“You’re saying it’s a fake?”Jake asked.
“Of course it’s fake,” Holbrook scoffed, leaning forward with a confidence that bordered on theatrical.“Garth Fields has had it out for me ever since I refused to give his nephew a job at the ranch.He’s not above fabricating evidence to get back at me.”
Jenna felt the sharp sting of frustration.There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the recording was real and that its authenticity could be proven.Garth didn’t have the expertise or wherewithal to fabricate such a thing.Yet, she couldn’t help but admire Holbrook’s audacity.It was as though he reveled in their confrontation.
“Is that so?”Jenna let the silence linger before continuing, “It seems you’ve made quite a few enemies around here, Mr.Holbrook.Would you say that comes with the territory of being a ranch owner, or is it something more personal than that?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Holbrook’s lips curved into a smile.“I suppose it’s a bit of both, Sheriff.People can be petty when they don’t get what they want.Or when they’re faced with new ideas.”
Jake jumped in, seizing an opportunity he thought might rattle the suspect.“You know perfectly well that forensics can verify that it’s your voice in that recording, and also that it hasn’t been doctored.It does suggest that you might have had something to do with the murders of Clyde Simmons and Roger Bates.”
Holbrook’s demeanor shifted from defensive to scoffingly defiant, as if the accusation was beneath him.
“Does it really?”he asked, with a haughtiness that made Jenna’s grip tighten on the edge of the table.“I didn’t hear either of those unlucky men’s names mentioned just now.And don’t try to pull fake forensics on me.I’ve already given you alibis for both of those nights.Have you even bothered to check them?”His eyes, a cold shade of blue, bore into Jenna and Jake, challenging them.
“We’re in the process of verifying your alibis, Mr.Holbrook,” she stated, maintaining eye contact with the man across the table.“But given the evidence we’ve uncovered—”
“Evidence?”Holbrook cut her off with an incredulous chuckle, his dark eyes glinting with something akin to amusement.“You mean the ramblings of a corrupt official and a doctored tape?Please, Sheriff.”He leaned back in his chair, the air of superiority practically rolling off him in waves.
Jenna had to wonder—could he truly be innocent?Or was this just another layer of deceit from a master manipulator?But she had seen it before—the innocent act, the feigned cooperation—all tactics used by the guilty to sow seeds of uncertainty.
“Mr.Holbrook,” she said calmly, “we also have testimony from Mr.Fields about your attempts to manipulate zoning laws.Care to comment on that?”She watched him intently.
For the first time since they’d started, a flash of anger crossed Holbrook’s face—an involuntary betrayal of his emotions.“Garth Fields is a desperate man looking to save his own skin,” Holbrook spat out, the calm veneer momentarily slipping.“I’ve never attempted to manipulate any laws.My business practices are entirely above board.”
Holbrook straightened in his chair, the smirk forming again on his face.“I think we’re done here,” he announced, his tone final.“Unless you have any actual evidence to present, I’d like to return to my cell to await my lawyer, who will post bail.”
With that Holbrook got to his feet, his hands still cuffed but his attitude unshaken.She suspected that posting bail might not be a simple matter, since he was a likely flight risk and a potential danger to the public.But his arrogance was remarkable, and Jenna saw that unraveling his composure wasn’t going to be easy.As he was escorted from the interrogation room, even the echo of his footsteps seemed to mock them,
After the door closed with a resounding click, sealing Holbrook away from them, Jenna remained sitting at the table for a moment longer, her mind still full of questions.
“Well, that was frustrating,” Jake sighed, his voice carrying the weight of their thwarted efforts.“He’s certainly not making this easy for us.”
“What do you think?Is he our killer?”Jenna’s words cut through the room’s silence, each syllable heavy with the need for resolution.
Jake shook his head slowly, his gaze meeting hers.“I hate to say it, but I’m not convinced.He’s arrogant as hell, and I’m sure we can nail him on the zoning manipulation, no matter how good his lawyer is.There will be traces in the county records and likely plenty of ranchers willing to testify.But his reaction to the murder accusations...it didn’t feel like guilt to me.He seemed genuinely offended by the suggestion.And if his alibis check out…” His voice trailed off as he considered the implications.
Jenna reviewed at the evidence they had—the tape, Garth’s testimony, they had all seemed to lead to Ethan Holbrook.Now, under scrutiny, they appeared frayed and tangled.Some would hold up, others might not.
Jenna voiced the inevitable, “We need to update the mayor on all of this.”
“She’s not going to be happy,” Jake said, concluding her thought.
In her mind’s eye, Jenna saw the mayor’s manicured nails tapping an impatient rhythm on her desk, her hawk-like gaze demanding answers they didn’t yet have.She straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back in a practiced gesture of preparedness.They had faced the mayor’s disapproval before.
“That’s not what bothers me most,” she said.“If Holbrook is innocent of the murders …”
“Then someone else is guilty.”Jake added.
Their job wasn’t just about finding the killer—it was about preventing another loss, another family from experiencing the kind of haunting void that had consumed Jenna’s own life for two decades since her twin disappeared.
“I’m afraid the killer with that deadly branding iron is still out there,” Jenna said finally, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Parked in the shadow of a weathered oak, the man’s vehicle was an island of seclusion amid the bustle of Trentville’s sparse street traffic.The one bright spot of sun that bore down on the car’s hood cast a glare on the windshield, making it hard for passersby to see inside.
He adjusted the rearview mirror minutely, keeping the figures of Sheriff Graves and Deputy Hawkins in the frame as they conversed beside their cruiser.Through the tinted glass, he observed their body language.Squinting against the glare of the mid-July sun, they were clearly oblivious to the observer cloaked in the anonymity of distance and dark glass.