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With a heavy sigh, Jake forced himself to refocus, turning away from the door and back toward his laptop. As he sank into the chair, the screen flickered to life, revealing the case files they'd been poring over earlier. Clide Jenson's face stared back at him, wild-eyed and disheveled. Something about the man bothered Jake, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He knew Mason was the most likely suspect now, but the whole thing with Mark and Clide felt off too.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, tapping the keys with frustration. The story Mark had provided seemed too convenient, too perfect. While Clide appeared incapable of weaving such an elaborate lie, Mark exuded a confidence and intelligence that suggested otherwise. Was he hiding something?
Jake leaned in closer, squinting at the screen as he scrolled through Mark's background. With every click, he grew more convinced that the lawyer was somehow involved in the case. It didn't make sense for him to show up so suddenly, especially when his connection to Clide seemed tenuous at best.
"Are you protecting your brother, Mark?" Jake whispered, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Or are you just using him to cover your own tracks?" The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as Jake continued his search, determined to uncover the truth behind Mark's involvement.
The more he uncovered, the more unsettling it became. Not only did Mark have a criminal record for domestic violence, but his career also revolved around defending men accused of similar crimes. A sickening feeling settled in the pit of Jake's stomach as he wondered what kind of monster they were dealing with.
"Jesus," Jake muttered to himself, the weight of the information sinking in.
As he continued to dig, he stumbled across Mark's social media page. His fingers flew across the keyboard, scrolling through years of posts and photos until one image stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Unbelievable," he whispered, staring at the photograph of Mark standing beside a smiling Matilda Black. There was no mistaking it – the same woman whose death had happened years ago, and was linked to their current case, was now linked directly to Mark. Blood pounded in Jake's ears as his heart raced, anxiety and adrenaline mixing together.
Without a second thought, he grabbed his phone and dialed Fiona's number. It rang and rang, each unanswered tone amplifying his fear. "Come on, Fiona. Pick up," he pleaded under his breath, his free hand clenching into a fist. But she never answered. "Damn it, Fiona," Jake exhaled, his frustration growing. As a thousand different scenarios played out in his mind, he knew he couldn't just sit idly by. He had to find her, had to warn her about Mark's connection to Matilda.
"Hey, it's me," he said into the phone’s voicemail, his voice tense with urgency. "I just found something you need to see. Call me back as soon as you get this. It's important."
With that, he hung up and stared at the screen, willing the phone to ring for Fiona to call him back. But the silence was deafening, and Jake couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time.
***
The sinking sun painted the sky in oranges and purples, casting long shadows across the quiet suburban street. Fiona's heels clicked on the sidewalk as she approached the small bungalow, her thoughts swirling with the possibility of Jake's unfaithfulness. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the case at hand. Now was not the time for personal drama; Mason Black was the priority.
She knocked on the door, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The seconds stretched into an eternity before the door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with a kind face framed by wispy white hair.
"Hello," Fiona greeted her, offering a reassuring smile. "I'm Fiona Red, a forensic analyst with the FBI. I'm looking for Mason Black. Does he live here?"
The woman's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. "Yes, dear. I'm his grandmother, Beverly. Mason hasn't been home for several days now. He must be staying with a girlfriend or something."
"Can you tell me anything about this girlfriend? Her name, where she lives?" Fiona asked, hoping for a lead.
Beverly shook her head regretfully. "I'm afraid I don't know much about my grandson's personal life. He's always been very private."
Fiona's shoulders slumped, disappointment tugging at her chest. She forced herself to maintain her professional demeanor, even as her mind raced with worry about Jake and Lauren.
Fiona's gut churned with unease, the bad feeling gnawing at her insides. She glanced at Beverly, whose expression had turned solemn. "Do you mind if I ask about Mason’s sister, Matilda?" Fiona asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Beverly sighed, her eyes clouding over with sadness. "Mason never quite came to terms with what happened to his sister. He was devastated, as we all were."
Fiona felt her phone buzz in her pocket but ignored it, too desperate for answers to shift her focus. She needed to know more to understand the depths of Mason's pain and how it might be connected to this case. "Can you tell me anything else? Any specific incidents or behavior that stood out?"
"Matilda's funeral," Beverly said, her voice quivering. "Mason... he made a huge scene there, claiming that his sister had been murdered and that the police were wrong. They had to escort him out of the service. It was heartbreaking."
Fiona's heart ached for the family torn apart by tragedy, even as her mind raced to process the new information. The image of a distraught Mason being removed from his sister's funeral added another layer to his complicated character.
"Since then, Mason has struggled with his mental health. That's why he lives here with me," Beverly continued, her gaze distant. "His parents... they don't have much of a relationship with him anymore. It's just too painful for everyone involved."
Fiona nodded, taking in every word. As much as she didn't want to suspect Mason, the pieces were starting to fit together. His unresolved anger and grief could have pushed him down a dark path. With each revelation, the weight of the case pressed down on her like an iron vise, threatening to crush her resolve.
She needed to find Mason and uncover the truth before it was too late. But first, she had to confront her own fears and uncertainties. The buzzing of her phone was a constant reminder of the secrets that lay between her and Jake, like an ever-widening chasm she wasn't sure they could cross.
"Does he have a way we can reach him?" Fiona asked, her eyes darting between Beverly and the dimly lit living room behind her.
Beverly nodded hesitantly. "I can give you his cell number," she said, reaching for a notepad on a nearby table. "But he doesn't always answer. I worry about him a lot, you know? It's not unusual for Mason to vanish for days, sometimes weeks at a time." She scribbled down the digits and handed the paper to Fiona. "He struggles with substance abuse as well, which only adds to my concerns."
"Thank you, Beverly," Fiona replied, taking the paper and folding it into her pocket. "One last question, if you don't mind. Has Mason ever been violent?"
