Page 18

Jenna took a deep breath, steeling herself for the upcoming confrontation in the Genesius County Jail’s interview room. It was hardly more than a box with bare walls and a cold linoleum floor, furnished with a table and several plain chairs—a stark contrast to the plush offices where lawyers typically spun their narratives. She glanced at Jake, who stood waiting with her for the public defender assigned to Garth Field to arrive after conferring with his client.

Then the door opened, and Martin Greer entered the room like a storm cloud in a rumpled suit, his wiry frame tensed for battle. His salt-and-pepper hair was a disordered crown atop his head, an unintended reflection of the urgency that had summoned them all here.

“Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins,” Greer greeted them, his voice holding an edge sharpened by many hours in courtrooms.

“Mr. Greer.” Jenna’s words cut through the air, crisp and clear. She and Jake stood waiting to hear what he had to say.

The lawyer wasted no time launching into his defense. “My client, Mr. Fields, vehemently denies any involvement in Ms. Cummings’ alleged abduction,” Greer stated. He cleared his throat, continuing, “He claims Ms. Cummings came into his house voluntarily to discuss some... misunderstandings about zoning regulations.”

“Counselor, with all due respect, that explanation isn’t going to work,” Jenna told him. “We found Ms. Cummings bound and gagged in Mr. Fields’ home. That’s not a ‘misunderstanding’ about zoning.”

She watched Greer closely, observing the way his stance wavered. His discomfort was obvious, and Jenna knew that beneath his practiced exterior lay a man grasping at straws.

“Perhaps there was a... misinterpretation of events. My client—” Greer started, his voice searching for a stronghold.

“Mr. Greer, let’s cut to the chase,” Jake cut in, his tone sharper than the glare of the overhead lights. Jenna turned towards him slightly, noting the way his stance had shifted into something more confrontational. “We’re not holding Mr. Fields solely for Ms. Cummings’ abduction. He’s also currently our prime suspect in the murders of Clyde Simmons and Roger Bates.”

Greer’s complexion went ashen, the color leaching from his face like water from a wrung-out cloth. “Murders? No, absolutely not. My client had nothing at all to do with any murders!” he sputtered.

Jenna’s voice was a controlled calm. “If that’s true, Mr. Greer, then it’s in your client’s best interest to explain himself. Fully and truthfully.”

She observed Martin Greer closely as he sat down at the table. She and Jake pulled up chairs opposite him and waited in silence as the public defender tapped a staccato rhythm on the metallic surface. Greer’s eyes now fixed on some indeterminate point on the table, as if the answers to his client’s predicament could emerge from the wood grain.

“Mr. Greer?” she prompted.

Greer inhaled deeply, a sigh escaping his lips as if he were deflating before their eyes. “If... if a deal can be made,” he began, his voice low and cautious, barely more than a murmur, “my client may be able to provide information about certain... financial irregularities involving a prominent figure in the county.”

Jake’s reaction was immediate. “Financial irregularities? You mean the bribes and kickbacks he’s been receiving?” The words tumbled out with a bluntness that came from Jake’s years on the beat, where sugarcoating facts served no one.

Greer’s wince was almost imperceptible, but Jenna caught it. He nodded slowly, a reluctant admission without words. “He’s not admitting to any such thing. But hypothetically … yes.”

Jenna’s flashed back to what Lily Cummings had said after her rescue—that they needed to find whoever was pulling Garth Fields’ his strings, making those bribes and kickbacks.

“Keep talking, Mr. Greer,” Jenna said. She needed to hear more.

Jenna watched the public defender’s thin fingers cease their drumming. Greer leaned forward, the fluorescent light glinting off his spectacles, and pitched his voice low, as though the very walls of the Genesius County Jail interview room might betray his confidences.

“But you have to understand,” he said, the plea evident in his tone, “if Mr. Fields is able to offer any information, he’ll need protection, in addition to a lesser charge. The person behind … the … information you’re asking for … is powerful and dangerous.”

Jenna’s heart quickened. This could be the break they’d been waiting for—the chance to unravel corruption in the county’s power structure.

“We can discuss a deal,” she began, each word measured, “but it will hold only if Mr. Fields’ information proves useful and he cooperates fully.” Jenna leaned forward, her green eyes locking onto Greer’s, ensuring he grasped the full weight of her conditions. “That includes explaining his attack on Ms. Cummings and any knowledge he has about the murders.”

“Fine,” Greer conceded with a drawn-out sigh, as if relinquishing a part of his soul. “I’ll need assurances—written assurances—that my client will be protected.”

Jenna nodded. “You’ll have your paperwork. But we need to hear everything from Fields himself.” Her level gaze left no room for doubt; she would accept nothing less than complete transparency.

The negotiation that followed was like navigating a minefield, each step deliberate and fraught with hidden perils. Jenna dissected every word, every nuance of the lawyer’s counteroffers as they slowly edged toward common ground. The agreement they finally reached was a testament to the delicate nature of give-and-take.

In return for Garth Fields’ full cooperation they would reduce the charges from kidnapping to unlawful restraint—a significant downgrade that could mean years off his sentence. They also promised witness protection, contingent on the validity and value of the information he provided.

Greer’s gaze flickered between Jenna and Jake, assessing their determination. He knew they were not bluffing, knew they held the cards this time. After a pause that stretched like taut wire, he exhaled, the fight visibly leaving his posture as he nodded his assent.

“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll talk to my client.”

As Greer left to arrange for Garth Fields to be brought in, Jenna’s thoughts churned with possibilities. If Fields talked, if he gave them the killer’s name, it could change everything.

