The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 196

**Agent Naomi Bennett**

The waiting was the worst part. Not because I was impatient, but because police stations became dangerous when people had too much time to think.

Especially corrupt ones.

Then finally, roughly an hour later, a man appeared walking down the hallway towards us, carrying a leather briefcase.

Tall. Gray-haired. Expensive suit. Professional posture.

Not nervous. Good lawyers rarely were.

He spotted me immediately before approaching calmly. “Agent Bennett,” he greeted smoothly.

I straightened slightly from the wall. “And you are?”

“Richard Blanche.”

Very polished name for a very polished man.

He extended his hand politely.

I ignored it.

That didn’t bother him at all.

“I’ve been retained as Councilwoman Hargrove’s representation,” he explained evenly.

“Congratulations.”

Locke nearly choked on his coffee beside me.

Richard Blanche smiled faintly like he appreciated the sarcasm. “I’d like to speak privately with my client.”

I studied him quietly for a second.

Then nodded once toward the interrogation room. “You’ve got an hour.”

He inclined his head slightly before disappearing inside. The door shut behind him softly.

And then the waiting started all over again.

Locke finally looked over toward me once the hallway quieted again. “You think she flips?”

“Yes.” That answer came immediately.

Not because Hargrove suddenly grew a conscience.

Because Asher West ran. That changed everything.

People like Evelyn Hargrove could tolerate prison. What they couldn’t tolerate? Being abandoned.

Especially by somebody they sacrificed everything for.

Locke sighed heavily before rubbing one hand over his jaw. “You think West’s still in the city?”

“No.”

“You think he runs international?”

“Probably.”

An hour and seven minutes later, the interrogation room door finally opened again.

Richard Blanche stepped back into the hallway calmly while adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket.

Interesting expression. Not victorious. Measured.

“She’s ready to cooperate.”

Locke immediately straightened beside me.

I stayed still. “Under what conditions?”

Richard’s eyes met mine evenly. “She wants life off the table.”

Silence settled instantly across the hallway.

Locke slowly looked toward me. I looked toward him.

I exhaled quietly before pushing myself off the wall. “The best I can probably do,” I answered evenly, “is fifteen to twenty years.”

Richard remained silent.

Good.

Because I wasn’t finished.

“She may not have killed them herself,” I continued calmly, “but people still died because of her.”

The silence stretched another second before Richard finally nodded once. “I’ll relay that.”

I moved first toward the interrogation room while Locke followed beside me.

The atmosphere inside had changed completely when we walked back in. Hargrove no longer looked calm. Controlled still. But tired now.

Richard sat beside her now with legal paperwork spread neatly across the metal table while Hargrove herself remained seated with her cuffed hands folded loosely together.

Waiting.

I took my seat slowly across from her again. Locke remained near the wall.

The room settled into silence.

Then finally Hargrove looked directly at me. “What do you want to know?”

I leaned back slightly in the metal chair while studying her carefully.

I already knew enough to bury her.

What mattered now was understanding the shape of the corruption itself.

How far it spread.

Who willingly participated.

Who got manipulated.

And whether this city could survive what came next.

So finally I answered honestly. “I want to know how deep it went.”

Hargrove stayed silent.

Good.

“I want to know who willingly participated and who got manipulated.” I folded my hands together loosely on the table. “I want to know how many people Calder hurt that you knew about.”

The room felt colder suddenly.

“And,” I continued quietly, “I want to know what you actually wanted out of all this. And I want to know why Rowan Ashcroft?"

Her eyes lifted back toward mine immediately.

I leaned slightly forward now. “Why him?”

Silence. Heavy. Sharp.

Then finally Evelyn Hargrove laughed softly under her breath. Not humor. Disbelief.

“You really don’t understand people like him, do you?”

I stayed completely still across from her. “Then explain it to me.”

Her eyes held mine for another long moment before she finally leaned back slightly in the metal chair. “You asked how deep it went?”

I nodded once.

Hargrove smiled faintly. “Deeper than you’re probably comfortable with.”

She glanced briefly toward the two-way mirror before continuing calmly.

“Most of the officers in this building aren’t corrupt.” Her expression barely shifted. “They’re tired.”

That caught my attention immediately.

“Tired officers are easy to manipulate,” she continued smoothly. “Overworked officers are easy to control.” A slight shrug. “You give them better equipment. Better funding. Better patrol cars.” Her eyes darkened slightly. “And eventually they stop asking questions.”

Jesus Christ.

That was worse somehow.

“Calder?” I asked evenly.

That tiny smile returned again. “He was useful.”

The coldness in her voice made the room feel smaller instantly. Not emotional. Not regretful. Just factual.

“Violence follows men like him naturally,” Hargrove continued quietly. “I didn’t create that part of him.” Another pause. “I simply gave it direction.”

Beside me, I could feel Locke straighten slightly against the wall.

“How many people?” I asked quietly.

Hargrove tilted her head slightly.

“How many what?”

“How many people did he hurt that you knew about?”

This time the silence stretched longer.

Not because she felt guilty. Because she was counting.

Oh my God.

Finally, “More than I probably should admit out loud.”

I stared at her for another second before speaking again.

“And the people who helped willingly?”

Hargrove laughed softly again.

“Most people help willingly eventually.”

That answer irritated me instantly.

“You’d be surprised what fear does to people,” she continued calmly. “And ambition.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward Richard Blanche beside her. “And money.” Another pause. “People convince themselves they’re surviving.”

Not untrue.

That was the worst part.

Corruption rarely started with cartoon villains. It started with compromise. One small compromise at a time.

I folded my hands together more tightly on the table. “And what exactly were you trying to accomplish?”

For the first time since this conversation started… Something emotional flickered across her face.

Not sadness. Resentment.

Interesting.

“You think cities survive on hope?” she asked quietly.

I didn’t answer. I wanted to hear this.

Wanted to understand how somebody ended up like this.

Hargrove leaned back farther now. “People don’t vote when things are comfortable.” Her voice remained calm. “They vote when they’re scared.” Another pause. “They vote when crime rises. When businesses leave. When drugs spread.” Her expression hardened slightly. “Fear creates dependency.”