Sure he was. Lies, deception, threats, blackmail, drugs, assault ... they were all tools in Gabriel's arsenal. From the way Evans was studying me, I wasn't reacting appropriately.
"Olivia?"
"I-I don't know what to think," I said, injecting as much uncertainty into my voice as I could. "I'm sorry."
"Do you believe he's trying to frame me?" Evans asked. "For the murder of my son?"
"I don't know."
"Do you believe I'm capable of murdering my son?"
My surprise then was genuine. "No, people don't--"
"They do, Olivia."
"But not for something like this. There was a senate hearing on MKULTRA. It's part of history. If your son found out, it wouldn't matter."
"Yes, it would. But not in the way Gabriel seems to think." He folded his hands on the desk. "I am ashamed of that part of my life and would have hated for my son to know about it. That's why his mother and I agreed to keep it a secret."
"So Peter never found out."
"No."
"Actually he did. Peter found out just before he died and he told Josh Gray."
"Who?"
One word. That's all it took. One single syllable and with it, I knew Evans was lying, and I felt a thud in my gut. I'd wanted to believe he had nothing to do with this. Really wanted to believe it, so much that I'd barely dared entertain the possibility.
I'd been wrong.
"Josh Gray," I said. "Peter's best friend."
"I'm afraid I didn't know all my son's friends, and I've forgotten those I did--"
"Josh called you yesterday."
A shot in the dark, but Evans went very still.
"We confirmed the phone records," I lied as I set my coffee on the desk. "By the way, would you try this? It tastes off."
"Wh-what?"
"My coffee. It doesn't taste right."
He looked at my cup and when he did, I could tell he knew exactly what I was talking about, and if I'd entertained any last shred of doubt, it died there. Evans was involved. My coffee was dosed. I was in danger. I tried to keep my breathing steady.
Where was my gun?
In my jacket. Which was on the back of my chair. I could get to it if I needed to, but there was no way to do so quickly, not without Evans noticing. My cell phone was in my jeans pocket, which meant there was also no way to discreetly text Gabriel. I had to play this out.
"My coffee tastes wrong," I said. "I think the cream's bad."
A soft exhale of relief. "Oh, of course, I'm sorry. I misheard. I'll get Maria to pour you a fresh cup. Now, about this friend of Peter's, Josh Gray. I'm sure there's been some mistake." He paused, as if considering. "Gabriel told you this, didn't he? About Gray and the phone records."
Before I could answer, the phone rang. He glanced down at the call display. Consternation crossed his face. "I'm sorry, Olivia. I do need to take this."
He rose to carry the cordless phone elsewhere so he could speak privately. I rose, too, leaning over the desk to see who was calling.