The door opened a short while later, and there stood Garth Fields—a bear of a man whose imposing frame seemed diminished now, shackled and escorted by a uniformed officer. His darting eyes betrayed his anxiety as he took in the sight of Jenna and Jake.

Greer stepped into the room and guided his client to a seat at the table. Pulling up another chair for himself, he nodded for Jenna to proceed.

“Mr. Fields,” Jenna began without preamble, her voice steady and commanding, “let’s start with Ms. Cummings. We know she was in your house, bound and gagged. There’s no point in denying your involvement.”

Fields’ mouth opened, then closed, a silent struggle taking place behind his darting eyes. Jenna held her breath, waiting for the dam to break, for the flood of truth to wash away the grime of uncertainty and deception.

“Mr. Fields,” she repeated, her tone steady and resolute, “we’re listening for your response.”

Fields’ shoulders slumped, and Jenna watched, unflinching, as defeat seeped into his features. His voice emerged faintly, barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning. “I... I panicked.”

“You have to be explicit,” his lawyer prompted.

Garth’s hands trembled on the tabletop, his defeat etched deep in the lines of his face. Jenna watched him closely, trying to discern the man beneath the stench of desperation and fear.

“Lily showed up at my door, waving papers, saying she had proof of the kickbacks.” Garth’s voice cracked as he spoke, the image of Lily Cummings, vibrant and relentless, clashing violently with the reality of her bound and silenced. “I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to scare her into keeping quiet.”

Jake’s spoke with a tone of righteous fury. “So you thought tying her up and threatening her life was the way to go?” His voice was granite, unforgiving, echoing off the walls of the tiny room.

Jenna’s heart pounded against her ribs. Jake’s anger was a mirror to hers own, but it was crucial to keep a cool head. They needed Fields to unravel the web of corruption that had taken root in their town.

“Mr. Fields,” Jenna pressed, her tone unwavering, “we’ve established your role in the situation with Ms. Cummings. Let’s not dwell on the methods you chose for silence. That’s already on the table.” She locked eyes with him, willing him to understand the gravity of the moment. “What we need now is to dig deeper. Who else is involved? How far does this go?”

The prisoner looked as though he were staring down the barrel of a gun. He glanced at his lawyer, who nodded for him to continue. Sweat beaded on Fields’ forehead as he struggled to find the courage to speak.

“Mr. Fields, Ms. Cummings told us about the threat you made,” Jenna said, her tone steady despite the tempest of emotions brewing within her. The room felt like it was closing in, the claustrophobic space mirroring the tightening noose around Fields’ rapidly unraveling story. “You said she was getting too close, that she’d end up like ‘the others’ if she didn’t back off. What did you mean by that?”

The air seemed to be still, charged with anticipation. Fields looked up at her, his eyes wide, the color having fled his cheeks. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost—or perhaps, more aptly, like one haunted by the specter of his own guilt. His voice, when it finally broke the silence, was so faint Jenna had to lean in to catch the tremulous words.

“No, no, you don’t understand. It was just an empty threat. I was trying to scare her off, that’s all.” His plea was desperate, imploring them to believe the unconvincing facade of innocence he tried to construct. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Clyde and Roger, I swear it!”

Jenna exchanged a glance with Jake, noting the hard glint in his eyes that mirrored her own determination. They were circling the truth, and both knew it was only a matter of time before it came pouring out.

“Then who did?” Jake demanded, his voice slicing through the tension. “You clearly know something, Mr. Fields. Now’s the time to come clean.”

Fields’ gaze darted between them, the fight visibly draining from him as his shoulders slumped. Jenna could see the walls he had built crumbling around him, leaving behind only the raw, naked fear of a man with nowhere left to run. She sensed the shift in him, an imperceptible surrender to the inevitable current that was pulling them all toward a revelation.

“Talk to us, Garth,” Jenna urged softly, coaxing the truth from him as one might encourage a wounded animal from its hiding place. “We can help you, but only if you’re honest with us.”

Fields swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a throat constricted by dread. Jenna held her breath, waiting, knowing that the next words out of his mouth could be the key they needed to unlock the darkness that had settled over Genesius County.

Fields’ eyes flickered with emotions—fear most of all.

“Who is behind all this, Mr. Fields?” Jenna’s voice was soft, deceptively gentle, but her eyes were steel traps waiting to snap shut.

Fields looked as though he were staring down the barrel of a gun.

Jenna’s emerald eyes locked onto Garth Fields, her intuition sharpening to a fine point as she sensed the precarious edge they were all teetering on. The interview room in the Genesius County Jail seemed to close in around them, the air thick with tension and unspoken fears. She could almost feel the walls listening, hungry for the secrets that might spill from this man’s lips.

Fields glanced desperately towards his lawyer, his puffed-up bravado deflated into the hunched form of a scared, cornered creature. Greer again gave a grim nod—a silent permission to proceed with the truth, however dangerous it might be.

“The man who’s been paying me...” Fields’ voice was rough, gravelly, betraying the strain of inner turmoil. “He’s the one you should be looking at. He’s dangerous, more than you know.” His rheumy eyes met Jenna’s, seeking some kind of absolution or perhaps merely understanding.

“Mr. Fields,” Jenna’s voice was steady, calm but edged with authority, “we can protect you, but we need a name. Who’s behind all this?”

The room held its breath. Fields’ mouth opened and closed, he swallowed hard. Fear creased his face, deepening the lines that hardship had etched into his skin. He glanced again at his lawyer, then back to Jenna, as if trying to find an escape hatch in her gaze.

Time seemed suspended, the afternoon sun filtering through the barred window streaking across the worn table between them. Then, as if the words were being torn from the depths of his soul, Fields whispered a name that pierced the stillness like a bullet.