CHAPTER SIX

The fluorescent lights of the interrogation room flickered with a low hum. Rachel Blackwood’s fingers, steady and sure, pushed the bank statement across the table. It was a cold slap of paper against the sterile surface. The document detailed a half-million dollar deposit, a glaring transaction in Cheryl's otherwise modest account.

Jasper flinched, his face paling slightly as he looked down at the statement. His cold blue eyes flickered with a hint of panic before he schooled his features back into a mask of indifference. He was a skilled actor, Rachel had to give him that. He still wore those white golfing gloves.

"You're accusing me of something?" His voice was a low growl, the undercurrent of anger bubbling beneath the veneer of composure.

"We're just trying to make sense of this, Mr. Hargreaves," Ethan chimed in. His tone was placating. The good cop, ready to soothe and reassure.

Rachel watched the interplay unfold, her gaze never leaving Jasper. She could sense his discomfort—the slight shift in his seat, the tightening grip on his well-manicured hands. He was on edge, something she hadn't seen before.

"I've known Cheryl for years," he finally said softly, breaking the silence that had descended upon them. His gaze met hers defiantly. "I loved her."

There it was again—the raw emotion in his voice that startled Rachel every time she heard it. She couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to this than what met the eye, a depth to Jasper Hargreaves that he hid well beneath layers of icy detachment.

"Explain this," Rachel said, her voice stripped of any warmth.

Jasper's eyes locked onto the statement. Time stretched thin as his mouth worked silently before snapping shut—a trap without bait.

He looked up, his gaze slicing through the space between them. "You had no right," he spat out, the words slicing the silence in two. Anger ignited in his eyes, a spark threatening to burst into flame.

"Right?" Rachel echoed back at him, her tone ironclad. Her posture remained unyielding.

"Personal information," Jasper growled, leaning forward, fists clenching at his sides. His voice rose, a crescendo of indignation. "You're a damn vulture."

Rachel didn’t flinch. Her eyes, dark and relentless, held Jasper's inflamed stare. She saw beyond the anger, searching for cracks in his facade.

Ethan rose slowly from his chair. His hands were open, palms facing Jasper in a gesture of peace. He took a step forward, closing the space Rachel had left open. "Jasper," he began, his drawl wrapping around the name like a warm blanket. "We're not here to pick bones."

Jasper's breaths came hard and fast, chest heaving. The red flush on his cheeks spoke volumes, but his eyes darted to Ethan, seeking an ally, maybe finding one.

"We just want to get to the bottom of things," Ethan continued, his tone smooth and calm. "Understand what's happened. That's all."

The tension hung thick in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to press on the walls of the room. Silence stretched, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock and Jasper's labored breathing.

"Talk to us," Ethan urged, his voice steady. "Help us see it through your eyes."

Jasper's knuckles whitened around the arms of his chair. His voice, when it came, was a low growl. "You have no idea what you're meddling with."

Ethan held his ground, unflinching. The room seemed to shrink, the walls inching closer with each second that passed.

“You and Cheryl were close,” Ethan said slowly. “Then the engagement was called off. Can I ask why ?”

A snarl. “You can ask. But my lawyers will give you the answers.”

“A half million,” Rachel said, scowling. Her hand slapped against the table, an echoing, tinny sound. “Explain it.”

“Explain how you go that,” he pointed.

“Flagged transaction,” Ethan said simply.

Rachel cut in, "You pay her. The next day, she ends up dead. Did you hire someone to do her in?"

“Why would I pay her if I was hiring someone?” he snapped.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you,” Rachel replied, her tone as cold as ice.

"No," he said, his gaze like flint. "The money was for services rendered."

"What services?" Rachel's question was blunt, her expression unyielding.

Jasper's mouth tightened, a stubborn line of resistance. "Business."

Rachel leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. Ethan slid back in his chair, his gaze steady on the suspect.

"Which business?"

Jasper Hargreaves looked cornered now, stripped of his usual hauteur and icy detachment. He was just a man under interrogation. His blue eyes flickered to the door as if he was expecting rescue - his legal team, perhaps. But the door remained closed. His salvation didn't come.

Though Rachel knew they had to move fast. Despite the late hour, the lawyers were on the way.

Silence fell in the room. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting an eerie glow. Jasper's face was a mask of anger, his eyes flitting back and forth between Ethan and Rachel.

"You're both out of your minds," he spat, his voice a deadly whisper. His fingers gripped tight onto the edges of the table, knuckles turning white.

