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Jake watched as Darrell's fists clenched under the table, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. The man was wound tight, like a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment.
"Look, it ain't me," Darrell growled, finally meeting Jake's eyes. "I don't know nothin' about no murders."
"Then how do you explain the victims being covered in your bugs?" Jake pressed, leaning in closer, trying to break through Darrell's stubborn defiance.
Jake slid a photo of Nadine Howe across the table, her lifeless eyes staring accusingly at Darrell.
"How about her? Ever seen this woman before?" he asked, his tone icy and firm.
Darrell picked up the photo with dirty fingers, examining it closely. "No," he said flatly, dropping it back on the table as if it were trash. "Never laid eyes on her."
"Really?" Jake challenged, narrowing his eyes. "Because she was found in the same forest where you've been hunting illegally, covered in the very insects you farm." He leaned in closer, studying Darrell's reaction as Fiona watched from the sidelines, her gaze sharp and focused.
"Like I said, I don't know her," Darrell repeated, his voice strained but unyielding.
Unsatisfied, Jake produced another photograph, this time of Harry Green, an innocent hiker who had met a similarly gruesome end. "And how about him? Just a guy who enjoyed hiking. Struck from behind and left to die, with your bugs feasting on him."
He paused for a moment, letting the weight of the accusation hang in the air.
"You're familiar with how corpse fauna can speed up the decomposition process, aren't you, Darrell?" Fiona asked.
Darrell's face reddened as he glanced at the picture, then back at Jake. His jaw clenched, but he maintained his denial. "I didn't kill these people. I just farm insects, that's all."
“And yet insects from your farm were on their bodies,” Jake said.
Darrell's eyes narrowed as he leaned back in the metal chair, arms crossed defensively over his chest. "Look, I'm telling you, I never killed anyone. I only ever hunted in that forest because there were so many deer. I needed the corpses to feed my insects."
Jake exchanged a skeptical glance with Fiona, then turned back to Darrell. "You expect us to believe that? That it's just some sort of twisted coincidence?"
"Believe what you want," Darrell spat, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "But I didn't do it."
Fiona studied Darrell closely, her analytical mind working overtime to parse out the truth from his words. Jake could tell she was as unconvinced as he was.
"Okay, let's say we entertain your version of events for a moment," Jake said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Do you have any idea who might be responsible for these killings, then?"
"I—" A flicker of realization passed over Darrell's face, and he hesitated. "Actually, you know what? There was something... odd that happened a couple weeks ago."
"Go on," Fiona prompted, leaning forward.
"Someone broke into my farm. Left the door wide open. It seemed like they'd stolen some things. I wasn't sure what exactly, but it was strange. People don't usually come around looking to steal from a place like mine, you know?" Darrell explained, his brow furrowed.
"Did you report this break-in?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Didn't see the point, really. No security cameras, no witnesses." Darrell shrugged. "But now that you mention it, if someone is planting corpse fauna on those bodies… it could be the same person who broke into my farm."
Jake could see the gears turning in Fiona's mind as she considered this new information. Was it possible that they were on the wrong track with Darrell? That someone else was behind these grisly murders?
"Interesting," Fiona murmured, her fingers tapping against her lips in thought. "We'll have to look into that."
Jake hesitated, still not entirely sold on Darrell's innocence, but he knew they couldn't dismiss this lead out of hand. He sighed and gave a curt nod. "Fine. We'll look into it. But don't think for a second that we're done with you, Darrell. If you're lying to us…"
"Trust me, I'm not," Darrell interrupted, his gaze steely and resolute. "I just want to get back to my farm and my insects. They're my life, not some sick game with human lives."
"Alright, Darrell," Jake said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's say we entertain the idea that someone broke into your farm and is now using what they stole to commit these murders. Where were you two weeks ago, on the dates when the victims were last seen alive?"
Darrell scratched at the stubble on his chin, squinting as if trying to recall the specifics. "I was out of town at an insect convention around that time. I can prove it with receipts of where I fueled up my car and all that."
"An insect convention?" Fiona echoed, her eyes narrowing.
