Page 17

Fiona pushed open the door to Power Juice, the colorful logo splashing across the glass as they entered. The midday sun streamed through the wide windows, casting a warm glow over the vibrant hues of the interior—turquoise walls decorated with posters of fruit and health slogans, the gleaming silver countertops dotted with blenders and cups. It was surprisingly quiet for lunchtime, with only a few patrons sipping their drinks in silence.

She spotted Marcus immediately, the mop in his hand swishing against the floor, cleaning up a spill behind the counter. His shoulders hunched, his movements slow and deliberate, a stark contrast to the lively setting around him. The bright sunlight seemed to avoid him, leaving his expression shadowed, an island of melancholy in the cheerful space.

"Red," Jake whispered, nudging her forward. They moved toward Marcus, their steps muffled by the ambient hum of refrigerators.

"Hey, Marcus," Fiona called out gently, not wanting to startle him further. But as Marcus turned, his eyes widened, betraying surprise—or was it fear? He straightened, gripping the mop handle like a lifeline.

"Agents... back again?" His voice cracked slightly, his gaze darting away from theirs.

"Is Victor in today?" Fiona asked, trying to sound casual. She watched Marcus closely, her training kicking in, noting the beads of sweat on his brow despite the coolness of the bar.

"Uh, no... he's off today." Marcus's reply came quick, too quick. His eyes shifted back and forth between Fiona and Jake, and she could see his hands tremble.

"Everything okay, Marcus?” Jake probed further.

"Fine, just fine," Marcus stammered, yet his shaky hands betrayed his words. "It's just been a slow day, you know?" But the lie hung heavy in the air, as tangible as the scent of fresh fruit and protein powder that permeated the shop.

Fiona exchanged a glance with Jake, sensing there was more to Marcus's nervousness than a simple slow business day. They had to tread carefully; whoever had killed those women might be connected to this place, to Marcus, or even to Victor Harmon himself. And if Marcus knew something, they needed him to trust them enough to reveal it.

Fiona's gaze locked on Marcus, the faint tremor in his hands not lost on her. "Marcus," Jake began, his tone firm yet not unkind, "can we talk in private for a moment?"

Marcus glanced at the few scattered patrons before nodding. He called over his shoulder, signaling a coworker with an apron as vibrant as the fruit displayed on the counter. The coworker took Marcus's place, easing into the routine of blending and serving without missing a beat.

Together, they retreated to the breakroom—pale in comparison to Power Juice's colorful front. The room was cramped, the hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, and the walls were plastered with employee schedules and food safety posters. Fiona stood near the door as Jake leaned against a table that had seen better days.

"Marcus, this is important," Jake said, pulling out a photograph from his jacket pocket. It was a picture of Erica Silverman, her eyes bright and demeanor strong. He held it up. "Have you seen her here before?"

Marcus wiped his palms on his pants before taking the photo. His fingers brushed against the glossy surface as he studied it. Fiona watched his face, searching for any flicker of recognition or deceit. "Yes," he admitted after a heavy pause, "she's been in a couple of times."

"Think hard, Marcus. Anything unusual about her visits?" Fiona asked, her voice steady.

“No?” Marcus’s hands were trembling, the photo of Erica Silverman slipping slightly as he tried to hold it steady. Fiona noticed the quiver in his grip and the anxious darting of his eyes.

"You seem on edge, Marcus," Jake observed, his voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel.

Marcus glanced up at them, then down at his shoes, the clean lines of the breakroom suddenly suffocating. "I... I can't lose this job," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth like rocks in an avalanche. "Victor—he wasn’t with us the whole night. I lied."

Fiona felt her pulse quicken, the confession hitting her with the force of a physical blow. Beside her, Jake stiffened, his shock palpable even without a word spoken.

"Marcus, you need to explain," Jake demanded, steel edging his tone. "Why lie for Victor?"

Marcus ran a shaky hand through his hair, the weight of desperation in his posture. "My girlfriend, she's eight months pregnant. We're barely scraping by as it is." His voice broke, strained with fear. "Victor cornered me, said I had to back him up. I didn't know—didn't think it was about...murder."

Fiona exchanged a glance with Jake, both reeling from the implications. The lies they had been fed now unfurling into something far more sinister. She stepped closer to Marcus, her resolve strengthening. "We understand the position you're in," she assured him softly, trying to alleviate some of the terror that clung to him like a second skin. "But we need to know everything if we're going to find the truth. If Victor wasn't with you two nights ago, where was he?"

The question hung in the air, a specter that seemed to grasp at the edges of Marcus's composure. "I have no idea," he admitted, a hint of defeat deflating his posture. His gaze fell away, unable to meet Fiona's steady scrutiny.

"Think, Marcus," Fiona urged, her tone firm but not unkind. "Anything you remember could help."

Marcus shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. "He just wasn't there. That's all I know."

Jake leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was an undercurrent of intensity in his stance. "We need more on Victor," he said, his voice a quiet command. "What's he like as a manager? Any odd behaviors or habits we should know about?"

