Page 32 of Not This Soon

The polygraph technician, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, approached the table. "I'm sorry, but the rest of you will have to wait outside."

Protests erupted from the lawyers, voices overlapping in a cacophony of discontent. Grant silenced them with a wave of his hand. "It's fine. I have nothing to hide."

The lawyers reluctantly filed out, throwing glares over their shoulders. The door closed behind them with a soft click.

Rachel stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching as the technician attached the sensors to Grant's fingers, his chest, his arm. Grant submitted to the process with a smirk, his eyes never leaving Rachel's.

"Nervous, Ranger Blackwood?" he asked, his voice a silken purr.

Rachel's jaw clenched. "Not at all, Mr. Grant."

The technician finished the setup, settling behind the machine. "We're ready to begin."

Rachel nodded, a tight jerk of her head. She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob.

"Good luck, Mr. Grant," she said, the words bitter on her tongue.

Grant's laughter followed her out of the room, a mocking echo that seemed to chase her down the hallway.

Rachel paced outside the polygraph room, her footsteps a staccato beat against the linoleum. Each passing second felt like an eternity, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.

Ethan leaned against the wall, his face drawn. "Do you think he'll pass?"

Rachel shook her head, a sharp, jerky motion. "I don't know. He's a master manipulator. He could probably fool the machine."

Inside the polygraph room, Grant sat perfectly still, his expression a mask of serenity. The technician's voice was a monotonous drone, asking question after question.

"Is your name Elias Grant?"

"Yes."

"Are you the CEO of Grant Industries?"

"Yes."

"Did you murder Rebecca Morris?"

A pause. A heartbeat. Then, "No."

The technician made a notation on his clipboard, his face revealing nothing.

Grant's lips curved into a smile, a predator's grin.

Outside the room, Rachel closed her eyes, her head falling back against the wall.

Elias was too confident. He didn’t know anything. She suspected she knew how this polygraph would end. Which meant… Rebecca Morris was still dead, and only one name remained on their list of suspects.

Robert Morris.

Her own father.

She scowled through the window, watching as Grant continued to answer the questions.

"Did you ever threaten Rebecca Morris?" The technician asked.

"No."

"Were you at your office both last night and the night before?"

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