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“Ethan Holbrook,” Garth Fields said flatly.
For a long moment, the other three people gathered around the table in the stark interrogation room made no audible response. Jenna wasn’t shocked that the suspect had named the charismatic newcomer with his eco-friendly facade. But even though this was the break that they needed, it meant that they had to prepare for a major confrontation.
“I need you to explain exactly what you mean,” she said firmly to Garth. “How is Ethan Holbrook involved in all this?”
Garth’s mouth opened, then closed, a struggle visible behind his eyes. He glanced at his lawyer once more. Finally, he inhaled deeply then let out a breath, the sound ragged and defeated. “Holbrook... he’s got this grand plan,” he told them. “He wants to own all the ranch land in the county.” He snorted at his own words, his tone darkening with sarcasm. “Says he’s going to ‘revolutionize’ the industry.”
“And your role in this?” Jake asked calmly, his pen poised over his notepad.
Garth’s posture deflated, his broad shoulders slumping as if in surrender. “I was supposed to manipulate the zoning laws,” he admitted, eyes downcast. “Make it impossible for the other ranchers to operate profitably. Force them to sell to Holbrook at rock-bottom prices.”
“But why would you agree to something like that, Mr. Fields?” Jenna pressed gently. “You must have known it was illegal.”
“You don’t understand,” Garth spat out, his words laced with bitterness. “I’ve been stuck in this dead-end job for years. Underpaid, unappreciated.” The anger in his voice built with each syllable, echoing off the sterile walls of the interrogation room. “I came from nothing, you know.” He leaned back, arms crossing over his chest in a defiant shield. “Thought becoming a town official would be my ticket to a better life. But it’s just another trap.”
Jenna recognized this kind of anger, had seen in the eyes of people who felt the world owed them more. “Being somebody doesn’t justify betraying your own community, Mr. Fields,” she said quietly.
“So you betrayed your community for a promise?” Jake’s voice disdain, but Jenna heard the undercurrent of pity there too. She knew he couldn’t understand why someone would turn their back on their own people, not fully.
Garth’s glare was like flint sparking against steel. “You try living paycheck to paycheck for thirty years, watching everyone else get ahead. Then tell me you wouldn’t be tempted.”
There was a raw honesty in his words that struck Jenna – desperation had driven this man to the edge where morals blurred into survival, and pride became a luxury he could ill afford. She couldn’t help but wonder how much of his frustration was justified. Had Trentville’s small-town politics pushed Garth Fields straight into Ethan Holbrook’s scheming embrace?
Garth leaned forward, the chair creaking under his weight. His voice dropped to a low, intense register, full of a desperate kind of conviction. “Holbrook offered me what I deserved. Money, respect, a future.” Jenna noted a shift in tone. As she looked into Garth’s eyes, she saw something change slightly—a flicker of regret, perhaps, or the dawning realization of the depth of his mistake. “Said once he owned all the land, I’d be his right-hand man. No more pushing papers in a cramped office. I’d be somebody.”
Jenna raised a hand, putting a hold on the escalating heat of their exchange. Silence fell, and she locked eyes with Garth, probing behind the veil of his anger. “Mr. Fields, these are serious accusations,” she said. “How can we prove any of this? Did Holbrook leave a paper trail?”
“Paper trail?” Garth scoffed, shaking his head with a mix of derision and fear. “Cash only. Holbrook’s not stupid.”
Jake leaned back, the skepticism etched clearly across his chiseled features. “Convenient. For all we know, you’re making this up to save your own skin.”
“Garth,” Jenna said, her tone low and persuasive, “think carefully. Anything at all that could corroborate what you’re telling us.”
A slow smile spreads across the man’s face. “I may be desperate, but I’m not stupid, either. I knew from the start I needed insurance. I need my phone. The one you took when you arrested me.”
Jenna called in the guard who stood just outside the door. “Get Mr. Fields his phone,” she told him.
As the guard’s footsteps receded down the sterile hallway of the Genesius County Sheriff’s Building, Jenna observed Martin Greer, Garth’s lawyer, and saw the signs of surprise. Greer shifted in his chair, a hand rising almost unconsciously to adjust his tie, a tell that Jenna filed away. The man was adept at keeping his composure, but Jenna could see that he had been blindsided by his client’s claim of having “insurance.” He hadn’t known about whatever that phone had to offer.
The guard returned, and Jenna received the phone. She handed it to Garth, watching him closely.
“I recorded our last conversation,” he muttered, thumb swiping over the screen. “Holbrook was getting paranoid, making threats. I knew I had to protect myself.”
Garth tapped an icon, and suddenly Ethan Holbrook’s voice invaded the room, a disembodied ghost of menace: “Garth, you better not be getting cold feet. We’re too far in now.”
Then Garth’s voice filled the void. “I’m not, Ethan. It’s just... people are starting to ask questions. I hear that Lily Cummings has been talking behind my back, poking around the courthouse with nosy questions.”
Holbrook’s voice, now devoid of any warmth, slithered through the speakers. “Deal with her. Whatever it takes. Do it yourself. We can’t let anyone interfere, not when we’re so close.”
