"I don’t know where he went." Samuel’s patience was wearing thin. "I already told you that I do not make a habit of looking into my tenants. What else do you want from me? If you are investigating the contraband, then find Barrow. He is the man you are looking for, not me. Why am I being dragged into this?"
He looked from one man to the next, as though challenging any of them to dispute what he had said.
Draven’s face remained calm, unruffled by any of it. "Watch your tone when you speak to me, Mr. Laci."
Samuel snapped his mouth shut.
"I advise you to cooperate. This investigation is not simply about determining whether you committed a crime." Draven continued, his voice still controlled. "It is also an opportunity for you to clear your name. If you have nothing to do with the smuggling, then your cooperation will help establish that."
Samuel kept his arms folded across his chest, his stubbornness becoming yet another mark against him.
"Otherwise, your name will remain attached to this investigation and the crime. That is hardly ideal for a man in your position." Draven paused before adding, "And if you need further encouragement to cooperate, there is something else you should know. As we speak, watch officers are at your residence. They have authorization from the magistrate to search the property for evidence connecting you to the smuggling operation. Your study will be searched. Your ledgers and business records will be confiscated for examination. Any correspondence or documents that appear relevant will be taken as well."
For the first time since entering the office, Draven grinned. There was nothing friendly about it.
Laci might still have been under the illusion that this was a matter he could talk his way out of, but Draven intended to rid him of those delusions.
He continued in the same calm tone, as though discussing something as mundane as the weather. "So when you return home, Mr. Laci, you may find that your records are no longer where you left them."
Panic seized Samuel.
If they searched his ledgers and went through the stacks of correspondence in his study, he was finished. Everything his family owned could be taken from them, and he could find himself standing before the gallows.
"What is the meaning of this?" His earlier assessment of the duke had been correct. His Grace was indeed a cold-eyed devil, and Samuel had the distinct impression that he had no intention of letting him walk away unscathed.
"You know precisely what it means."
"You have no reason to investigate me like this."
"Don’t I?" Draven turned toward the stern-faced man standing nearby. "This is the constable overseeing the investigation. If you refuse to cooperate, he will ensure your reluctance is properly recorded and presented to the magistrate."
Draven looked back at Samuel. "So I will ask you again. What can you tell me about Tim Barrow?"
Annoyed that he had been outmaneuvered yet again, Samuel proved himself to be one of the most obstinate men Draven had ever had the displeasure of dealing with.
Just like that, the endless back and forth began.
"He is gone."
"Where?"
"I don’t know."
"Where is he originally from?"
"I couldn’t tell you."
"Where did he say he conducted his business?"
"I never bothered to ask."
"What does he look like? His height, hair color, age. What can you remember?"
Samuel shook his head. "I barely knew the man. I could pass him on the street and I wouldn’t know him."
On and on it went, question after question, useless answer after useless answer. Whether it was deliberate obstinacy or sheer stupidity, the insolent man seemed determined to make the interrogation as difficult as possible.
Draven was not the only one growing irritated. Neville looked as though he was beginning to lose patience as well. He looked ready to throttle the man.
He shared a look with the constable, silent conversation passing between them.
If they intended to get anything useful from Samuel, they would have to change their approach. The man had made it clear that threats of legal consequences alone were not enough to make him cooperative.
Draven stepped away from him. A dangerous glint flashed across his eyes.
It disappeared almost as quickly as it came, leaving his expression once again impossible to read.
He was a predator on the prowl.
Draven slowly rounded Samuel’s chair, circling him like a shark testing the waters around its prey. Once. Twice. Three times. Each pass seemed to chafe at Samuel’s senses.
The man might have proved difficult to corner, but he was still prey.
"Or perhaps the reason you are reluctant to tell us anything about this man is because he does not exist."
"What?" Samuel frowned. The interrogation was slipping beyond his control, and he scrambled to pull the conversation back in his favor.
There was little hope of that. He had never been in control of it. From the moment Draven began questioning him, the duke had dictated the direction of the conversation, and he had no intention of giving that control back.
Draven went on like Samuel had never spoken. "It would explain your reluctance. A fictitious tenant would make an excellent addition to your story if you were ever caught. A convenient tenant. A convenient lease. A convenient disappearance once the warehouse was compromised. Quite an ingenious arrangement, Mr. Laci. A false identity creates distance between the owner and the contraband while allowing the true owner to continue using the property for whatever purpose he pleases."
Draven had never seen a man’s face turn such an unflattering shade of red so quickly.
"What exactly are you insinuating, Your Grace?" Samuel asked through gritted teeth, twisting in his chair so he could keep Draven in sight. "Unless you have proof against me, I suggest you refrain from making such accusations. I am not a smuggler."
"Then prove it." The words were simple and left Samuel nowhere to hide. "If you cannot, I have every reason to believe that you and Tim Barrow are one and the same."
"That is absurd." Samuel’s hands curled into fists. No doubt he was imagining what those fists would feel like against Draven’s face.
Draven almost hoped he would try.
"Is it?"
"Yes." Samuel shot to his feet, losing the battle with his temper. "Of course Tim Barrow is a real person!"
His voice rang through the room. The moment the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize his mistake.
Draven fixed him with a stare so cold it could have frozen the blood in his veins.