand. Dad's present as support, as well in the capacity of advising Ana or Kate when it comes to answering any legal question that may come up.
But the main fucking question is why in the hell does this have to do with Charlie Tango?
Promptly at 6:45, Taylor enters the room, escorting Avery, Clark, and mother fucking Rachel Warren in. Welch trails behind them and shuts the door. We all stand for the formality of introductions and insincere pleasantries. When the time comes for me to shake Mrs. Warren's hand, I feel bile rising up into my throat, but blandly address her as I do Clark and Avery. I've spent most of the past hour dialing down my inner Dominant that sometimes raises his ugly head whenever I feel the need to be in charge. I most definitely don't want Mrs. Warren to recognize his presence. Rachel Warren – or as I knew her, Rachel Lowe – was submissive number eleven, sandwiched between Abigail and Leila. Four years ago, we had a six-month contract that ended amicably. Since then, I've seen and sometimes heard her name mentioned on blurbs on newscasts or caught her name in the Seattle Times. I only knew she had married because I saw her wedding announcement in the newspaper. I've never given the woman a second thought in any other capacity, and now she's sitting around a conference table about to question my sweet, unknowing girlfriend. I feel like breaking everything around me.
My fucked up past strikes again.
Fortunately, Mrs. Warren is professional and doesn't bat an eyelash when we are "introduced." She looked me directly in the eyes and firmly shook my hand. Of course, she has as much to lose if she's not the poster girl for discretion. She takes the lead and starts the meeting by addressing Ana and Kate. It looks like the fire will be discussed first, but my eyes, along with Welch's and my father's are flitting toward Saul Avery of the NTSB. I know that we're all wanting to know how Charlie Tango fits into all of this.
"Miss Kavanagh, Miss Steele…I'm sorry we're meeting under such difficult circumstances. Miss Steele, I trust that you feel well enough for this interview today?" Warren asks, her tone is kind. She has a pen in hand, ready to scrawl down whatever the girls may say.
I grab Ana's hand, that's clammy, and kiss it, and rest it on the table. I don't know why I care, but I don't want this woman to have any doubt that Ana is my girlfriend and not a submissive. Anastasia lifts her blue eyes and search mine. They are wide with uncertainty and a tinge of fear. I kiss her on the forehead, in hopes it calms her down.
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking," Ana replies softly. She keeps shifting in her seat.
Warren nods, smiling at her. Her attitude isn't of the bitch I've occasionally seen on the news. "I'm very glad to hear that. I've only got several questions to ask you and Miss Kavanagh, and then we'll fill you all in on what our investigation has found so far."
"You've uncovered who started the fire?" I blurt, doing my hardest to keep the Dom from emerging in the tone of my voice. Warren looks at me. Her expression is devoid of any emotion. That's right. Act as this is the first time we've ever met, lady.
"Mr. Grey, we'll get to the heart of the investigation shortly. Right now, I just need to clarify a few things with Miss Kavanagh and Miss Steele." Though strongly spoken, her words come slowly, as if she is choosing them carefully.
"Again, I'd like to start with Miss Kavanagh and Miss Steele," she continues. I say nothing, and she looks at Ana and Kate. "Miss Steele, I understand that you sustained memory loss from your attack in September, but I need to know if you've been back to your apartment since being released from the hospital."
"No. I went straight to Christian's parents home. I've been staying there since then," she replies.
"And when were you released from the hospital?" Warren asks.
Anastasia looks at me again, probably unsure of the date. Why the fuck does that matter?
"Ana came to our home two days before Thanksgiving," Dad volunteers. Ana offers him a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Grey. Now, Miss Kavanagh, you're currently living with Elliot Grey?" Warren addresses Kate, who sits up straighter in her chair.
"No. We're staying with his parents. I've also been there since Thanksgiving."
"Miss Kavanagh, did you ever go back to your apartment after Miss Steele's assault?"
