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Rachel watched him, eyes unblinking, a predator calculating her strike. "A mental episode?"
He deflated then, the air hissing out of him like a punctured tire. "I get...help," Jack muttered, averting his gaze to the cold floor. "Treatment for my mind. It's not a crime."
"Of course not," Rachel conceded. "Must be hard, huh? Making your living as a prospector? Can't imagine there's much in it."
In the silence that followed, she cataloged every shift in his posture, every flicker of his eyes.
Rachel leaned forward, her gaze not wavering from Jack's defeated slump. The room was cold, sterile, but the air between them crackled with an intensity that belied the calm facade she projected. Her voice cut through the silence like a scalpel, precise and measured.
"Tell me about these episodes."
"They're nothing," he said, dismissively. He was leaning back now. "And my alibi? Don't need the security team. Can look at the cameras." He said this last part as if playing a trump card, his voice communicating aha!
She hesitated, and he seemed to notice this flicker of doubt. "Didn't know about that, did you?" he crowed. "Yeah. I'm on camera, lady. For days."
"And why would that be?" Ethan cut in. "Almost sounds like you were looking for an alibi."
He hesitated, swallowed. "I... It's not like that." A frown.
"So tell us what it is like?"
He let out a slow, leaking breath, and leaned back again. "I... I was worried."
"About what?"
"Just... worried, okay?"
"If you know what's going on here," Rachel said quietly, "You'd do well to inform us."
Jack let out a long, leaking sigh. He closed his eyes, exhaled and said, "I was worried for my life. I'm not... the only one in my family with these episodes."
Rachel and Ethan stared at him. She was rapidly calculating his sincerity. Was this just another ruse? Or was he telling the truth?
She studied him, feeling tense now. What if he was telling the truth about the security footage? She glanced at Ethan, glad to see him already on his phone, his face aglow. It wouldn't take long to find out if Jack was telling the truth.
Jack's eyes flickered upwards, meeting Rachel's for the briefest moment—a flash of recognition, then fear. "My nephew," he breathed, the words seeming to pain him. "He's got the same dark clouds chasing him. He made some... threats."
"Threats?" Rachel's question hung in the air, stark against the hum of the fluorescents.
"Idle ones," Jack replied quickly, too quickly. His fingers twitched. "But I had to be sure, so I—" He paused, swallowing hard. "I had my men keep an eye on things."
"Your gunmen were there because of your nephew?" Ethan interjected, skepticism lacing his tone.
"Precautions," Jack insisted, though the word felt hollow even as it left his lips.
Rachel's mind whirred, pieces clicking into place. "This nephew—where does he work?"
"An old ranch, west of here."
"Which ranch?" Rachel pressed, pen poised over the paper, ready to chase down the lead.
"Barrett's place. Run-down thing." Jack looked away, discomfort etched across his features. "Look, check my alibi. Check the security footage. I'm giving you permission, dammit. It'll clear me. I was home for the last few days. Check for yourself."
He said it so adamantly, that Rachel felt her heart sink. But she kept her disappointment in check.
"Thank you, Jack." Rachel stood, her movements deliberate, controlled. She felt Ethan rise beside her, their rhythm synced after years of silent communication.
As they stepped out of the interrogation room, Rachel allowed herself a moment to absorb the gravity of Jack's revelations. A missing nephew. A powerful man unnerved. Gunmen stationed out of familial fear. It all spun together, forming a tangled web.
