Page 24 of Her Last Secret

"Look, I know how it sounds," Bryson said. "But I'm telling you the truth. It's all legit. I can give you the names of the companies, the contacts, whatever you need."

"Whatever we need, huh?" Rachel echoed, her mind racing ahead, contemplating their next move. She could sense the walls closing in on Bryson, feel the fear emanating from him. Whether it was the fear of being caught in a lie or something far darker, she couldn't be sure. Not yet.

"Clean or not, Bryson," Rachel said, her voice firm, "we'll be digging into every crevice of your work. If there's anything dirty hiding there, we will find it."

“Okay! You just let me know what you need.”

“Mr. Lawrence,” Jack said, “were Miranda and Courtney the only actress you had your eyes on?”

“For starters, yes. I wasn’t really familiar with the theater world. It’s very different from strippers and all that. They would have been my test run, I guess you could say.”

“Were you at any point ever aware of actresses by the name of Emily Ross or Sarah Jennings?”

Bryson thought hard about this for a moment and shook his head. "I'll be honest…the name Sarah Jennings sounds a little familiar, but I couldn't tell you why. Maybe I heard the name or saw it on a playbill."

As badly as Rachel wanted to bring this pig in for some reason, she was beginning to think he was innocent. She’d demand to see a copy of the contracts he’d mentioned but even then…it would likely have absolutely nothing to do with the case.

"Let's talk alibis, Bryson," she said, clipping each word with precision. "Where were you four nights ago?"

The question hung heavy in the room, like smoke from a snuffed-out candle. Bryson shifted uneasily, again going deep into thought. "Four nights ago, I was at a small gathering," he began, the words spilling out with hurried clarity. "Some colleagues from the website. We do this monthly poker game and sort of a drinking binge-type thing.”

“Where?”

“The home of one of the owners. He’s got a pool and this huge patio.”

“And how long were you there?” Jack asked.

“All night. I ended up crashing there.”

“And last night?”

“Last night, I was here. I was working all night.”

“Can anyone back that up?”

“A few people, yeah. We had this really long Zoom call about some upcoming features and I—”

Bryson was interrupted by the sound of Rachel's phone. She glanced down at the caller ID and saw an unfamiliar number. But as an FBI agent—especially one who had recently had her grandmother killed by a deranged woman who’d also tried kidnapping her daughter—an unknown number never went ignored.

“I need to take this,” she said, looking at Jack.

He nodded to her and she left in confidence that Jack would wrap things up by getting names, numbers, a copy of the contract Bryson had mentioned. She slipped out into the hall, answering the call. “This is Agent Gift.”

“Agent Gift, it’s Marcus Flint.”

She recognized the name right away—the director she and Jack had already spoken to.

"Mr. Flint," she said, her tone guarded yet curious. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. But I had this thing that sort of popped into my head earlier today. I'm not sure if it will help, but I figured…well, I mean, it could be huge."

"Go on," Rachel urged, leaning against the wall, her pulse quickening.

And he did just that as Rachel listened intently—standing outside the apartment while Jack remained inside with Bryson, partners tackling the case from two different ends…. hoping one of those paths would lead them to their killer.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“First of all, I’m so damn sorry that I didn’t think of this earlier,” Marcus Flint said. “I feel sort of like an idiot.”

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