Page 31 of Not This Soon

Grant's eyes gleamed, a predatory glint. He leaned back, his posture relaxed. "I'll take a polygraph."

The lawyers erupted, voices overlapping. "Absolutely not!" "Mr. Grant, we advise against-"

Grant silenced them with a raised hand. His gaze locked on Rachel. "I have nothing to hide. If I pass, you let me go. Simple as that."

Rachel's jaw clenched. The audacity, the sheer arrogance. She couldn't let him manipulate the situation. "Not a chance. Or have you forgotten our last encounter?"

Grant's brow furrowed, feigning confusion. "Refresh my memory."

"The IT worker. I caught you about to execute him." Rachel's words were clipped, harsh.

A flicker of recognition, then dismissal. Grant waved a hand. "A misunderstanding. Earl will corroborate. He's still employed with us, after all."

Rachel's stomach turned. The implication hung heavy - Grant's influence ran deep. Even potential witnesses were under his thumb.

She couldn't let him dictate the terms. Agreeing to the polygraph was too risky, the outcome too uncertain. But the alternative... Letting Grant walk out, untouchable. It made her blood boil.

Rachel's mind raced, searching for a strategy. She needed to regain control, to find another angle. But Grant's smug expression never wavered. He knew he held the cards. And he was calling her bluff.

The tension stretched, thick and suffocating. Rachel's options dwindled with each passing second.

She had to make a decision.

She exchanged a glance with Ethan. His eyes mirrored her doubts, her frustration. But there was something else - a flicker of determination. A silent encouragement.

Rachel drew a breath, steeling herself. She had to take the chance. Despite the lawyers' leeriness, despite the sinking feeling in her gut.

"Fine." The word felt like lead on her tongue. "We'll do the polygraph."

Grant's smile widened. Victorious. He rose from his seat, smoothing his suit. "Excellent. Shall we?"

Rachel and Ethan stood, the scrape of chairs loud in the sudden silence. The lawyers mumbled amongst themselves, discontent evident in their hunched postures.

Grant strode towards the door, his lawyers flanking him. Rachel and Ethan followed, footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Ethan pulled out his phone, dialing the polygraph administrator. His voice was low, urgent.

Rachel's heart pounded as they navigated the maze of corridors. Each step brought them closer to the polygraph room. Closer to the truth.

Or another dead end.

The weight of the case bore down on her. Rebecca Morris' face flashed through her mind. The promising young journalist, silenced forever.

Rachel's resolve hardened. She couldn't let her murder go unsolved.

They reached the polygraph room. Grant entered first, confidence radiating from his every move.

Rachel paused at the threshold. The room seemed to stretch before her, a yawning chasm.

She glanced at Ethan. He nodded, a silent show of support.

Drawing a steadying breath, Rachel stepped inside. The door closed behind her with a finality that sent a chill down her spine.

There was no turning back now.

The polygraph room was stark, clinical. White walls, a single table, two chairs. The polygraph machine sat on the table, wires and sensors coiled like serpents.

Grant settled into one of the chairs, leaning back with an air of nonchalance. His lawyers hovered by the door, their presence a looming shadow.

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