“I’m here for Natalie Cole,” I said.
He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, a voice came from deeper inside the station.
“Well,” it said smoothly, “I had a feeling family would be arriving.”
I turned.
Gavin Pierce stood near the hallway to the interview rooms, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a leather folio. He was the kind of lawyer who spent a great deal of money to look as though money had never interested him. Clean haircut. Tailored suit. Smile that managed to be condescending even while pretending sympathy.
He had handled litigation for Adrian’s company for years. I had met him twice at charity functions and disliked him on sight.
Tonight, he had earned it.
“Mrs. Bennett,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to be pulled into this.”
“Were you?” I asked.
His smile thinned.
“I know this is emotional, but I think it would be wise—”
“No,” I said.
That one word stopped him because I did not raise my voice. Men like Gavin expect resistance to arrive dressed as outrage. Calm unnerves them.
“I’m not interested in guidance from my daughter’s husband’s attorney at two-forty in the morning,” I said. “Where is Natalie?”