Page 14 of Not This Place

“Nah. That’s the other guy.”

“Nametag?”

“Oh? Bruno. Last name.”

She frowned. Now she knew he was playing with her. Men that worked for the obscenely wealthy always seemed to think they had a special shield against the law.

She sidestepped the irritation.

"Footage from last night," Rachel stated, not a question but a command.

"Pulling it up now." Hank aka Thomas aka Rick's fingers tapped on the keys.

"Busy night?" Rachel asked, watching his face for any telltale shift.

"Always is," he replied without looking up. "Gotta keep eyes on everything."

"See anything unusual?"

"Nothing gets past us." So-called Rick's tone held pride, confidence. "We run a tight ship."

"Jasper?"

"Mr. Jasper keeps to himself. Don't meddle in security affairs."

"Convenient," Rachel murmured, more to herself than to the guard.

Rick glanced at her then, the briefest connection. "He pays well for us to handle things. No need for him to get involved."

"Of course." Rachel folded her arms, her stance all business. Every word, every pause weighed and measured. She watched the screens come to life, revealing the shadowy outlines of the estate at night. Her mind churned, filing away each piece of information.

"Here," Rick announced, pointing at a timestamp. "You can see Mr. Jasper out there. Just like he said."

"Practicing his swing," Rachel said flatly, eyes glued to the screen where the figure of Jasper appeared, small and distant.

"Yep. Alone." Rick leaned back, a gesture meant to convey finality.

"Thank you, Rick." Rachel's voice held an edge, sharp enough to cut through the hum of electronics.

"Looks like Jasper's alibi checks out," Rick insisted, satisfaction laced with a hint of challenge.

"Seems so," Rachel replied, her gaze not leaving the screen. She watched the figure drive ball after ball into the abyss of the night. Alone. A perfect alibi. Too perfect?

"Anything else?" Rick's question hung in the air, waiting.

Rachel stood up, the metal chair scraping against the concrete floor with a harsh, grating sound. Her eyes met Rick's briefly.

“Any idea who might’ve done this?” she said suddenly.

Rick seemed taken aback, his assured composure breaking for the first time. He blinked, an uneasy silence filling the room before he finally responded. "I... I don't know."

Rachel nodded, watching as he fidgeted underneath her gaze. "Wasn't Jasper, you think?"

Those words hung heavily between them. Rick cleared his throat, his confident posture returning. "Mr. Hargreaves... he doesn't get his hands dirty."

A statement loaded with implications. Rachel nodded again, her gaze not wavering from Rick's face. She was well aware of what such words meant. Men like Jasper Hargreaves had enough money and influence to keep their own hands clean while others did their dirty work. If Cheryl's death involved Jasper in any way, it was unlikely that he himself would be directly connected.

Rick hesitated. “He wouldn’t have hurt Cheryl. He loved her…”

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