"Yes, many times. I'd go to pick up things I needed, such as clothes and the like. I also went and got the mail," Kate replies. "But I never went alone."
"Do you recall the last time that you were in the apartment?" asks Warren, who is scribbling away.
You can see Kate's mind turning the question over in her mind. I'm not so sure she really remembers, but she answers. The day before Ana got out of the hospital. I got a bit of her clothing and other things I knew she might want. I also grabbed some pictures to see if they would help with her memory loss."
"On any of the occasions that you were inside your apartment – especially that last day – did you notice anything amiss? Was anything not where it should have been or was anything missing?"
Kate stares at Warren, pondering her question. Kate narrows her eyes and shakes her head.
"No," she replies.
I want to start yelling and become the insolent asshole that I'm used to being in meetings. Get to the goddamn point, Warren.
"One more question, Miss Kavanagh; please don't take offense to it. I'm only asking because it's pertinent to a certain aspect of the investigation. I know it's personal, and I apologize in advance, but I have to ask." Warren offers Kate a small apologetic smile. "What size clothes do you wear?"
What in the fuck?
Kate's eyes widen and her cheeks redden. She looks affronted and I do as well. What kind of question is that to ask someone, much less in a meeting such as this.
I notice anger rising in Kate's eyes as they stroll around the men surrounding the table. She's embarrassed and my brother looks like he wants to choke Warren. Join the club, brother. Kate shakes Elliot's hand off of her.
"What the hell?" Kate snaps.
Warren nods as if she understands Kate's outrage. Her expression sympathetic.
"I do apologize for upsetting you, Miss Kavanagh. I know that question is intrusive and private, but I assure you that I wouldn't dare ask if I didn't need to. I'm in no way making it a point to victimize you any further, much less embarrass you. I'm reluctantly inquiring, but it's truly is important," Warren replies.
Kate stares at Ana, running her fingers through her long strawberry blonde hair and huffs. Anastasia shrugs her shoulders at her friend and slightly moves her head in Warren's direction. Kate must take it as an instruction to calm down and answer the question. Kate rolls her eyes and I'm afraid Warren is about to feel the wrath only Kate Kavanagh can bestow.
"Six," she replies through gritted teeth. Elliot, who looks just as irritated as I feel, is rubbing Kate's back.
"Thank you, Miss Kavanagh. You just helped us tremendously." Warren lowers her head to write something down. Looking back up at Kate, she continues.
"Miss Kavanagh, to your knowledge, was Miss Steele's car ever moved from her parking spot after she was assaulted in September?"
I can't take any more of this pointless bullshit.
"What does that have to do with Miss Steele and Miss Kavanagh's apartment being set on fire?" I snap.
Mrs. Warren ignores me. "Miss Steele, do you happen to wear a size two?" she asks. "I'm asking the two of you these personal questions because we found burnt remnants of women's clothing in your car. A lot of clothes," she emphasizes.
Rachel Warren looks at Ana. "Miss Steele, do you happen to wear a size two?" she quietly asks.
Oh, hell no. She just didn't go there. I bet this bitch called Caroline Acton. Strike one, Mrs. Warren.
Kate and Ana are staring at each other perplexed, but Ana begins to rapidly scratch the thighs of the jeans she's wearing. I catch Kate watching her, too, with a concerned expression on her face.
"You believe the clothes were Ana's?" Elliot speaks up.
Warren nods. "They're a size two. Through our investigation, we know that Miss Steele is a size two."
"Wait! How did you find out what size of clothes Ana wears?" Kate demands angrily.
Fuck. My stomach tightens. This Warren bitch really went there. Well, I'm sure they had to get a subpoena for the information.
Warren smiles indulgently at her. "Through the investigation, Miss Kavanagh," is all she says.
"What kind of answer is that, Mrs. Warren?" Ana finally speaks up. "That's an invasion of my privacy."" Ana's voice is rising incredulously.
Rachel Warren looks at the girls warily.
"Please, respect the position that I'm in ladies. I'm only doing my job, as are the investigators who work for me. Trust that for now, all information gathered is private."
