The Chivalrous -Pilot Episode 28-

Scene 11

Interrogation Room, O.S.I Headquarters, Quantico, VA, 5:03 am

Relaxed and confident, Commanding Officer Whitley Perkins sat content in the intimidating, box-like Interrogation Room. The Commanding Officer could overlook the ghastly overused dark grey paint that colored the walls; it made the interrogated feel cornered, like a mouse with nowhere to run from a prowling feline. Whitley could also excuse the blinding lights that hung over the black, plastic interrogation table; they were there to make him feel anxious, fidgety, and agitated. But the metal, fold-up chair? Now, that he could not justify. It was just plain cruel, even for a bad dog. That was, of course, how they thought of him. He was a bad dog that chewed up his owner's favorite pair of shoes and he waited in his cage until they were ready to inflict his punishment. Whitley had figured, on the drive over to O.S.I, that if excuses couldn't get him out of this sticky situation then his charm just had too. With that thought in mind, he was ready to play a game... a really fun game.

Whitley chuckled to himself while he stared at his dual image in the one-sided window set on the opposing wall. His thoughts were intrigued as to who was standing on the other side of that window. He wondered if the Italian, who had admired his military medal collection, was watching him or if it was that other fed that was behind the glass, the one with a gentle voice and great legs. Whitley slouched and thought about just how great those legs were.

Interrupting his thoughts with little warning, the interrogation door swung open. Whitley was pleased to see that the latter agent had come to interrogate him; the one with the great legs, which he admired as she walked over to greet him.

"Commanding Officer Perkins. Thank you so much for coming down so early this morning." Her kind greeting provoked a nicer reply then the word he had been memorizing, so he played along; intrigued as to how it would all pan out.

"Agent Scotts. Not a problem." Whitley stood up to shake her hand before taking his seat again.

"We just had a few questions for you about another officer under your watch."

The we part caught Whitley a little off guard. He hadn't noticed the heavy-built, African American agent who stood silently next to the door. He must have come in behind Scotts while Whitley was admiring her legs.

The C.O let Scotts settle into her cushioned chair before he asked the thought-provoking question, "Which officer?"

Scotts placed a cream-colored, personnel file on the table's plastic surface, and slid it into Whitley's open hands.

Opening the file he masked his excitement with surprise. "Grace Kennedy?"

Scotts confirmed with a nod as Whitley thought for a moment.

It actually made sense. They must have discovered that Grace was Hannah's co-pilot and closest friend back in Atlanta, which made her a suspect. A very good suspect. If this was the only way to get out of this, Whitley was prepared to take it. He knew full-well that Grace -if given the opportunity would do the same.

With a sigh, he continued, "What do you want to know?" He pretended to sound a little hesitant; he didn't want to seem too eager to give up the dirt.

"Were you aware of the friendship between Joyce and Kennedy?" Scotts took back the personnel file and heartedly began.

"Yes. I assumed it was public knowledge. Was it not?" His question came after he saw her glance at the other agent. He didn't want it to seem like he meant to withhold information from them.

"It probably was, but she never mentioned it." Agent Scotts' fingers toyed with a silver airplane necklace draped around her thin, long neck. "Did you see anything strange in their friendship?"