The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 195

***Agent Naomi Bennett***

The second we walked Evelyn Hargrove into the Seattle Police Department, I felt the shift.

Not fear.

Pressure.

Eyes tracked us from every direction as we moved through the bullpen floor.

Officers paused mid conversation.

Dispatchers looked up from their desks.

Detectives suddenly found paperwork very interesting.

And every single one of them watched the handcuffs.

Interesting.

Because more than half this damn station still didn’t understand what was actually happening yet.

To them?

Evelyn Hargrove was the woman who funded new patrol vehicles.

Approved equipment budgets.

Pushed “public safety initiatives.”

Hell, some of them probably thought she was protecting the city.

That was the dangerous part about people like her.

They wrapped corruption inside good intentions until nobody noticed the rot underneath.

Agent Locke walked beside me silently while Hargrove remained perfectly composed between us.

That irritated me more than panic would’ve.

No tears.

No yelling.

No fear.

Just calm.

Like she still believed she’d walk out of this building eventually.

Maybe she thought Asher West would save her.

We passed interrogation room three and I immediately noticed movement behind the two-way mirror already.

Too many silhouettes.

Jesus Christ.

Half the department was back there.

Watching.

Of course they were.

News spread fast inside police stations.

Especially when one of the city’s most powerful women got dragged in by the FBI.

Hargrove noticed too.

I saw the faintest smile touch her mouth.

I opened the interrogation room door before gesturing calmly toward the metal chair.

“Sit.”

Hargrove did.

Elegant even in handcuffs somehow.

Locke remained near the wall while I took the chair directly across from her.

The room itself was freezing cold.

Gray walls.

Metal table bolted to the floor.

Single camera blinking red from the ceiling corner.

Classic interrogation setup.

But the real pressure sat behind the mirror.

Watching.

Waiting.

Judging.

Not me.

Her.

They just didn’t realize it yet.

I slid the thick federal case file onto the table slowly before opening it.

Paperwork.

Photographs.

Bank records.

Communication logs.

Enough evidence to bury half the damn city if processed correctly.

Hargrove leaned back slightly in her chair.

“You’re enjoying this,” she observed softly.

“No,” I answered honestly. “I’m exhausted.”

That actually made her smile faintly.

“Evelyn Hargrove,” I began evenly, “you are currently being charged pending federal review with conspiracy to obstruct justice, witness intimidation, abuse of political office, unlawful database access, conspiracy tied to multiple homicide investigations, and corruption involving city officials and law enforcement personnel.”

Hargrove’s expression barely shifted. Then finally, “I want my lawyer.”

I closed the file slowly before leaning back slightly in my chair.

“Oh,” I said calmly. “Didn’t you hear?”

For the very first time since this entire process started… Something flickered across her face.

Tiny, but there.

I folded my hands together loosely on the table. “Asher West won’t be joining us today.”

Silence.

Hargrove stared at me carefully now.

I continued evenly. “He disappeared roughly forty minutes after your arrest.” I tilted my head slightly. “Seems like someone got scared.” I paused briefly. “Hmm?”

For the first time all morning… Evelyn Hargrove looked irritated.

Not afraid. Irritated.

Like Asher running offended her personally.

Behind the mirror, I caught movement again.

Whispers probably.

Good.

Let them whisper.

Let them finally start realizing this woman wasn’t some misunderstood politician.

She was dangerous.

Hargrove finally leaned back again slowly.

“You’re bluffing.”

“No,” I answered immediately. “Actually I’m being generous.”

That got her attention fully again.

I opened the file once more before sliding several photographs across the table.

Detective Calder.

Avery Quinneth.

Financial transfers.

Deleted database logs.

The hotel crime scene.

Drew Pierce’s case file.

And finally…

Ashcroft Housing Initiative permit delays.

Hargrove’s eyes lowered briefly toward the photos.

I leaned forward slightly.

“Now,” I said evenly, “do you want to start from the beginning?”

Silence.

“Or,” I continued quietly, “should I just put the pieces together myself?”

The room felt heavier suddenly.

Not emotionally.

Strategically.

Because this was the moment.

The shift.

The exact second people realized the FBI wasn’t here asking politely anymore.

We already knew enough.

Now we were measuring how much damage she’d actually done.

Hargrove stayed silent for another long moment while staring down at the photographs spread across the metal table.

Every single piece slowly connecting together into something uglier than most of this department probably wanted to admit.

Then finally she lifted her eyes back toward me. “I want my phone call.”

Beside me, Locke immediately pushed himself off the wall before reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Of course,” he said evenly.

He pulled out his personal cellphone before placing it onto the table in front of her.

“Wouldn’t want to deprive anyone of their rights.”

Hargrove’s eyes flicked briefly toward him.

Measuring.

Calculating.

Then finally she reached for the phone.

Only the slightest hesitation before dialing.

I stayed completely still while the call rang.

Behind the two-way mirror, the station remained eerily quiet now.

Everybody listening.

Good.

Hargrove finally spoke once somebody answered. “I need representation immediately.”

Gone was the polished public voice. This tone was colder. Sharper. More controlled.

“Yes,” she continued calmly. “Federal custody.” A pause, “No. Asher is unavailable.”

That one almost made me smile.

Locke stayed motionless beside me while Hargrove continued speaking quietly into the phone.

“I need someone here now before further questioning proceeds.”

Another pause.

“No,” she said colder now. “Do not discuss this over the phone.”

The call disconnected a second later.

Hargrove lowered the phone slowly before sliding it back across the table toward Locke.

Locke picked up the phone carefully before stepping back beside me again.

I slowly started gathering the photographs and files back into the federal case folder while maintaining eye contact with her the entire time.

No rush.

No emotion.

Just pressure.

“You’ll have your attorney,” I said evenly while closing the file.

Hargrove didn’t respond.

I stood slowly from the metal chair before motioning lightly toward the door. “Agent Locke and I will wait until counsel arrives before continuing this conversation.”

Still no response. But her fingers tightened once against the edge of the table.

Locke opened the interrogation room door while I stepped out first.

The second the door shut behind us... The observation room door opened almost immediately.

Several officers filed out quickly afterward.

Too quickly. Curious. Nervous. Defensive.

I leaned casually against the wall directly beside the interrogation room door while crossing my arms loosely over my chest.

Not moving.

Because now?

Now came the important part. Watching who still tried to protect her.

The officers avoided looking directly at me at first while filtering slowly back toward the bullpen.

Some looked uncomfortable. Some looked angry. Some looked confused.

Good.

Confusion meant the illusion was finally cracking.

One older detective paused near the hallway corner before finally speaking carefully. “You really think she did all this?”

I looked at him evenly. “I think she did worse.”