Warren's bitch attitude has made a grand entrance, and I'm within milliseconds from reaching across the table and choking her. From the looks of Kate and Ana, I'd say that locking her ass in a room alone with them would be a far worse fate.
"Ana's statement is valid, Mrs. Warren. The last time that I checked this meeting is informal. Ana deserves to know if you've been snooping through her closet, so to speak."" My father says.
He's grimacing. I've no doubt it's over Warren's disparaging remarks and bitchy attitude.
"All right, Miss Steele. We found out about what size of clothes you wear by speaking to a Ms. Caroline Acton, from Neiman Marcus. She's the woman who personally put together a wardrobe for you."
Warren tells Ana in a manner respecting her memory loss. She also doesn't as much as glance my way. My body is about to crack from fury. Of course, Rachel Warren would know how to find out the size clothes my sweet girl wears. I kept her dressed in the finest clothes from Neiman's, and she knows that I used Caroline Acton as a personal shopper for her.
This bitch must have assumed Anastasia is my sub. Fucking hell. Meanwhile, Ana and Kate are still indignant and bristling in their respective seats. I take Ana's hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze. She surprises me by pulling it away. She looks confused, but mainly, she looks pissed off.
"Who is Caroline Acton, and why does she know anything about the clothes I wear, much less what size I am? Christian, what is she talking about?" Ana hisses at me under her breath.
Talk about a loaded question.
"Baby, I wanted to do something special for you before you began your new job. I thought that buying you some nice professional clothing would be a good idea," I reply.
Ana's forehead crinkles. "From Neiman Marcus? That store is so-"
"Expensive?" Kate interjects, still glaring at Warren. "Come on, Ana. We're talking about the mogul, remember? Sweetie, he's kept your clothes closet stocked better than mine. I borrow your clothes now."
Anastasia still looks confused, and Kate isn't given the chance to elaborate or ask Warren how she knew to ask Caroline Acton.
Shit. I've also just realized that Warren believes Ana is my sub since I not only used Caroline Acton to personally shop for Ana, but she also has a red Audi. Rather, had a red Audi.
Fuck my life.
Mrs. Warren sighs and continues. "May I finish?" she asks.
We all nod as one.
"The accelerant in both fires was gasoline. We believe the car was set on fire before the apartment as a diversion. As I've said, we believe it's significant for some unknow reason that the fire in the car was started on Miss Steele's clothes. Second issue is that the apartment fire was started in Miss Steele's bedroom," she offers softly. I can tell that she genuinely feels bad for Anastasia.
Ana begins to cry and Kate gathers her up in her arms. "Why is someone doing this to me?" Ana asks.
"I don't know, honey. I promise they'll find out. Christian will find out," Kate responds.
Elliot swears under his breath. "Do you have a suspect?" he asks.
Warren ignores him just like she did Ana. "It was arson, no doubt. Now, Detective Clark, would you like to inform them of what the PD knows?" she asks.
Clark looks like he'd rather eat shit. He clears his throat. He opens a small notebook
"We know you set up a security system after Miss Steele was attacked and when Miss Kavanagh wasn't living in the apartment since she'd moved in with your brother. This is when we believe Miss Steele's clothing was stolen, not the night of the fires. This conclusion was easy; there wasn't a single incident of the system being breached until the night of the fire," he tells us.
I jump to my feet. "What? What in the fuck? I exclaim. "You fucking idiots said there were no signs that Ana's apartment had been broken into after Hyde attacked her!"
"Christian, sit down," Dad orders me.
"The fuck I will!" I yell. "Clark, explain!"
Clark turns his chair so he's directly facing me.
"Grey, we based this because there weren't any indications of a break in. You know that we couldn't speak to Miss Steele, and Miss Kavanagh stated nothing was out of place in the apartment. She also denied that anything was missing. My 'fucking idiots' know that Miss Steele's clothes were taken prior to the security system being put in place since it never alerted your security gurus that it had been breached." Clark is pissed all the way off and I don't give a fuck. Clark takes off his suit jacket and then blows our minds.