"Victor's...tough," Marcus started, reluctantly pulling back the curtain on their enigmatic manager. "A hard ass, definitely. He's got this way of making you feel small, you know?" A shiver ran through Marcus as he recalled interactions best forgotten. "And a creep too, always staring a little too long at the women who come in."

Jake took in Marcus’s words, his gaze distant. “Any incidents involving Victor and female employees?” he asked. Fiona saw Marcus hesitate, a fleeting look of fear crossing his face before he answered.

"Victor got fired from his last job for that sort of thing," he admitted, swallowing hard. "I mean, you probably know that. The guy is, like, a genius or whatever, but he's working here."

“He was an entomologist, yes,” Fiona pointed out.

“Yeah, well, the owner of this franchise is kind of a sleazy guy too and he doesn’t care about what Victor does as long as he runs the store,” Marcus said. “Some of the girls have been uncomfortable with him, but he’s never like, done anything.”

“Did Victor ever mention anything about spiders?” Fiona asked.

Marcus frowned. “No… I don’t think so.”

"Did he ever say anything about Erica Silverman?”

Marcus swallowed, wrapping his arms around himself as if to ward off a chill. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "She usually only comes in when it's crowded, and Victor tends to stay in the back during rush times. He did seem kind of fixated on the one girl, the martial artist?”

“Jamie,” Fiona said.

“Yeah. I only remember because she’d come in dressed up in those martial arts robes, and Victor would gawk at her. It made everyone uncomfortable.”

“But he didn’t mention the other two?”

“I don’t know, if he did, we didn’t notice.”

"Is that it?" Jake prodded, eyes sharp.

Marcus hesitated before adding, "He's not the worst guy in the world, despite that." He sighed, a conflicted note in his voice. "I don't think he's capable of murder. But then, why lie about the alibi? It doesn't add up. It's strange, right?"

"Strange doesn't begin to cover it," Jake muttered under his breath.

Fiona nodded, processing the information. Victor's character sketch was becoming increasingly complex, a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit. The lying about the alibi—what did it conceal?

Fiona studied Marcus, noting the tremble in his hands as he wiped them on his apron. His eyes darted to the doorway, then back to her and Jake, as if he expected someone to burst through at any moment.

"Marcus," Jake said, his voice steady, a rock in turbulent waters, "you've done the right thing by telling us this. We're going to dig into Victor's story, find out why he lied about where he was. That's what matters now."

"Whether it leads to murder charges or not," Fiona added, her own voice firm yet compassionate. She saw the weight of their words settle on Marcus's shoulders, saw the relief mingled with fear in his eyes.

"Thank you," Marcus murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He straightened slightly, as though steadying himself against an unseen force. "I didn't mean any harm by lying. I just... I really need this job."

Fiona nodded. The lines of worry etched across Marcus's face spoke volumes of the pressures he carried—pressures they had inadvertently compounded. But now, with the truth laid bare, perhaps they could start to unravel the knot of deceptions.

"Look," Marcus continued, a newfound resolve hardening his voice, "if you need anything else, any other info, just ask. I'll be honest from now on. I swear."

"Thank for that, Marcus. Honesty is what we need." Fiona replied, giving him a reassuring nod.

She watched as Marcus exhaled deeply, his chest deflating like a balloon after a party. The anxiety didn't leave his face entirely, but the acute panic seemed to have subsided. He'd stepped into the light of truth, and regardless of the consequences, there was honor in that.

Fiona stepped out of Power Juice, her mind racing as she thanked Marcus one last time. The door closed behind them with a soft jingle, the sound sharply contrasting with the gravity of their situation. She glanced at Jake, noting the grim set of his jaw, and they both started toward their car parked down the street.

"Victor Harmon," Fiona muttered under her breath. Her eyes scanned the busy sidewalks, half-expecting to see the man in question lurking around a corner. "If he is our guy and we let him go..."

Jake's stride faltered for just a moment. "We can't start thinking like that, Red. It's not on us. We'll find him."

"Right." Fiona unlocked the car, the beep echoing in the quiet between them. They slid inside, the interior holding a chill from being in the shade. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough to whiten her knuckles, a tangible display of her frustration. "But Erica Silverman could still be alive if..." Fiona began, but Jake cut her off before she could spiral further.

"Hey," Jake said, reaching over to place a hand over hers, gently easing her grip. "We're going to find Victor, and we're going to get answers. That's what matters now."

She nodded, taking a deep breath as she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, disrupting the silence that had settled inside the vehicle. Fiona focused on the road ahead, letting the familiar task of driving anchor her scattered thoughts.

"Let's go over what we know," Jake suggested, pulling out his notebook filled with scribbles and case notes.

Fiona merged onto the road, the scenery blurring past as she drove. She thought about Erica Silverman, a woman close to her own age with a passion for kickboxing, whose life had been cruelly snatched away.

"We can't afford to think about the what-ifs," Jake reiterated, his voice firm yet supportive. "Not when there's still so much to do."

"Right," Fiona agreed again, this time with more conviction. She sped up slightly, eager to leave behind the shadow of regret that seemed to cling to the rearview mirror. Ahead lay the pursuit of truth, and with it, a chance to prevent another tragedy.