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"First up, Joseph Kellerman. Demolitions expert. Fits the profile," Rachel read aloud, distilling the life of a man into bullet points that could lead them to a killer. "Aggressive tendencies, bar fights, domestic disputes."
"Charming," Ethan muttered, his tone dry.
"Then we have Alex Bardem. Communications specialist. Less direct but equally troubled. Drug abuse, AWOL incidents, psychiatric evaluations." Rachel's finger hovered over a photo of a man with gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes—a portrait of potential guilt.
"We gonna have to speak to 'em both?"
"Yeah."
Ethan glanced around the station. "Not exactly singing with activity."
"You can call Kai if you want some backup."
He snorted. "How about I take Kellerman and you take Bardem."
"I wanted Kellerman," she said quickly.
"What? You think I can't handle him?"
"I didn't say that."
"Didn't deny it either." He grunted. "Fine... fine... We'll keep it fair. Flip a coin?" Ethan suggested, pulling a quarter from his pocket with a magician's flourish. It glinted briefly in the precinct's sterile light before he thumbed it into the air.
"Sure." Rachel leaned back, watching the coin ascend, peak, then descend—a silver arbiter of fate.
"For me. Heads for Kellerman, tails for Bardem." The coin clattered onto the desk, spinning briefly before yielding its verdict: heads. "Kellerman it is," Ethan declared, scooping up the quarter and sliding it back into his pocket.
"You rigged it."
"Prove it, Blackwood."
She allowed another rare smile. Very few people were able to elicit the emotion from her as much as Ethan. She glanced over her shoulder. "Interview room one for you, then," Rachel said, suppressing a yawn as she made a mental note of the room assignment. "Go find the guy. Stay safe. Bring him back."
"Same to you."
She nodded, tilting her hat as she pushed from her chair and moved hastily towards the door. Ethan followed close behind.
***
The Texas sun was slipping into its afternoon high, casting long shadows when Rachel pulled up to Alex Bardem's dilapidated home. Heat waves shimmered off the dusty road, a visual echo of the tension that simmered within her. She sat in the car for a moment, gathering her thoughts like ammunition.
"Focus," she murmured to herself, tapping a restless rhythm on the steering wheel with her fingers. The house before her seemed as empty as the vast sky above—no sign of life, no stirring behind the sun-bleached curtains.
She stepped out, gravel crunching beneath her boots. Her mind raced back to the precinct, the coin spinning, deciding her course.
She glanced around the desolate stretch of land. Her hand instinctively went to her gun holster for reassurance. She approached the front door and paused, listening for any sign of movement inside. Nothing but the distant crow of a lone bird somewhere beyond the parched trees.
"Dammit, Bardem," she thought, feeling the weight of the silence press against her chest. She circled to the back, finding a window slightly ajar, a whisper of an invitation—or a trap. Her training mingled with primal instinct as she pried it open with the careful leverage of her issued multi-tool.
"Sorry, law," she mused dryly to herself, the irony not lost on her as she slipped through the gap, her badge concealed beneath her plain clothes. Inside, the air was stale, heavy with neglect. Dust motes danced in the scant rays of light that penetrated the gloom.
No movement from inside. No sign that anyone had heard her. She began a methodical search, drawing on every skill her aunt had instilled in her—skills meant for survival now repurposed for the hunt. She tried not to think too much of her aunt or her upbringing.
Her fingers grazed over surfaces, sifting through the detritus of a life interrupted. Every drawer, every cupboard felt like a betrayal of privacy, yet each empty space tightened the coil of urgency within her.
"Nothing," she said under her breath, frustration lacing the word. The room held no secrets, just the echoes of a mundane existence. Bardem wasn't home.
She scanned the tables, under the beds, checked the closets... But this place didn't look as if it had been utilized in some time.
