A Motive to Kill (Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thriller Book 22) by Elle Gray

Author:Elle Gray [Gray, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elle Gray
Published: 2024-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Tellman Building 2, Channel Four News, Downtown District; Atlanta, GA

I glance at my watch and sigh. “We’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes.”

“It’s a power play,” Astra says with a grin. “You’ve done the same thing to people more times than I can count.”

I look at the plush office around us and frown. He’s got a sitting area with a couch and loveseat separated by a glass and stainless-steel coffee table between them. The shelves in a pair of mahogany bookcases are lined with his many plaques and awards, and the desk sitting in front of us, like the coffee table, is glass and stainless steel and thoroughly modern in design.

All the furniture is high-end, name-brand stuff that’s been expertly curated and placed. No doubt he has a professional interior decorator who made more from doing this job than I make in a year. As Channel Four’s leading man, though, his office befits his status.

“Yeah, but I’m sick of waiting. We need answers now.”

“You don’t really think we’re going to get answers, do you?”

“I choose to be optimistic.”

The door in the wall behind and to the right of the desk in front of us opens, and Trent Langford walks in. He drops into the chair behind his desk and favors us with a well-practiced, thousand-watt smile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says.

“It’s no problem,” I reply, earning a sidelong glance from Astra. “I’m Unit Chief Wilder and this is SSA Russo, Mr. Langford.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, obviously unimpressed with us. “And please, call me Trent.”

Trent Langford has been the face of news in Atlanta for the last twenty-five years. With perfectly coiffed hair so blond it’s almost white, cerulean blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline, he’s got leading-man good looks. People say he’s charming and trustworthy, but the way he leers at us behind a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes, I’d be more likely to describe him as greasy and used car salesman-esque.

“So, what can I do for the FBI?” he asks.

“We understand that you broke the story that led to the standoff with Devin Knapp,” I say.

He nods. “I did.”

“We need to know who your source on that story was,” I say.

He laughs softly. “That can’t be a serious request.”

“It is,” I reply.

“You know I can’t give that to you.”

“Mr. Langford, your source was wrong. Devin Knapp was not the club shooter,” Astra tells him. “We need to know who fed you that story because we believe it was planted to provide cover for people actually involved with the incident.”

“Did you bother vetting the tip before you rushed to get on the air, Mr. Langford?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to reply but hesitates and then the words seem to fall away. Instead, Langford leans back in his chair, silent, and steeples his fingers, his jaw clenched, his face troubled. But I doubt he’s worried about the fact that he reported a bogus story. I think it’s more likely he’s worried about

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