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"Could be any reason," Walter retorted, his tone a notch too cavalier. "You know how it is around here. Everyone's got an angle."
Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly. The room felt smaller, the air between them charged as if with electricity. Her mind ticked, thoughts sharp and quick like the snap of a whip. She knew when someone was stalling, buying time. Walter was textbook.
"Angles," she repeated, tasting the word. It was vague, evasive—an attempt to blur lines, muddy waters.
At that moment, Ethan stepped forward, his presence silent but palpable. He placed a single printout on the table—a splash of ink against the sterile white surface—next to Walter's twitching hands.
"Found something interesting in your bank records, Boyd," Ethan said, his voice devoid of triumph. Just facts laid bare. "Transactions that don't look like they're for personal use. Offshore accounts, big sums moving quietly."
Rachel watched Walter's façade crack, just a hairline fracture in his composure. His eyes flitted to the paper, then away, as if the black-and-white could burn. She didn't move, didn't speak—her silence a vice squeezing the room tighter around him.
"Explain that," Ethan prodded, tapping the printout for emphasis.
"Business," Walter muttered, his voice suddenly hoarse. "It's just business."
"Smuggling is a risky business, isn't it?" Rachel interjected smoothly, her words deliberate, probing the chink in his armor. "Especially when you're dealing with items more valuable than flesh."
Walter's jaw clenched, his denial hovering on the tip of his tongue, unsaid. Rachel leaned forward, her elbows resting on the cold metal table, her eyes locked onto his. She could see the sweat forming at his temples, the way his breath had shallowed.
"Looks like you needed Anna's help with your... business ventures," she suggested, letting the implication hang thick between them.
Walter's throat worked soundlessly, his earlier bravado seeping away like water through cracks. Rachel knew that look—the realization that the walls were closing in, that there was no way out but through the truth. And it was only a matter of time before it poured out, uncontrollable and damning.
Walter's gaze flickered to the one-way mirror, a silent witness to his unraveling. His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled on the steel table where the printout lay accusingly. Rachel observed him, her sharp eyes noting each twitch and swallow, every sign of his crumbling facade. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his head, weighing his options.
"Anna..." Walter began, the name a strained whisper, "she was ... it was just an interview."
Rachel's brow arched ever so slightly, her posture unyielding. She felt a grim satisfaction at breaking through his defenses, yet she remained cautious, wary of deception.
"Go on," Ethan urged.
"We were moving items—valuable ones." Walter's admission hung between them, a tarnished truth. "Anna knew people. People, I didn't. She was... essential."
"Essential," Rachel echoed, her tone dry like the west Texas wind. She tapped a finger on the metal surface, a metronome to his faltering heartbeat.
"Without her, you were what? Stranded?" Ethan pressed, leaning forward.
"Exactly... but she didn't show up. Left me high and dry."
"Convenient," Rachel murmured, skepticism lacing her words.
"Convenient indeed," Ethan agreed, a shadow of doubt flickering across his features. He exchanged a glance with Rachel, a silent conversation passing between them.
"Left you without her help," Rachel repeated, the statement tasting like ash on her tongue. "Or left you with a perfect excuse," she concluded softly, the implication heavy in the air. Walter's eyes darted up, a flash of fear betraying him.
Rachel leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she studied Walter Boyd's face—a canvas of deflection. "Walter," she began, the name a blade on her tongue, "you've spun quite the yarn here. But it's wearing thin."
"Detective, I've told you everything I know," Walter insisted, his voice threaded with feigned innocence.
"Where'd you go after Anna failed to show up for your meeting?"
"Nowhere," he said. "The job was a bust. I had to leave. That's all."
"And you didn't see her at all?"
"No!" he insisted.
Rachel frowned, leaning back. "Can anyone else vouch for your whereabouts?"
