Page 31 of So Silent

Michael frowned. “Eureka?”

“Yes. It’s a little city on the Pacific Coast in Northern California.”

“I know where it is. I just… What were you doing there?”

“I was selling some equipment.”

Faith frowned. “I thought you left Pacific Audio Solutions.”

“I did. This was a private sale.”

“To whom?”

Elena’s eyes narrowed. “I can prove that I was in a hotel in Eureka last night. That proves I didn’t kill Emily. Do you need alibis for the other nights? The other one, the girl from Bethel Records, she was… that was three days ago, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I was in… I was out of town that night too.”

“Uh uh,” Faith said. “You have to do better than that.”

Elena frowned. “I was in Tijuana. I mean, San Diego.”

“Which is it? Tijuana or San Diego?”

Elena’s eyes shifted to the left.

“I strongly suggest you don’t lie to me,” Faith warned.

Elena fidgeted in her seat. “I stayed at a hotel in San Diego and went to Tijuana during the day. I can prove that I was in San Diego too. I have the hotel bookings, and you can call them and get the security footage.”

Faith had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she still needed to make sure. “Elena? That equipment might have been used to kill three women. Maybe you didn’t stab them, but if you sold the murder weapon unknowingly to a killer, you need to tell us—”

“It wasn’t to a killer. It…” she pressed her palms to her face briefly, then sat up. “I sold some equipment in Tijuana. I drove down to make the sale personally because the guy wanted to see it. He’s not… he didn’t kill anyone. He owns a record label in Tijuana.”

“Can you give us his contact information?” Michael asked.

“No! Are you…” Elena facepalmed again and muttered something in Spanish before saying, “Fuck, I didn’t kill them, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” Faith replied. “It isn’t.”

“Why don’t you want to give us this guy’s contact? We get a phone number, we leave, and you can go back to your life.”

"Because…" Elena looked back at the camera. It remained dark. "It wasn't my equipment, okay? I stole it from Pacific when I left. They fired me over some bullshit reason, and I didn't have any other jobs lined up, so I took some synthesizers, mixers and a few microphones and stuff. I know a guy in Tijuana who sells to artists who can't afford to work with a studio. He buys the stuff bootleg and sells them at a premium in Mexico."

“So you took a trip to Tijuana to unload this stuff, and that’s where you were when Rebecca Wells and Emily Chen were killed.”

“Yes. I can prove that’s where I was. But you don’t care about the theft, right? You’re not going to tell the police about it, right?”

“Right,” Michael said. “Can you get us the names of these hotels?”

“Sure. It was the Pink Lady in Eureka and the Radisson in San Diego.”

“Phone numbers?”

"I don't remember. But you can look them up. There's only one Pink Lady in Eureka, and the Radisson is the one on Coronado Street."

“We’ll do that,” Michael said. “If you see us again, it’ll be because you’re lying to us.”

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