“Gabrielle?”
She slid around him.
Penelope was staring at her with wide eyes, and just behind the entertainment reporter, another woman was also watching her. This woman had dark red hair and a sharp gaze.
Gabrielle’s stare swept over the redhead. With that suit, yes, she would’ve instantly pegged the lady as FBI.
“I have some questions for you,” the redhead said.
“What a coincidence,” Gabrielle muttered right back. “I’ve got my share of those, too.”
She didn’t glance at Cooper as she headed for the conference room. There were too many eyes and ears on them at that moment. It would be far better to have this conversation in private.
Penelope tried to follow them back into the conference room, but the FBI agent firmly shut the door—well, pretty much in the other woman’s face.
Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said to the lady.
“Noelle Evers.” Noelle offered her a brief smile as she marched toward the conference table. Some folders and a notepad were already spread out there. “And I’m here to learn more about your recent phone call with—”
“The D.C. Striker?” Gabrielle finished for her.
“If that’s what you want to call him,” Noelle agreed, but she didn’t sound impressed with the name.
“She’s a profiler,” Cooper said as he took the seat near Noelle. “She’s here to help the cops catch this guy.”
Gabrielle still stood. Her knees had locked on her, so she wasn’t even sure that she could sit. “Have the two of you met before?” Suspicion made her ask that question.
And then it happened. Cooper immediately said, “No,” but the agent’s eyelids jerked, just a little bit. Noelle glanced quickly at Cooper, then away.
Gabrielle’s back teeth clenched. A profiler should learn to be better at hiding her emotions.
But that little tell had convinced Gabrielle that she had to press a bit more. “It’s all about the EOD.”
No emotion crossed Cooper’s face. Oh, so that’s when he does that. The emotion vanished each time he kept a secret from her.
“I don’t think I understand,” Noelle began carefully. She motioned to the nearby chair. “Why don’t you sit down? Then we can really talk.”
Gabrielle felt like they were talking just fine. It wasn’t like sitting improved a conversation. “Why isn’t Detective Carmichael with you? If you’re here investigating the killer, shouldn’t the local cops be helping you?” But Lane hadn’t even given her a heads-up about the profiler.
The whole scene felt wrong. Gabrielle wasn’t going to ignore her instincts any longer.
Noelle glanced over at Cooper once more. What is she doing? It almost looked as if the profiler were waiting to follow Cooper’s lead.
Cooper was staring straight back at Gabrielle. A faint furrow dipped between his brows.
“Right now,” Noelle finally said, “the FBI is assisting the local authorities. It may become necessary for us to take over the investigation, but at this point, I’m just attempting to gather more data about our suspect.”
The answer was smooth, and it sounded rehearsed.
“What did the suspect say, exactly, when he called you, Ms. Harper?” the profiler wanted to know.
“He told me not to trust Cooper. The guy said that Cooper wasn’t who I thought.”
There was still no expression in his eyes.
“He told me,” Gabrielle continued, her chest aching now as she realized that she’d been played by a master, “that if I wasn’t careful, I’d trust the wrong man and I’d wind up dead.”
Cooper surged to his feet. “Gabrielle—”