Page 17 of Not This Place

They both drifted off into contemplative silence.

Ethan turned the laptop toward her, a line highlighted in blue. The sum was significant. It spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Rachel's pulse quickened. They were onto something. She reached for the brim of her white hat, which she'd removed to peer through the scope.

Rachel's gaze locked onto the Hargreaves residence, her eyes narrowing as she scoped the sprawling grounds. The green was still. No shadows flitted between the hedges or the water hazards. Yet there he was—Jasper Hargreaves, sauntering down the fairway with a golf club slung over his shoulder. The sky bruised into dusk; no golfer should be out this late.

"He’s back on the course," Rachel muttered. "Doesn't add up."

Ethan's fingers paused mid-stroke. They shared a look, one that questioned the normalcy of Jasper's leisurely pursuit against the backdrop of their investigation.

"We need to bring him in." Her declaration was solid. "Questioning. Now."

"Agreed." Ethan closed the laptop with a quiet snap. Their course was set.

She lowered her rifle and adjusted the hat back onto her head with no small amount of relief.

The engine roared to life beneath Rachel's steady hands. She threw the vehicle into drive, tires crunching over loose stones as they sped toward the Hargreaves estate. Beside her, Ethan's fingers danced across his phone, the screen's glow painting stark contrasts over his focused face.

"Time?" Rachel's voice cut through the cabin's silence like a scalpel.

"Twenty-two minutes past midnight." Ethan's reply, clipped and even.

The road ahead lay bathed in the harsh beams of their headlights, every turn an echo of urgency. Trees blurred past, their branches clawing at the dark sky. Rachel's grip tightened on the wheel. Muscles tensed. Resolve hardened.

Ethan checked the rearview mirror, then the side. No trailing lights. No following cars. "Clear.”

Brake lights flashed briefly as the car took a sharp bend, inertia pressing them against leather seats. Ahead, the wrought iron gates of the Hargreaves estate loomed.

But this time, they wouldn’t meet in Jasper’s comfort zone.

He was coming with them.

Whether he liked it or not.

CHAPTER SIX

The fluorescent lights of the interrogation room flickered with a low hum. Rachel Blackwood’s fingers, steady and sure, pushed the bank statement across the table. It was a cold slap of paper against the sterile surface. The document detailed a half-million dollar deposit, a glaring transaction in Cheryl's otherwise modest account.

Jasper flinched, his face paling slightly as he looked down at the statement. His cold blue eyes flickered with a hint of panic before he schooled his features back into a mask of indifference. He was a skilled actor, Rachel had to give him that. He still wore those white golfing gloves.

"You're accusing me of something?" His voice was a low growl, the undercurrent of anger bubbling beneath the veneer of composure.

"We're just trying to make sense of this, Mr. Hargreaves," Ethan chimed in. His tone was placating. The good cop, ready to soothe and reassure.

Rachel watched the interplay unfold, her gaze never leaving Jasper. She could sense his discomfort—the slight shift in his seat, the tightening grip on his well-manicured hands. He was on edge, something she hadn't seen before.

"I've known Cheryl for years," he finally said softly, breaking the silence that had descended upon them. His gaze met hers defiantly. "I loved her."

There it was again—the raw emotion in his voice that startled Rachel every time she heard it. She couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to this than what met the eye, a depth to Jasper Hargreaves that he hid well beneath layers of icy detachment.

"Explain this," Rachel said, her voice stripped of any warmth.

Jasper's eyes locked onto the statement. Time stretched thin as his mouth worked silently before snapping shut—a trap without bait.

He looked up, his gaze slicing through the space between them. "You had no right," he spat out, the words slicing the silence in two. Anger ignited in his eyes, a spark threatening to burst into flame.

"Right?" Rachel echoed back at him, her tone ironclad. Her posture remained unyielding.

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