See what he has in store for you

Quite, you head to the main lobby of the police station. In most movies, it would be stormy outside when someone important died and the main character is waking straight to a dark fate. But today warm sun is shining through the window.

The main Lobby is warm too. Not a run down, grey office with bad-tempered administrative employees. A friendly area with a wooden reception desk, some healthy pot plants and a comfy looking red couch for waiting. Name is that some local politician donated some money to renovate the police station just a few weeks ago. A pure prestige project, no doubt, but it looks nice.

You don’t have to search long for the lawyer. He is actually arguing with the employees at the reception desk. His hair is already grey and he wears an expensive looking suit. His face looks like he rarely smiles.

“I have enough of this shit,” the lawyer says angry, “I want to speak to my client immediately.”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the girl on the reception desk says sweet but obviously annoyed, “but I have no entry here about a lawyer called by a girl with the name Ashley.”

“I get paid to protect the rights of my client,” the lawyer almost yells angry, “if you dare to question her without me or deny her right to call me, I will sue all of you. Did I made myself clear?”

“I heard my name,” you interrupt, “I’m Ashley. Who are you, sir?”

“Ashley Pike?” the lawyer asks surprised, “I was sent by your father to assist you in the questioning of the police. My condolence to your loss.”

“Thanks, but there has to be a mistake,” you say, “neither was I arrested, nor did I called for a lawyer. And I don’t even know my father.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” the lawyer says and gives you faked smile, “he knows you. And wants to meet you. We can talk about this once we are done. So, where is the questioning taking place? In Decetive Jacksons office I guess.”

“The questioning is over,” you inform the lawyer, “the police will call me when they find something. Or someone.”

“What?” the lawyer asks suddenly very angry, “they questioned you without your legal counsel? Who did this? Jackson wouldn’t have done such a thing. He knows his place. The FBI. I saw their car. Miss, did the Agents of the FBI questioned you?”

“Well, yes, they did,” you answer a little irritated, “they waited for me in the office of the detective after I came back from the bathroom.”

“These fucking bastards,” the lawyer curses angry, “what did they wanted to know? They are not interested in a doctor’s ****. Did they asked you questions about your father?”

You hesitate for a moment. The sudden aggressiveness stunned you. Even the girl at the reception desk looks frightened. What and how you answer will have an impact on the trust of your Father and the FBI.