"And no one has said it was Hyde who broke into the apartment."
Now, I'm yelling. Dad has stood up to his full height, and is pacing, while Elliot is swearing and Anastasia is trying to shred her jeans. The Grey's are not behaving like the Brady Bunch.
Mrs. Warren takes a long sip of water. "How about I continue? I promise that you really want to hear what we found," she says.
Dad sits down and nods. I'm so angry that I can feel the Dom in me trying to come out, and I'm trying like hell to damp him. The last thing I need is for this bitch to notice. She shuffles a few papers before she begins.
"The perp who set the fire came in through Miss Steele's bedroom window, and whether it happened before or after the fire started, they left us a little present." She stops and my brow furrows.
Dad looks at me and then over at Elliot. We instantly realize what she's saying.
"The bedroom window was broken, and the perp cut themselves. Badly. We found blood on both the window seal and on the fire escape that's under Miss Steele's window. We believe they did have on gloves at some point, because they only left a few finger prints." She stops, and we're all holding our breath.
It's then that I look down the table at Seth Avery. Oh, my God. I think I know why he's here. Holy mother fucker.
Charlie Tango
"Did any of the finger prints hit the data base?" Welch asks. I forgot he was in the room.
A small smile turns up Clark's lips. "Yes," he breaks in. "But we also ran the blood, and found a match."
"Who is it?" I breath
None of them answer me.
"The prints and blood nailed the perp to Vancouver, Canada. Seems they like to drive drunk, and on June 14th, 2011, they had an accident that sent them to an emergency room," he tells us. "Then they were arrested and spent a night in the drunk tank. We got a match on the blood because they refused a breathalyzer and the hospital drew blood."
I run my fingers through my hair. "Who gives shit about that? Who. Is. It?" I demand to know.
"Mr. Avery, would you like to step in now?" Clark addresses the unassuming man who's been sitting at the other end of the table, taking in the meeting.
"Of course. Mr. Grey, we were able to take the fingerprints found at the arson site, as well as the Vancouver PD, and matched them with the partial ones we found on your helicopter. They all matched."
No one utters a word. I think all of our jaws are on the floor. This is unfuckingbelievable and I can't talk.
"Are you saying that the person who tried to kill my son then went after Anastasia?" Dad asks.
Again, we have to wait a long moment before we get a reply.
"Once more, we've ran it multiple times. They match the partial print the NTSB found on your son's sabotaged helicopter, as well as the prints at the site of the fire." Avery addresses my dad.
My family erupts, asking questions left and right. Shell shocked, my eyes flit to Taylor and then Welch. They both look impassive, but they've got to be shocked. I know they're both wondering the why of this.
Then, a penny drops in Elliot's brain. It's something he's ragged my security team over for months, but now he doesn't look like he's kidding.
"Avery, is it still the opinion of the NTSB that it was a woman who sabotaged Charlie Tango? Is that still the case? he asks.
Avery doesn't look at Elliot. His attention is centered on me. "That's the case. Without a doubt, we know who the perp is," he replies.
I feel like I've been punched unexpectedly in the face, and my family gasps.
"Well, what are you all waiting for? Who the fuck did it?" I shout, causing Ana to jump.
Clark opens a folder and takes out several small pictures. They're mugshots. He passes them around the table and even gives one to Welch and Taylor, who both remain impassive when they look at it. They really deserve a raise.
"Who is this?" Ana says in a small voice while she studies the picture. I can see her hands shaking.
I can't answer her because I'm about to die of heart failure. I'm going to die right here in Dad's office.
I can't take my eyes off the picture I'm holding.
I vaguely hear the fervid murmurings of those around me. I can barely make out Ana's soft voice asking me once more if I know who the woman is.
Mother fucker. What am I going to tell her?
Mother fucker. What am I going to tell my family?
