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"Can anyone verify that?" Ethan interjected, his tone firm but not accusatory.
Jack scowled, his brow furrowing with irritation. "No. Like I said, I wasalone."
"Interesting," Rachel murmured, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the puzzle before her. If Jack was telling the truth, then they had no solid evidence against him orforhim. But there was something about the way he held himself, an air of defiance that seemed to dare them to accuse him without proof, that set her on edge.
"Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?" Jack growled, his patience clearly wearing thin. "And when can I see Sarah? Hmm?"
"Actually, yes," Ethan said, stepping forward slightly. "We've heard rumors about the state of your marriage, about how things might not have been going well between you and Sarah. Care to comment on that?"
"Those rumors are none of your damn business!" Jack snapped, his face turning a deep shade of red that matched the blood on his hands.
"Easy, Jack," Rachel chimed in, attempting to diffuse the situation. "We're just trying to find out what happened to Sarah. We're not here to point fingers without cause."
"Then ask your questions and leave me be," Jack replied tersely, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger.
"Alright," Rachel acquiesced, her gaze never leaving the suspect's face. "One last thing. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurtyou?'
Jack hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice barely audible. "Yeah. Yeah, I can think of some folk who have an axe to grind. Tom Clark for one."
Rachel tried not to glance back at the truck idling down the drive. She hoped Tom would stay put.
The moon cast a silvery glow on the ground, casting eerie shadows through the trees as Rachel and Ethan stood in front of Jack's garage behind his cabin. They exchanged a glance, both feeling the weight of uncertainty bearing down on them. Rachel's mind raced, trying to make sense of Jack's reaction and the unsettling feeling that gnawed at her.
"Got a restroom in the house?" she said suddenly.
Jack stared at her.
She shrugged, watching him, her gaze holding a question.Nothing to hide, right?
He seemed to sense the query, and with a grunt, he shrugged. "Go for it," he snapped. "First floor. Don't touch anything."
She nodded, and turned, moving towards the cabin.
Rachel held her breath as she approached the door, listening intently for any sounds. She pushed through the back door, which creaked ominously, feeling the weight of Jack's gaze fixated on her. She didn't look back.
Inside, the cabin was dimly lit and cluttered, with piles of dirty clothes and empty beer cans scattered about. Rachel wrinkled her nose at the stench of stale cigarette smoke and unwashed dishes, but pressed on.
As she made her way to the bathroom, Rachel noticed a stack of papers on the kitchen table. Curiosity getting the better of her, she approached the table and began rifling through the papers. Bills, junk mail, and old receipts littered the pile, but one sheet of paper caught her eye.
It was a handwritten note, scrawled in messy cursive. Rachel's heart quickened as she read the words.
"Meet me at the old mill, midnight. Don't tell anyone."
No signature, no indication of who the note was meant for. Rachel's mind raced with possibilities. Was this a secret rendezvous? Or was it simply a harmless note between two lovers?
Quickly snapping a photo of the note with her phone, Rachel made her way to the bathroom, relieved to find it empty. As she washed her hands, she studied her reflection in the mirror, trying to control the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She moved away from the sink, making sure to turn the light off and on, so Jack--watching from outside--would know she'd ventured to the bathroom. The pouring water would resound in the pipes she'd seen behind the house.
She moved silently through the dimly lit rooms, her eyes scanning for anything that seemed out of place. Her senses heightened, every creak of the floorboards and distant rustle of leaves outside sent shivers down her spine.
She made her way to a wooden stairwell with a rail that looked like one long, twisting branch.
As she ascended the stairs, the scent of stale air and dust filled her nostrils. Rachel paused, her hand resting on the worn wooden banister, when she spotted an open door at the end of the hallway. She approached with caution.
She heard a sound behind her and stiffened, glancing down the stairs.
Had Jack followed her into the house?
