Page 29 of Crossfire Creek Siege

She turned her attention to Sheriff Chase next, offering the same dazzling smile she probably used on network anchors back in her glory days. “Sheriff, thank you for reaching out. I’m here to cooperate fully.”

Then her eyes finally found Noah. The change in her expression was subtle, but Gage caught it, the faint softening, the way her voice dropped half an octave. “Noah,” she said, with that too-intimate lilt. “It’s been a long time.”

Noah’s face was unreadable, but his jaw ticked once. “Dr. Astor.”

Corrine tilted her head, still smiling. “Please. We’re past formalities, aren’t we?” She paused, eyes glinting with something that looked like nostalgia. Or maybe mockery. “You look good. I’ve missed you.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Noah didn’t answer, just stared her down, a muscle working in his cheek.

Gage didn’t say a word, but inside his head the alarms were deafening. The act was too polished. Too damn deliberate. Whatever Corrine Astor was selling, he wasn’t buying.

Corrine finally turned to Sheriff Chase again, her tone slipping back into smooth professionalism. “I understand I’m here as part of your investigation into last night’s attack on Crossfire Ops.” She folded her hands neatly in front of her. “Well, you can relax, Sheriff. I’m here to help.”

A pause, a hint of satisfaction curling Corrine’s lips. “Because I know who orchestrated the attack.”

Chapter Nine

Rena’s head snapped up at Corrine’s words.

I know who orchestrated the attack.

For a heartbeat, the entire sheriff’s office went still. Even the deputies typing at their desks paused mid-keystroke. Rena glanced at Gage, saw the same disbelief mirrored in his eyes. Noah’s expression didn’t change much, but his posture sure did. His shoulders went rigid, every line of him tightening with wariness.

Corrine looked utterly at ease under the sudden attention. Too at ease. Her lips curved just slightly, her eyes glinting like she was in control of the room and loving every second of it.

Everything about this woman screamed performance. The smooth voice, the careful body language, even the calculated way she held her hands, palm out, nonthreatening, like a politician selling truth to a crowd. But what Rena felt when she looked at her wasn’t trust.

It was the slick unease of a snake oil pitch.

Sheriff Chase stepped forward, her hard stare pinned to Corrine. “Then maybe you should start by telling us who it was.”

Corrine’s smile didn’t waver. “Of course. But this isn’t a quick story, Sheriff. And it’s… delicate.” Her gaze slid toward Noah, then to Rena and Gage. “Perhaps we should sit down and go over it properly? In one of your interview rooms?”

Rena frowned. That wasn’t a request. It was a maneuver. Corrine was trying to direct the tempo, to make herself the one holding the cards.

Sheriff Chase’s eyes narrowed. “I’d planned to handle the interview solo.”

Corrine gave a soft, almost musical laugh. “And I respect that. But surely the interview can wait a bit, can’t it? I think Noah, Ms. Calloway, and Mr. Kellan deserve to hear this firsthand. From what I understand from media reports, they were the ones in danger, after all.”

Her tone was gentle, sympathetic even, but Rena didn’t buy it for a second. Corrine was playing them, laying a careful trap of charm and authority.

The sheriff hesitated just long enough for the tension to thicken. Then she gave a sharp nod. “Fine. We’ll do this in the interview room.”

Corrine’s smile widened, smug and composed. Her lawyer muttered something under his breath, but she ignored him, gesturing gracefully toward the hallway as if she was leading a tour instead of walking into a suspect interview.

Halfway to the interview room, Sheriff Chase began reading Corrine her rights, her voice clipped and steady.

Corrine’s attorney immediately bristled. “We’re here voluntarily,” he said sharply. “My client hasn’t been charged—”

Corrine stopped and turned to him, still smiling that infuriating smile. “It’s fine, Simon,” she said softly, resting a hand on his arm. “The sheriff has a job to do. And it would be irresponsible for her not to consider me a suspect, wouldn’t it?”

Then Corrine turned to the group, all charm once more. “Sheriff Chase, Noah, Ms. Calloway, Mr. Kellan,” she said smoothly. “This is Simon Rourke, my counsel. He’s here to ensure I’m treated fairly.”

“Of course,” Chase said flatly, opening the door to the small interview room.

Rena followed them inside, her pulse quickening. The interview room was small and sterile, the kind of space designed to squeeze truth out of people. Or at least make them sweat. Pale gray walls, one reinforced window, and a single table bolted to the floor with four metal chairs. A camera sat in the upper corner, red light blinking steadily.

Sheriff Chase moved around the table with practiced efficiency, pulling out her chair and setting a small digital recorder in the center. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence.