Page 73 of Not This Place

“Bullshit,” she said.

“Nah. It’s true. Your aunt stole the haul. Killed your momma. Your old man got in the way. We went after her to get the haul back. She scampered. Took us some time to reach her. What with that asshole, Dawes guarding her.”

Dawes, the reservation sheriff, had always been close to Rachel’s aunt, and she’d never quite known why.

But she didn’t believe any of this.

It was a farce. She couldn’t believe it. Aunt Sarah?

Joseph's words felt like a punch to the gut, but Rachel pushed back against the pain. "You're manipulating me," she spat, her voice echoing off the grey walls of the room.

Joseph chuckled, a low and guttural sound that resonated in the sterile environment. "Am I?" he asked, mocking her with his eyes.

Rachel sat back in her chair, her mind spinning. The room around her seemed to teeter on the edge of reality as she grappled with his words. It was all too surreal, too grotesque. Yet, in the depths of her heart, something twisted dangerously.

She had to control the situation. She had to regain her footing. "I'm not buying it," she said finally, her voice steadier than before. Her gaze locked onto Joseph's familiar, cruel grin. "You're trying to confuse me."

He just shrugged again, a nonchalant yet dangerous gesture that made Rachel's blood boil.

The room felt colder than ever before - a hollowed space. The fluorescent light overhead flickered, casting long shadows over Joseph's face.

"Let's say you're telling the truth," Rachel said, giving voice to a possibility that sent shivers down her spine. Her palms were sweaty on the cool metal table.

"Doesn't change the fact that you killed my parents."

Joseph met her gaze with an unnerving stillness, his icy eyes devoid of any remorse or humanity.

"I didn't kill anybody," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. His words were cold and precise - a contrast to the heat burning in Rachel.

"No," she repeated, the denial of a life-preserver that she clung to against the rush of icy dread that threatened to pull her under. "No. I don't...I won't believe you."

The irate flush on his face was almost satisfying. His chains echoed as he moved, his usual smug smirk replaced with a scowl. "Why would I lie?" he spat, his voice bitter and full of venom.

Rachel's mind reeled, thoughts racing as if propelled by a tornado. The distrustful part of her wanted to dismiss his claims outright, but a small, insidious whisper nagged at her, gnawing at her resolve. Was there some truth in Joseph's words? Could Aunt Sarah...

"No!" she said again, more forcefully this time, trying to drown out the doubts plaguing her. She glared at the man across from her, hating how his words had shaken her.

Joseph leaned back in his chair, his gaze holding hers as if challenging her to refute him again. "She fooled us all," he muttered darkly, shaking his head with what might have been regret. Or was it simply another sick game he was playing?

Rachel pushed herself up from the table abruptly; the chair scraped loudly across the concrete floor, echoing in the hollow silence around them.

"Enough!" Her voice cracked with unbearable tension. She turned towards the exit, wanting nothing more than to escape this stifling room and Joseph’s poisonous words.

“Your aunt isn’t who you think!” Joseph called out after her, his voice booming against the cold stone walls. “Ask her! Ask her about momma’s death!"

But Rachel was already striding out of the room, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a wild thing. His words echoed in her ears, a cruel haunting that she couldn't shake.

Outside the prison walls, the Texas night was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside Rachel. She quickly climbed into her car, slamming the door shut behind her. The silence inside was deafening. She sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she fought to regain control over her spiraling thoughts.

She started the car, its engine breaking through the quiet with a low growl. But as she drove away from the prison, she couldn't help but look back at it - a looming silhouette against the starlit sky.

The drive back to town was a blur of empty roads and flickering streetlights. Her mind was preoccupied with Joseph's accusations.

Her hands were shaking slightly as she picked up the phone on her desk and dialed her aunt's number. The line rang once... twice... Rachel's heart pounded in time with each ring.

No answer.

She tried Dawes.

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