“Is it?” I questioned.
He cleared his throat. “Not under these circumstances. I was briefed about the bomb threat. I’m sorry to hear about that this morning. I’m glad everyone is safe. The team did an excellent job with the evacuation. I’m glad there were no injuries reported.”
“Are there any updates?” I looked between him and AJ.
“As a matter of fact, we can report there were no explosives found in the hotel,” Canson announced. “There was a thorough sweep of all the floors. The explosives team has cleared the building for re-entry. My understanding is that all of the guests have returned to their rooms.”
“Except us,” I grumbled.
“There was a bomb threat, Ms. Miller.”
“It was just like our cars at the farmhouse,” I whispered. “No bomb.”
I shook my head. AJ had been right. The bomb scare was merely a smoke screen to force me out. It had worked.
“Any idea who made the threat?” I pressed.
“Our agents are working on that. I can’t say much more. It’s an active investigation.”
“But you of course want to talk to me about the on-going investigation for Flight 552.”
“That’s a difference circumstance. You are a key witness. The key witness.”
“And I’m not for the bomb threat?” I argued.
I saw AJ’s eyes. He wanted me to be compliant. I wasn’t sure how to do that. I was angry. Frustrated. Maybe he should take me back to the bedroom.
Canson glanced at AJ. “I realize Ms. Miller is upset about these situations, but I’m hoping we can have a reasonable interview.”
“It’s not going to be a problem,” AJ replied.
The guilt crept in. Canson was one of his co-workers. I didn’t need to make things harder for him.
“Should we sit for a minute together before I continue the interview alone with Ms. Miller?”
“Sydney. Please call me Sydney. Otherwise, it sounds like you’re talking about my mom.”
Agent Canson nodded. “Fair enough.”
We gathered at the kitchen table. I smelled coffee brewing in the coffee pot on the counter. I was too jittery to drink a cup.
Agent Canson reached into his bag and dumped a pile of envelopes and magazines on the table.
“Is that my mail?” I saw my name on credit card offers and donation requests. I picked through the stack of envelopes. “Why do you have my mail?” I glared at the agent. I was ready to pull back my one olive branch. He could go back to calling me Ms. Miller.
“After the hijacking, one of our teams entered your apartment to collect evidence.”
“And you took my mail??
?
He continued, “We obtained any and all communication going in and out of your residence. That includes mail routed through the United States Postal Service.” He tilted his head to the side. “I thought I’d have you look through it here and see if anything seems odd or unusual. We didn’t find anything ourselves, but you would know your mail better than anyone.”
I pinched my lips together. “No one uses snail mail. This seems invasive. And unnecessary,” I added.
AJ reached under the table and squeezed my thigh. I needed to back off Agent Canson. I knew I wasn’t living up to my part of the agreement. I closed my eyes and tried to picture the night we were going to have tonight. I tried to picture his expression when I told him I was going to join Project Compass. I had to get through the next few hours.
I exhaled and thumbed through the leaflets and junk mail. There was a large square envelope buried in the mix. I plucked it from the stack.