Ballots and Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t think so,” said her attorney, leveling his gaze at Browne. “That hasn’t come up in our discussions in preparing for this interview.”
    â€œNot at this time,” answered Mahoney. “Right now we’re interested in your relationship with Senator Miller.”
    â€œHow physical were these sessions? Did you inflict pain?” asked Browne.
    â€œYes. He wanted that more and more. But I never hurt him.” She looked directly into Browne’s eyes. “I never hurt one of my clients, and I never would.”
    â€œTell us what happened this past Wednesday.”
    â€œHe came for a previously scheduled session. He changed. We role-played. I put him in restraints. . . . He liked that. I did the usual stuff.”
    â€œCan you be more specific?”
    Abica dropped her eyes. “I whipped him. I spanked him. After the session was over, I cleaned up, and he went into the dressing room to change back into his suit. I left because I was meeting a friend for a drink. That’s the last time I saw him.”
    â€œWas it normal for you to leave the apartment before a client departed?”
    â€œNo. But he was a longtime client, he knew how to let himself out, and I was running late.”
    Mahoney leaned forward. “One question: did you and Senator Miller ever play asphyxiation games in which he was temporarily deprived of oxygen?”
    â€œNo. We did plenty of other stuff but not that.”
    â€œDid you ever play asphyxiation games with other clients?”
    Abica lowered her eyes, averting Mahoney’s penetrating gaze. “Yes.”
    â€œHow often?”
    â€œNot a lot. Maybe a half dozen times. It’s not my thing really. But if a client wanted it done, I did it.” Her eyes teared up. “I did a lot of things that made me sick. I could tell you things that would make you want to throw up. It’s not glamorous work, you know.”
    Browne resumed his line of questioning. “So the last time you saw Senator Miller, he was doing exactly what?”
    â€œHe was stepping into the changing room and I told him he could let himself out when he was done. I knew there were no more sessions scheduled at that location for the rest of the day. So I went up the stairs and left the townhouse.”
    â€œDo you remember what time that was?”
    â€œIt was twenty after six. I was meeting my friend for a drink at 6:30 p.m. I was worried I’d be late, which is why I remember.”
    â€œAs you left the building, did you encounter anyone who could place you there at that time?” asked Browne. “A street vendor, a parking garage attendant, someone like that?”
    â€œNo,” said Amber morosely. “I didn’t drive so there’s no parking garage. I took the Metro.”
    The prosecutor made more notes. “Metro security cameras might have captured her going through the turnstiles,” said Abica’s attorney helpfully.
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Browne dismissively. “We know how to conduct investigations. Just make sure your client answers the questions honestly.” He turned back to Abica. “Did you see anything or anyone out of the ordinary as you left the townhouse?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œSomeone who might have been following Senator Miller or you.”
    â€œNot that I noticed.”
    â€œWhat was the name of the person you met for drinks?” asked the prosecutor.
    â€œDaniel Blatt. He’s a friend from law school.”
    â€œWe’ll want his contact information.”
    â€œOf course,” said Abica’s attorney. “We can get you that.”
    â€œAlright, let’s take a brief break. Ms. Abica, you’re welcome to use the restroom or grab something to drink if you want,” said Browne. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    They left the room and walked down the hall in a single file to Browne’s office. Closing the door