Page 66 of Not This Way

Rachel sighed inwardly as she tried to decipher the enigma that was Boyd.

The silence in the room was thick, as though the air itself had become heavy with anxiety. Rachel’s gaze remained fixed on Boyd. She didn’t say a word, but justwatchedhim, her penetrating gaze piercing him to his chair.

Boyd shifted uneasily, his handcuffed hands gripping the metal table before him. He avoided eye contact with Rachel, instead directing his gaze at a crack in the cold concrete floor beneath them. “I’ve told you already, I don’t know anything,” he muttered weakly, his voice barely audible.

A glimpse of the truth hidden behind those fearful eyes.

As if on cue, the door to the interrogation room swung open, revealing a tall, imposing woman with a no-nonsense attitude. She entered the room with purpose, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached the table. Boyd visibly relaxed upon seeing her, his fidgeting coming to an abrupt halt.

“Victoria Caldwell,” the woman introduced herself, though no one had asked. She set her briefcase down on the table with a decisiveclick. “I’m Mr. Boyd’s attorney.” She shot Boyd a reassuring glance before turning her attention back to Rachel. “I understand you’ve been questioning my client without legal representation present?”

Rachel bristled at the accusation, but bit back any retort that threatened to spill from her lips. Instead, she opted to remain silent, her jaw clenched tightly as she watched Victoria take a seat beside Boyd.

Her eyes briefly moved to a second figure standing in the hall. A man. He was dressed in a neat suit, and had begun pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“My chauffeur,” the lawyer said quickly. “Don’t mind him.”

The door was swinging slowly shut on spring-loaded hinges. To Rachel’s eye, the man out in the hall looked more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur. She wondered what sort of law firm she was dealing with.

One that paid its employees well, no doubt. The man in the hall was wearing an expensive suit, and his shoes caught her attention. Also expensive, with a unique, golden swoop on the sides.

The sort of outfit one might give someone to keep quiet. The mob often plied its members with gifts to keep them in line.

The door shut now, sealing off Rachel’s view, and she returned her attention to the present threat.

“Alright then,” Victoria said, her voice calm yet firm. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed as the lawyer, Victoria, surveyed the room with an air of authority. The silence in the dimly lit space was broken by the sound of her briefcase clicking open and a stack of papers being rustled.

“Ranger,” Victoria said, her voice cold and unyielding, “I must ask you to leave the room. Your presence could be considered coercion.” The lawyer spoke smoothly, not even bothering to look up from her papers. “I’ll handle everything from here.”

Rachel shrugged, giving Boyd a long look. She got to her feet and pushed out the door. The hallway was dimly lit, casting long shadows that only served to heighten her sense of unease. She paced back and forth, her mind racing, before finally stopping in front of the one-way mirror that offered a view into the room.

From this vantage point, she watched Boyd’s trembling hands and darting eyes as he spoke in hushed tones with Victoria.

Why had he fled? Because he’d known they’d caught up with him?

Was this timid, scared street racer really the killer?

It made sense. Behind a steering wheel, or the blade of a knife, perhaps he felt powerful. But faced with danger?

Not so much.

The dim light from the overhead bulb cast solemn shadows across Boyd’s face, emphasizing the dark circles under his weary eyes. He leaned in closer to Victoria, his chained wrists clanking softly against the metal table. Their conversation was hushed, each word exchanged like a precious secret, too fragile for the open air.

She studied Boyd, the nervous way he kept drumming his fingers against the table. His shifting posture, his gaze darting furtively toward the closed door.

This was a man who was hiding something.

But what?

She crossed her arms, watching.

Was he the killer?

Cops were back at his place, combing through everything. But no call meant nothing found…

Yet.

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