Page 45 of Not This Way

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next morning, the sun cast an orange glow over the sprawling oil estate as Rachel and Ethan pulled up to the imposing gates. It was a Texas-sized fortress, complete with manicured lawns, a glistening fountain, and rows of towering palm trees lining the driveway. The name “Grayson Jefferson” hung in gold lettering above the entrance, leaving no doubt about the wealth and status of the man who resided within these walls.

“Looks like he’s doing well for himself,” Ethan muttered, his gaze narrowing as they assessed the property.

“Too well, maybe,” Rachel replied, her deep brown eyes filled with determination.

As they approached the front door, it swung open to reveal Grayson Jefferson himself: tall, impeccably groomed, and radiating an air of cold detachment. He had silver hair and features that weren’t nearly as wrinkled as the birthdate on his DMV photo would’ve suggested. He wore expensive, designer clothing with the logos proudly displayed, and there was an imperious tilt to his chin.

It had taken them five phone calls, three favors, and a dozen threats to get this meeting.

He didn’t offer them a smile or any sign of warmth, and Rachel could feel the tension in the air thicken as he regarded them with icy green eyes.

“Ranger Blackwood, I presume?” he drawled, barely acknowledging Ethan’s presence. “I suppose you’re here to ask me questions about my ex-wife’s murder?”

Straight and to the point. A man used to being in charge and in control.

She came to a stop at the bottom of the marble steps, one hand trailing against an ornate, curling, lacquered railing.

“Yes, Mr. Jefferson,” Rachel said, forcing herself to maintain eye contact despite the chill she felt from his demeanor.

“Fine,” he sighed, stepping aside to let them in. “But make it quick. I’m a busy man.”

As they followed him into the opulent foyer, Rachel couldn’t help but notice the extravagance surrounding them. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and priceless works of art adorned every corner of the room. It was a stark contrast to the humble home she had shared with Sarah.

“Have a seat.” Grayson gestured toward a lavish sitting area, his voice devoid of any warmth. Somehow, he made this sound like a command rather than an offer. “What do you want to know?”

They both settled slowly. Rachel’s chair was uncomfortable.

“Mr. Jefferson, can you tell us about your ex-wife?” Rachel asked, her deep brown eyes unyielding as they met Grayson’s icy gaze.

Grayson leaned back in his leather armchair, his face a mask of indifference. “What do you want to know?” he repeated, his words clipped.

“We’re investigating her murder, Mr. Jefferson,” Rachel replied calmly. “We need to know everything you can tell us about her.”

Grayson sighed and ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Beau was a complicated woman,” he said finally. “Smart, beautiful, but troubled. She had a lot of demons.”

“What kind of demons?” Ethan interjected, his voice low and steady.

Grayson gave him a withering look. “The kind that come from a difficult past,” he spat. “She had a rough childhood, and it affected her deeply. She struggled with addiction, with depression, with trust issues.”

“And how did you fit into all of this?” Rachel asked, her voice even.

Grayson’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “I tried to help her,” he said slowly. “But she was a difficult person to help. She didn’t like to be told what to do, and she didn’t like to be beholden to anyone.”

Rachel leaned forward, her gaze intent on Grayson’s face. “Did you ever hurt her, Mr. Jefferson?” she asked quietly.

Grayson’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of question is that?” he snapped. “Of course not. I loved Madison. I would never hurt her.”

Rachel didn’t back down. “There are reports that she filed a restraining order against you,” she said. “Can you explain that?”

Grayson’s face twisted in anger. “That was a misunderstanding. She was going through an episode.”

Grayson shifted in his plush armchair, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of her scrutiny.

“What sort of episode?”

He waved dismissively. “Some political rally fell through.”

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