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Carlos wiped his tears with the back of his hand, his expression a mix of sorrow and regret. "She wanted to be... an actress," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "She had talent, you know? I saw it in her when she first started working for me."
Rachel furrowed her brow, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle. An actress caught up in the dangerous world of prostitution seemed like an unlikely combination. But stranger things had happened.
"Were you seeing here in some other capacity?" Rachel said suddenly. "Were you sleeping with her?"
Carlos stared at her. "It wasn't like that!" he snapped. "I'm a businessman. Not a rapist."
"That's not what I asked."
He looked angry now, and he reached up with cuffed hands, trying to wipe at his eyes. "We were... she was something... we spent a couple nights together!" he said suddenly. "SHe wanted to! It was her idea."
Ethan just frowned, and he didn't look convinced.
But his emotional outburst suggested that there had been feelings involved. Even if once-sided. Rachel didn't know.
"Talk to us about the murders, Carlos," Ethan persisted, his tone sharpening like a blade honing in on its mark. "What do you know?"
"Nothing, I swear!" Carlos exclaimed, his eyes pleading for belief. "I keep my business clean—no heat, no trouble!"
"Clean?" Ethan's voice cut through his defense, sharp and cold as ice shards. "Is that why Anna's gone? Because everything was so 'clean'?"
"Look at me, Carlos," Rachel said suddenly, her gaze locking onto his with the ferocity of a vice grip. "If you cared about her, you owe her this much. Tell us everything."
He slumped, defeated, his resistance crumbling to dust under the weight of their scrutiny. "I... I didn't see her after Tuesday." He swallowed hard, the sound like gravel being crushed underfoot. "She said she had a new client. Some big shot rolling into town."
"Did she say who?" Ethan asked, a note of urgency threading through his words.
"Didn't have his name for me… at least, said she didn’t yet. Was gonna get paid first, then cut me in," Carlos muttered, his voice barely audible. "Said she was gonna make things right. Start fresh."
Rachel studied him, searching the planes of his grief-stricken face for any hint of deceit or evasion. Her mind raced, sifting through facts and possibilities, piecing together the fragmented silhouette of a killer.
Carlos's head drooped, his body a vessel of defeat and sorrow, every heave of his chest another crack in the façade of the hardened criminal they'd expected to find. But Rachel knew better than to let empathy cloud her judgment. She pressed on, relentless as the ticking clock on the wall, knowing that time was an enemy they couldn't afford to court.
The interrogation room was a stark canvas of grays and whites, the only adornments a steel table bolted to the floor and three chairs that looked as uncomfortable as they felt. The fluorescent light above buzzed like a trapped fly, throwing harsh shadows across Carlos's face as he slumped in his seat, cuffed hands resting on the cold metal surface.
"Carlos," Rachel started, fixing him with an unyielding gaze, "where were you the past two days?"
"Meetings," he replied, his voice a dry rasp, eyes not meeting hers. "With my parole officer."
"Times?" Ethan asked, leaning forward, his demeanor all business.
"Off and on," Carlos said, shifting in his chair. "Whole damn day, both days."
Rachel's mind ticked over this new information. Parole meetings. Could be solid. Or convenient. She glanced at Ethan, catching a flicker of skepticism in his eyes, mirroring her own doubts.
"Names," she demanded. "Who can corroborate this?"
"Officer Perez... and there's a log. They keep logs," Carlos answered, frustration seeping into his tone.
"Convenient," Ethan muttered, almost to himself, as he scribbled notes in his pad.
"Very," Rachel agreed silently. Her thoughts churned. Alibis could be fabricated, officers coerced. Nothing was beyond the realm of possibility in their line of work.
"Where are these meetings held?" Rachel pressed, probing for a crack in his story.
"Community center. East side," Carlos said, licking his chapped lips. "Ask anyone there."
"Anyone, huh?" Ethan echoed, tapping his pen against the notepad. "Nice public place. Lots of eyes."
