Don't Let Go: 17

17

“This is insane. You know this is insane, right?” Trish asks once Heidi and Marcus get her inside the interrogation room. She refuses the chair, and paces back and forth across the width of the table, executing tight, military-precise turns, arms folded tightly across her narrow waist.

“We’ve reviewed the security footage,” Heidi says. “And no one approached the door of the hotel room. Which means the threatening note Avery found on the floor originated inside the room.”

Trish flaps her arms out; her hands slap down against her thighs with a sharp sound that echoes off the cinderblock walls. “And you think I did it? Are you serious?” She rounds on them, hands on her hips, and for all that she’s the size of a willow switch, the pose lends her the aggression of a striking cobra, flashing eyes and everything. “Do you know what kind of money Avery pulls down each month? She’s a cash cow!”

“I’m sure Avery will be touched to hear that,” Heidi drawls.