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She gave him another little push, and he stumbled towards her car.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The flickering fluorescent light in the interrogation room cast a sallow hue on everything it touched. Rachel leaned against the cold metal table, her stance mirroring the unyielding nature of the reservation's police station around her. She fixed Walter Boyd with a steady gaze that had seen too many like him, her eyes the only vibrant color in the sterile grey box of a room.
"Talk to me about Anna Longshadow," she said, her voice as taut as the silence that followed.
Walter shifted in his chair, the scrape of metal legs on concrete echoing like a distant gunshot. "Anna?" he scoffed, avoiding Rachel's eyes. "This again? I've told you--never met this lady."
Rachel crossed her arms, the leather of her jacket creaking softly. "Don't play coy, Walter. Otherwise, I'll call those other deputies back in here. The ones you took a shot at."
"Hey--hey! I shot to miss!" he said hurriedly. "They were bad news. Reservation assholes. No jurisdiction. I know my rights." He glared at her, his voice laced with a sneer.
"We know there was a meeting planned," she said."
He laughed, a hollow sound, and ran a hand across his whiskered jaw. "Sure, we had plans. But not the kind you're fishing for."
"Then enlighten me."
"Let's just say... she offers services. Services a lonely man might take up on." His smirk was oily, sliding through the room and leaving a residue Rachel wished she could scrub off.
Ethan shot Rachel a look. They already knew about Anna's career path, but sometimes, misdirection could provide unique insight. Sometimes, allowing a suspect to think they had the upper hand went a long way into getting them to talk.
"Prostitution?" Rachel's brow creased, doubt coloring her tone. "That's a serious accusation to make without proof. And a convenient one at that."
"Proof?" Walter chuckled, a low rumble in his throat. "Come on, Ranger Blackwood. It's not exactly a secret what Anna does to fill her pockets."
"Yet it's a secret you've kept until now," Rachel shot back, though she held her ground. "You said you didn't know her."
"Yeah, well... let's just say she wasn't the only one with secrets," Walter said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Rachel leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated for a moment before continuing, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "Look, I didn't know her personally, but I knew of her... reputation. She was involved with some dangerous people."
"Who?" Rachel pressed, her voice steady but filled with curiosity.
"I can't say," he replied, his voice laced with something like fear, or perhaps just pretense. "But let's just say they're not the kind of folks you want to mess with."
"Why were you meeting with her then?" Ethan interjected, his voice cutting through the tension.
Walter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sweat beading on his forehead. "I... like I said, I just wanted some fun. That's all."
She studied him, the way his eyes darted away, how the lie seemed to sit uncomfortably on his tongue, like something borrowed and ill-fitting. Memories of her own upbringing whispered to her, cautioning her to stay vigilant, that truths were often dressed in the cloak of lies, especially in these lands where trust was as scarce as rain.
"Is that your story then?" she asked, her voice a scalpel cutting to the heart of the matter. "You wanted to meet with Anna for... companionship?"
"Exactly." Walter's nod was emphatic, but his eyes—a touch too fast, a shade too desperate—betrayed him.
"Companionship," Rachel echoed, letting the word hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Her mind wove through the possibilities, but she remained outwardly impassive—the stoic Texas Ranger, unfazed by the sordid details.
The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting stark shadows across the table where they sat. Walter Boyd's hands were clasped tight, the knuckles white, betraying an inner tension his casual demeanor tried to dismiss. Rachel leaned back in her chair, the steel frame creaking under the shift of her weight, her gaze never leaving his face.
"Your story has holes, Boyd," she said, her voice low and steady. "That doesn't track with what we've heard."
Walter's Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. "People talk. They make things up."
"Smuggling, Walter," Rachel pushed, watching his reaction closely. "Anna was discussing smuggling on the phone call with you, not turning tricks. Why would that be?"
