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Carlos hesitated, swallowed once. "Oh... Anna? Yeah... yeah, I mean, maybe... A lot of girls work for me."
Ethan was still glaring, but Rachel spoke before he could start berating their suspect again. "Anna Longshadow is dead," she said simply.
She stated it bluntly, without sugar-coating, wanting to see his reaction.
The killer wouldn't be surprised.
But for now, if Carlos was innocent, then there was a chance he didn't know what had happened to Anna.
And as she said it, she watched his face shift.
One moment, he'd been cocky, angry and contemptuous.
But after this declaration, he went still, staring at them.
He frowned briefly.
"Bullshit," he said.
"She's dead," Ethan repeated. "Why would we lie?"
"Pigs lie."
In response, Rachel pulled out a photo on her phone of the crime scene. She slid it across the table so Carlos could see. He stared down, mesmerized, and looking shocked.
"Shit... she's... really?" he swallowed.
She was surprised at how flustered he sounded. He stared at the image on the table.
The crime scene photo depicted Anna's lifeless body, her once vibrant eyes now dull and vacant, a haunting reminder of the brutality she had endured. Rachel watched Carlos closely, searching for any hint of remorse or guilt in his reaction. But all she saw was a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"You think I did this?" Carlos finally managed to choke out, his voice trembling. "I never laid a hand on her! I swear!"
Rachel raised an eyebrow, skeptical of Carlos's sudden change in demeanor. "Then why is your name tied to her, Carlos? Why were you paying her?"
Carlos shook his head frantically, his eyes pleading for understanding. He stammered, his face turning red now. He looked genuinely confused.
Rachel hesitated, trying to gauge if this was just another ploy.
She exchanged a glance with Ethan, both of them silently considering Carlos' odd shift in attitude.
Neither of them spoke. Sometimes, the best thing an investigator could do was to maintain their silence and allow the suspect to cast their own rope.
Carlos's jaw worked as if grinding the truth into digestible bits. His hands, cuffed to the chair, clenched and unclenched. Then, with the suddenness of a dam breach, his composure shattered.
"Anna..." he choked out, the name carrying the weight of a eulogy. Tears welled up, carving wet trails through the grime on his cheeks. "She wasn't supposed to be—"
Anna blinked in stunned surprise.
Was the pimp... crying?
"Supposed to be what, Carlos?" Ethan prodded, leaning forward, his elbows braced on knees where he now sat in the second chair, eyes unblinking.
"Not like this," Carlos gasped between sobs, his body convulsing with each ragged breath. "She was... she had dreams, man. Dreams!"
Rachel leaned back in her chair, her curiosity piqued by Carlos's unexpected vulnerability. She had seen many criminals break down under pressure, but this felt different. There was a genuine anguish in his voice, a rawness that hinted at something deeper.
"What dreams did she have?" Rachel asked softly, her tone gentle yet probing. She needed Carlos to trust her, to reveal the truth buried within him.