“But what if—” Garth began, only to be silenced by that cold, commanding tone.
“No ‘what ifs’,” Holbrook snapped. “Not if you value your life.”
The threat hit Jenna like a physical blow, and she felt a surge of revulsion. Garth’s recorded response was feeble, the fear evident even without seeing his face.
“No, of course not,” he whispered, the defeat in his voice painting a vivid picture of a man cornered and coerced into submission.
“Good,” came Holbrook’s final word, sharp as a blade. “Because if you turn on me, Garth, I promise it will be the last thing you ever do. I’ll make sure of it personally.” The words were a death sentence spelled out, a stark warning that sealed Garth’s fate should he step out of line.
Then silence engulfed the room, oppressive and thick. The recording stopped, but the gravity of Holbrook’s threats lingered. This was no longer just about corrupt land deals; it was about murder, intimidation, and a ruthless pursuit of power at all costs.
“Garth, I can assure you we take these threats seriously,” Jenna began, keeping her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, She stepped closer, leaning slightly across the table towards Garth, whose fear had cracked his earlier facade of defiance. “We’ll provide the protection you need, but you have to understand—we’re also going to need every detail you can remember.”
“Yeah, I... I get it,” he stammered. “Just keep me alive, Sheriff.”
“We’ll do that,” she said curtly, her mind already cataloging the necessary steps: protective custody arrangements, constant surveillance, and an iron-clad assurance that they’d keep their end of the deal.
Jenna called the guard to return the prisoner to his cell. “Make sure he’s under 24-hour watch,” she instructed him. “No one gets in to see him without my consent.”
“Will do, Sheriff,” came the prompt reply.
Jenna watched as the guard escorted Garth away. Martin Greer, Garth’s counsel, lingered by the door, his sharp gaze fixed on Jenna.
“Remember, Sheriff Graves,” Greer said, his voice echoing slightly off the sterile walls of the corridor, “you’ve promised my client reduced charges for his cooperation. And protection. He’s held up his side of the bargain.”
“Your client’s cooperation will be reflected in my report,” Jenna assured him, meeting his stare unflinchingly. “The department appreciates Mr. Fields’ willingness to come forward.”
The lawyer nodded, satisfied with her response. The door clicked behind him as he left, probably to consult with his client again.
Jenna felt a familiar frustration. Deals like this went against her grain, offering leniency to those who skirted the edge of the law. But she needed Garth. His testimony could unravel Holbrook’s plans and lead to the answers that had eluded them.
“We need to move fast,” she said to Jake, her voice low but edged with urgency. “But we’ll have to get a warrant before we move out, so let’s get that request on the fast track.”
“I’m on it,” Jake replied confidently as his thumb moved over the screen of his phone. “I have a feeling Judge Lindsay will help us out.”
Jake spent a few minutes talking and listening on his phone as Jenna considered their upcoming moves. She was already picturing the sprawling Verdigris Ranch in her mind’s eye, the potential hideaways and escape routes Ethan Holbrook might exploit.
As he ended the call. Jake said, “We’ve got it.”
Jenna expressed another concern, “If Holbrook gets wind of this, he might try to run.”
“We’ll need a team to secure the ranch right away,” Jake replied. “I’ll call for backup. Colonel Spelling should be able to get his team out there in a hurry.”
“Good,” Jenna replied, her own hand reaching for the radio at her hip. “Let our guys know we’re on high alert. Full tactical gear. I don’t want any surprises.”
As Jake coordinated with the highway patrol and the police dispatcher, a puzzle piece nagged at the back of her mind, refusing to slot into the emerging picture of corruption and coercion. “Jake, what about the brand? The tree symbol? How does that fit into all this?”
Jake’s brow creased as he mulled it over. “I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s Holbrook’s way of marking his territory? I guess we’ll have to ask him.” His tone suggested he was reaching for answers in the dark, hoping to grasp something solid.
Jenna considered the brand design found on the victims’ bodies—the sinister tree-like mark with deep-delving roots. It was a dark signature, one that whispered of legacy and possession. She was sure it had specific meaning to this killer.
“Marking his territory...” she considered, tasting the words. The idea made sense in a primal, disturbing way. The brand was a statement, a declaration that this land, these people, were his. But there was also more to it, something deeper. Jenna could feel it.
Soon the warrant arrived, and the Colonel called in to say that the highway patrol was on it’s way.
“Let’s hope that Holbrook’s in a talkative mood,” Jenna muttered as she and Jake rushed out to the parking lot. But she knew it was a faint hope; men like Holbrook were skilled in the art of concealment, their weaknesses buried deep beneath layers of deception and power.
The cruiser’s door closed with a thud, the sound final and resolute. Jenna inhaled deeply, the air filling her lungs with a surge of determination. Each breath was a silent incantation, bolstering her resolve as she prepared to face whatever twisted paths lay ahead. As they pulled away from the jail, Jenna allowed herself a fleeting glance at the fading structure, its bricks holding the secrets of those who came before, and those who would inevitably follow.
“Ready?” Jake’s voice pierced her thoughts, his presence beside her both a comfort and a reminder of the shared burden they carried.
“Ready,” she responded. “Let’s go get this bastard.”