AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rachel took another sip of the bitter liquid. It scorched down her throat, a welcome burn.
Rachel moved past pleasantries, her thoughts honing in on the task at hand. She leaned against the sink, staring out the window where darkness pressed against the glass. The importance of leverage—it was the silent drumbeat in her head, a rhythm she couldn't ignore. She needed something personal, something raw to unravel the lieutenant's defenses.
She'd tried it through the proper channels.
Had tried interrogation rooms and evidence collection.
But this man? This whole operation... it was well beyond the bounds. She knew what she was doing. At least, she hoped she did.
It was personal, and she was determined to see it all through. Her aunt hadn't even hesitated to agree to help. Once Rachel had told her the situation, her aunt had been more than willing to assist.
Rachel knew it would take time. The man would lie at first. Deny. Then... maybe, just maybe... In this strange place, away from the familiarity of police stations and civilized interviews... maybe he'd tell her something.
She was thinking like an orphan now. Like a child who'd lost her parents far too young.
She needed answers.
A part of her wondered what Ethan Morgan might say if he saw what she was up to. Another part of her wondered what her friend and mentor, Thomas Greywolf, would do. If the boss found out, she'd lose her job... worse.
But she'd come too far.
More than a decade of cold silence. More than a decade of no answers.
The police had their chance.
Now it was their turn.
She could feel her aunt watching her, and Rachel began, her voice low, "I need to know everything about him. Weaknesses, fears. I have to break him."
"Break or bend," her aunt corrected, rising from her stool to fetch an old ledger from the cabinet. "Either way, you'll need this." She tossed the book onto the table; it landed with a thud, dust motes dancing in the air.
"His past," Aunt Sarah said, tapping the leather-bound spine. "Unsanitized."
With deliberate care, Rachel opened the ledger, her eyes scanning over handwritten notes, dates, names—all manner of sins cataloged with meticulous detail. A history of the man below, laid bare for exploitation.
"How'd you find this?" she said.
"Dawes. He had it compiled. Everyone has a pressure point," she murmured. "We will find it," Aunt Sarah urged, retreating into the background, her presence a silent pillar of strength.
Rachel was staring at her coffee cup. In her peripheral vision, Rachel could see her aunt, a specter in the doorway—watchful, capable. In her hands, the ledger's pages felt like power, a promise that soon, very soon, the lieutenant would spill his secrets like coins from a broken safe. She just needed to find the right crack.
Rachel flicked on the dim lamp, its light pooling over the ledger's yellowed pages. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, hiding just as the truths she sought did in the crevices of the lieutenant's past. She flipped through the entries, her fingers brushing over the paper like a diviner seeking answers from beyond.
"Arrests," she muttered, tracing a line of text with her index finger. "Brawls. Dishonorable discharge." The words were breadcrumbs, leading her through a dark forest of misdeeds. "Underage gambling ring," she read aloud, pausing. Her lips pursed. "He mentioned something about an auction."
Her aunt just shrugged.
"Keep going," Aunt Sarah called from the shadows, her voice firm. "The man's been dirty since he could walk. You'll find worse."
Rachel nodded, eyes narrowing. She was a huntress tracking her prey; every fact a footprint, every hidden shame a scent on the wind. She turned another page, the paper rasping softly.
"Here," she said, her tone flat but inside, a coil tightened. "He spent some time at an auction house. Nearly fifteen years ago. Think this could be it?"
"I don't know."
Rachel tensed but nodded. Neither of them knew. Not yet. Time would tell.
She scanned the document, and said softly, "Looks like he's skated more than once. Charges were dropped when he was fifteen. Things went bad."
