Mayes shot her a disbelieving look but didn’t say anything more as the front door jerked open.
“Zeke. That’s a Mackay whore, and I don’t want her on my property.” Nadine Grace’s pretty face was twisted in fury, her green eyes blazing with rage. “Get her out of here.”
Slender, still attractive at fifty, and filled with anger, the other woman glared daggers at Chaya.
“I wish I could, Mrs. Grace.” Zeke sighed, glancing at Chaya as she stared back at the other woman coolly.
“Mrs. Grace, I’m Agent Greta Dane, Department of Homeland Security.” She pulled her badge folder from her jacket and flashed the ID at the other woman. “Mackay whore isn’t my title today. Catch me tonight though, and you might hit it right.”
Nadine’s nostrils flared as though picking up a disgusting scent. “Get off my property.”
“Sheriff,” Chaya said to Mayes. “Please have Mrs. Grace detained and brought to your office. We’ll change this from an interview to an interrogation. I’ll call the main office and apprise them of the situation.” She didn’t take her eyes off Nadine Grace.
“Now, Agent Dane, we don’t want to do that.” He sighed.
“Of course we do.” She smiled tightly. “If she doesn’t want to cooperate, then I don’t have to be nice. Do I?”
The other woman was nearly shaking with rage now. Her gaze was spitting fury, her face pale with it.
“Nadine, just a few minutes of your time, and then we can leave,” Sheriff Mayes assured her. “Agent Dane has a few questions. That’s all.”
The woman was going to crack her jaw, she was clenching it so hard.
“You have ten minutes.” She turned away from the door, her dark blue dress swishing about her legs as she stalked into the house.
Chaya stepped inside, instantly shivering at the stark white walls and furniture. The place looked like an ice cave, there was so much white.
“Take your damned shoes off,” Nadine snapped, glaring at them from the living room as she took a seat on the white sofa.
Chaya glanced at the sheriff before putting her briefcase down and tugging off her boots. Mayes followed suit, but clearly didn’t like it.
She padded into the living room and took the chair facing Nadine as she pulled a recorder from her case and laid it on her knee. Nadine spared a look at the small device, her lips curling into a sneer.
Chaya turned it on, stated the date and time.
“For the record, you’re Nadine Mackay Grace, mother to Johnny Grace,” she stated, then stared back at Nadine.
“I am,” she snapped.
“Mrs. Grace, were you aware, at the time, that your son, Johnathon Ralph Grace, was involved in terrorist activities?”
Nadine’s eyes narrowed. “He was not. Johnny wasn’t involved in anything of the sort.”
“There’s clear evidence that he not only masterminded the theft of several government missiles and guidance chips, but he also murdered the driver transporting those missiles. He contracted and brokered the sale of those missiles. He shot and killed Jim Bedsford, his lover and partner, and attempted to kill Crista Jansen. Were you aware of those activities before or during the time they were taking place?”
Nadine was breathing roughly, her fists clenched on her knees, her face splotching with a furious flush. She wasn’t nearly as pretty now as she had been when they had entered the house.
“I don’t have to answer these ridiculous questions,” she snarled.
“We can answer them here, or we can answer them under more formal settings,” Chaya told the other woman. “If you would like to contact your lawyer, we can Mirandize you and take you into the sheriff’s office for interrogation. Why waste time, Mrs. Grace?”
“My son did none of that,” Nadine retorted, her voice harsh. “Those cousins of his, they did it all and they framed him. Those bastards made it look like he did it so they could kill him.”
And Nadine knew better. She was lying through her teeth. Chaya stared back at her silently, her eyes holding the other woman’s for long seconds before Nadine looked away and pretended to blink back tears.
What was she lying about though?
“Mrs. Grace, were you aware of the theft of those missiles at any time before your son was killed?”
“No.” She shook with fury as she answered the question, but once again, she couldn’t hold Chaya’s gaze. She turned to the sheriff. “Isn’t this enough yet?”
Chaya ignored Mayes and continued to stare at Nadine until the other woman glanced back at her.
“Did Johnny tell you where the money he gained on deposit of those missiles was hidden?”
“No.” Like an animal, Nadine’s lips curled back from her teeth and her eyes glittered with malicious glee.
“Who would he have told?”
“No one. He didn’t do it.”
“You’re saying the Mackay cousins framed him?”
“That’s exactly what happened.” Nadine’s teeth snapped together.
“Why would they do that, Mrs. Grace?”
“They always hated Johnny. He was always smarter; he always did what was right. They hated him for it.”
“Was James Dawg Mackay aware Johnny was also the biological son of his father, your brother Chandler Mackay?”
“That’s a lie.” Nadine nearly screamed the word, hatred burning hard and bright in her eyes.
Chaya watched her carefully now. “Mrs. Grace, we have a recorded statement of your son bragging about those crimes. Just as he admitted to being the son of Chandler Mackay, your deceased brother. DNA testing from blood collected after his death and compared to James Mackay’s, proves this to be the case. Are you stating, for the record, that your son was not conceived in an incestuous relationship between yourself and your deceased brother, Chandler Mackay?”
This was the part Chaya hated. The part she had argued and fought Cranston over for days before leaving for Somerset.
Nadine was silent. She drew in a hard, deep breath.
“I want to call my lawyer now,” she stated.
Chaya flipped off the recorder and placed it back in her briefcase before standing. Sheriff Mayes followed suit, his expression granite hard as he glanced at Nadine Grace, then to Chaya.
“You do that, Mrs. Grace,” Chaya told her softly. “And when you do, perhaps you had better warn him to advise you on your rights should you lie under oath. Because the next time we question you, you will be under oath.”