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"Exactly," Carlos replied, his voice gaining an edge. "I'm trying to keep clean. You think I don't know how this looks?"
"Looks can be deceiving," Rachel thought, her instincts gnawing at her. This was either a man clinging desperately to a scrap of truth or one hell of a performance. It was their job to untangle which.
"Any receipts, bus tickets, something tangible from these two days?" Rachel asked, leaning in closer, hoping to catch a flinch, a darting eye, anything.
"Got a bus pass," Carlos said after a pause. "And the center's got cameras."
"Good," Ethan said, standing up abruptly. "We'll check those out."
"Yeah, you better," Carlos retorted.
Rachel watched him closely, reading the lines of fatigue etched deep into his skin, the slight tremor in his cuffed hands. He was either a seasoned liar or a man worn down by his own reality.
"Stay put," Rachel ordered, though it was unnecessary. Where would he go?
Rachel paced like a caged animal, her boots scuffing against the linoleum floor. She stopped and faced Carlos, her eyes narrowing.
"Your alibi might hold up for now," she began, voice steely, "but there's more to this story. We need to talk to your girls."
Carlos shifted in his chair, the metal cuffs clinking softly. "They don't know nothin'," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
"Let us be the judges of that," Ethan interjected from the corner where he leaned, arms crossed over his chest.
Rachel stepped closer, her shadow merging with Carlos's on the table. "They were close to Anna. They might have seen something, heard something. It's important, Carlos."
"Leave them out of it." His voice found a sudden strength. "They're just trying to get by, same as anybody."
"Someone is dead, Carlos." Rachel's words cut through the tension. "If you care about your girls, you'll want justice for Anna as much as we do."
Carlos's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Rachel held his stare, unblinking, waiting. The clock on the wall ticked away seconds, each one a hammer strike to the quiet.
"Alright," he finally exhaled, sagging in his seat. "I'll set something up. But you gotta promise they won't get dragged into the mud."
"Only interested in the truth," Rachel assured him, though her mind raced with the possibilities of what the women might reveal. She exchanged a quick, sharp glance with Ethan, who gave a subtle nod.
"Thank you," she said, backing away. "This could help clear things up."
"Or make 'em worse," Carlos added under his breath, but Rachel was already turning, thoughts churning with what lay ahead. She felt the weight of anticipation heavy on her shoulders.
"Let's hope not," Ethan said, following Rachel out the door, leaving behind the faint echo of their steps and the lingering sense of unease that clung to the cold air.
The door shut with a definitive click behind them, the sound somehow final in the sparseness of the hallway. Rachel's fingers hovered on the cool metal knob for a moment longer than necessary, releasing it slowly as if letting go of a lifeline. She could feel Ethan's presence at her back, a silent pillar of support amidst the unsettling quiet that seeped through the walls of the reservation sheriff's office.
"Think he'll come through?" Ethan's voice was low, barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to carry and ricochet off the narrow corridor's bare surfaces.
"Has to," Rachel murmured, more to herself than to him. Her gaze drifted back towards the interrogation room, its door now a barrier to the man who held pieces of their puzzle. "He knows we're not playing games."
They walked side by side, footsteps in sync, the rhythm a counterpoint to the racing of Rachel's thoughts. The anticipation for the meeting with Carlos' prostitutes was a growing ember, threatening to ignite into a blaze of revelation or disappointment.
"Carlos is a piece of work," Rachel said. "But those girls... they could be our best shot at getting to the heart of this."
"Or they could be scared silent," Ethan said.
"Scared, maybe. And I get the feeling that Carlos knows it. You think you can run down his alibi at the center, and I'll follow up on making an arranged meeting with the girls?"
"Let's just hope they're willing to talk."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