"Do any of you recognize this woman?"
I snap out of my thoughts when I hear Clark asking around my family. A collection of no's go around the table, and I realize that I haven't answered. But how do I answer? When I answer Clark, he's going to ask how I know her, and then I'll have a lot of difficult explaining to do.
Shit on explaining. More like lying.
I'd rather lie to Clark than have to squirm my way out of this with my family, not to mention how this may hurt Ana.
Grey, just lie to the man.
But just as I'm about to shake my head and tell him I have no clue as to who she is, I remember who is sitting around the table with us.
I fucking remember she's here, who she was to me, and what she knows. What, and who she knows. I can't fucking lie to Clark, or to anyone else, because Rachel Warren will know that I'm lying.
She already knows who the cunt in the picture is. Fucking hell. Has she told Clark or Avery the truth about me? Who this woman in this picture was to me? Has she decided to stick with the NDA she signed when she became my sub, or has she given her job precedence, and identified the bitch in the picture?
Shit, is she waiting to see if I own up to knowing her? Warren can't honestly expect me to tell everyone in this room how I know this woman and what I was to them both. She knows that I kept my previous sexual lifestyle a secret from my family.
"Grey?" Clark repeats, more forcefully this time.
Fucking hell. Ana, I know you don't remember whether I've had past relationships, but if this hurts you, I'm so sorry.
Here goes everything. I drop the picture on the table, and see every set of eyes in the room on me. I nod at him. No one makes a sound. From my peripheral vision, I see Rachel Warren. She's just watching with a blank expression.
"Yes, I know her."
"May I ask how you know her?" Now, I can tell that he was clueless that I knew her. Thank you, God – or Rachel Warren.
"I was involved with her several years ago," I reply.
Ana's eyes are on me, and Elliot and Kate are staring at me. But Kate doesn't look surprised. I'd analyze what that means but I don't have time to think about it.
Ana's head is turned towards her best friend. Ana only remembers asking me if I was gay during the interview for the WSUV newspaper. My family thinks Ana was the first woman in my life; hell, even my family believed that I was gay.
My life is about to go up into flames. No pun intended.
"Can you elaborate on that, Mr. Grey?" he asks.
Like Clark, Warren and Avery are scribbling away.
"In what way, Detective Clark? What would you like to know?" I ask, blandly.
"You say you were involved with her. Classify what 'involved with her' means to you."
Fucking bastard.
Just keep the mask of indifference on, Grey. Keep the Dom at bay, and don't let Warren know you're shitting yourself on the inside.
"We were in a relationship. We dated."
Warren keeps taking notes. Fuck, why am I surprised by her not having a reaction to my denial? She fucking knew I was going to have to out myself to my family.
Hell, I could point my finger at her, and invite Clark and Avery to Escala to see some pictures of her in a most unflattering light.
My short-lived smug attitude quickly abates when I hear Ana softly asking Kate and Elliot questions.
I hear my brother answer her with a soft, "I don't know."
"When did you date? How long were you involved with her?" Clark persists.
"Over three years ago, and I believe we saw each other for nine months or so."
My father is doing his fucking best to not look completely shocked. I also know he most definitely doesn't appreciate being in the dark before walking into this meeting. Great. I'll have to deal with that, too.
"Why did the relationship end, Mr. Grey?" Clark hounds me.
"It ran its course. We weren't in the same place, and decided it were better if we parted."
That much is true.
"Would you say it ended on friendly terms?"
"Yes. I thought our split was amicable. I certainly wouldn't have expected her to pop back into my life three years later, and try to murder me and my girlfriend," I reply, trying to concentrate on selling him these lies, while my mind is whirling around over the reactions of my family and sweet girl.
"Tell me how the two of you met."
Let's see. Elena Lincoln brought her to me so I could interview her to be my submissive.
"We met at my establishment, The Mile High Club."
That's also true, but I leave out that part that the meeting was in a private area in the club.
I sigh deeply. "Here it is in a nutshell. I met her at Mile High, and we dated for several months. She was interested in a more serious relationship than I was, so we decided it was better to part, and it was mutual. No one left screaming or crying, or mentioning one murdering the other."
"Okay. Do you recall where she was from? Where was she employed?" he asks. "Any names of any friends she had at the time? Did you meet any of her family? We can't find any known address. In fact, we can't find anything about her."
The thought I met her family nearly makes me laugh. I wonder what Rachel Warren is thinking.
But for the first time in my memory, my brain is stuttering and my thoughts are reeling and jumbled. I cannot believe this shit. I do my best to remember anything about her.
"She was an engineer at some company that I can't recall, and was from Vancouver, Canada. I never met any of her family," I reply, but then catch Taylor's glance. It's as though he's telling me something.
It spurs a memory, and I bite my tongue to keep from swearing. I do remember something this bitch did do. She fucking listed me as a reference when she was trying to start a company earlier this year. I went nuts because she broke her NDA and I blackballed her in the Pacific Northwest.
Ah, this could be a motive…
"Mr. Grey, you don't know any of her friends?" Clark asks again.
Fucking hell. If you want to know who her friends are, ask Mrs. Warren. She probably knows.
"She's never contacted you since you broke up?" he asks.
"No," I lie, and I really hope Rachel Warren doesn't know that just I lied.
"Were you aware if she had a substance abuse problem? Were there any indications of alcohol or drug abuse?" Clark asks for some fucking stupid reason.
Ana is still rubbing the shit out of her legs for some damn reason, and I'm about to pull my hair out. Kate takes a hand and stops Ana's frenetic movements.
"Well, whether or not Mr. Grey can shed light on any of that is irrelevant. We may not have a motive, but we have evidence that indicates who is behind the sabotage of his helicopter, as well as being behind the arson. Each agency present puts precedence on locating the suspect." Rachel Warren says.
And, the Seattle PD is working tirelessly to locate Jack Hyde," Clark begins. "I feel confident that we will make an arrest and justice will be served, Miss Steele. For now, safety-"
"Is paramount," my father interrupts "My son has top notch security, as you all know."
"Of course," Warren replies, looking towards Welch and Taylor. "The Seattle FD and police department will be releasing the photograph and name to the public. We want unbiased eyes on the ground in case they catch sight of her. Mr. Grey, I'd like for your family to keep a photograph of the suspect so they'll be familiar with her. I'd hate for her to approach any of them and catch them unaware. Do you find that agreeable?" She raises her eyebrows at me.
"Certainly," I answer, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
"Mr. Avery, what about the NTSB? Do you have a plan on releasing any information leading to this woman's arrest?" Dad inquires.
Avery clears his throat and looks my father dead in the eye. "No. Our plan is to keep her identity under wraps for the time being. Finding out this woman's vocation has us looking deeper into both of the helicopter's engines being tampered with. We prefer to handle this quietly. However, we will stay in constant contact with Clark and the Seattle police, and cooperate fully."
Dad nods and then gives me a look that I can't decipher.
"Are there any questions for us?" Warren asks, gathering her paperwork back into their respective folders.
"Not at the moment, Mrs. Warren. I trust each of you will be in constant contact with us, or my son's security heads?" My dad asks her.
"Absolutely, Mr. Grey. We'll all reconvene if need arises. Please contact any one of us if you think of anything that will be beneficial," she replies.
Everyone stands. This time my family don't offer a hand to shake.
Anastasia rises leans towards the table, looking around. Her eyes finally settle on Rachel Warren.
She's holding up a photograph.
"Christian knows who this woman is, but I'm clueless. Would someone mind telling me who she is? Ana speaks up, her voice stronger and angrier than I've heard it in months.
She's pissed. Fuck.
Rachel Warren smiles at Ana sympathetically. "Miss Steele, the woman's name is Leila Williams, and I'm afraid that Mr. Grey is the only one who can fill you in on who she is.