Ethan leaned back in his seat, eyes never leaving Jasper. His face was unreadable, his manner calm compared to Jasper's wrath.

"Then what's your version?" Ethan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jasper faltered, lips parting, then closing again. He dropped his gaze to the table, focusing on the damning bank document lying in front of him.

"It was payment," he muttered under his breath.

“We can see that.” Rachel’s brows raised, "Payment for what?"

Jasper looked up at her. His icy blue eyes met hers. He hesitated. "Cheryl was helping me."

Rachel felt a surge of adrenaline at the sudden admission. She planted her hands on the edge of the table and leaned in closer to Jasper.

"Helping you with what?"

Jasper swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. "She was providing me with information about her family's business...for my company."

Rachel straightened up, letting the information sink in.

"So, you bribed Cheryl Danvers to spy on her own family?"

"Yes."

A bitter laugh escaped Rachel's lips as she paced around the room, taking it all in stride. She glanced at Ethan, who hadn't moved from his spot.

"Did you still love her?" Ethan asked, his tone even. Rachel blinked at this sudden shift.

But the words landed hard.

The question sliced through the thick air. Jasper's anger faltered, a flicker of something else in his eyes—pain, maybe regret. He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet room.

"Cheryl..." His voice broke, just a notch, but enough to crack the fa?ade. "She mattered to me.” Jasper continued, the words seeming to cost him. "She needed space. Time to find herself." His hands relaxed, releasing their grip on the chair. “I never would’ve hurt her.”

Rachel had moved now, and leaned against the cold metal frame of the door, her posture rigid as she studied Jasper. His confession hung in the air like a noose, swaying gently. Rachel's eyes narrowed; she had seen men spill their guts under pressure before, but something about Jasper's sudden vulnerability didn't sit right with her.

Jasper's chest rose and fell in measured breaths. He held Rachel's gaze with an intensity that bordered on defiance. There was no quiver in his lip, no twitch at the corner of his eye. He seemed more a statue than a man, carved from stone rather than flesh and blood.

“You seem real broken up over it,” she murmured.

"Emotions," Jasper spat the word out like a seed he'd found in his fruit. "I don't parade them for an audience."

The statement ricocheted around Rachel's mind. She prowled closer, boots silent on the floor. Her stare didn't waver. She dissected him, piece by piece, looking for the micro expressions, the involuntary tells that screamed guilt or innocence. But Jasper was a sealed vault.

"Convenient," she said, voice steady as a pulse.

Jasper's hands lay flat on the table, veins etched like blueprints to a heart she wasn't sure existed. "Truth doesn't need theatrics, Ranger."

Rachel circled the table, her movements deliberate. Each step was a question, each breath a challenge. Jasper tracked her like prey, his eyes never leaving hers. She could feel the heat of his gaze, the unspoken tension stretching between them.

Rachel leaned in, her voice cold and sharp. "Half a million, Jasper. What was Cheryl doing for that kind of money? Why spy? Like you said, your business was a hundred times larger.”

Jasper's eyes flicked to the slip and back to Rachel's unwavering stare. He shifted in his seat, discomfort creeping into his posture. "She had information of a land acquisition deal," he muttered, a weak attempt to deflect.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. His jaw clenched as if locking away words. Seconds stretched out.

"Cheryl was resourceful," Jasper said at last, voice barely above a whisper.

“Why betray her own family? She was dating someone new. Why stay connected with you? Was it the money? Did that piss you off? Maybe get you to lash out?”

Jasper's hands clasped together, knuckles whitening as he leaned forward. "It was more than just espionage," he said, a hint of something like respect threading through his voice. "Cheryl... she was the key to everything…”

“Everything? Like what?”

He just frowned at them, shrugging. “I didn’t kill her. Her death costs me more than you know.

Rachel remained motionless, absorbing the gravity of his words. She observed the tension in Jasper's shoulders, the slight tremor in his grip. "Who else knew about the deal?" she asked. Her tone cut through the silence that had settled over them like a thick fog.

"Cheryl kept things close," Jasper said, evading direct eye contact. "But her mother..." He paused, swallowing hard. "Let's just say, the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Dangerous, both of them. If she found out… she might’ve stepped in.”

"Her mother knew about the bribe?" Rachel's question was blunt, pointed.

"Could have," Jasper conceded, his gaze finally meeting hers again. "Danvers Corp CEO. Not someone you want as an enemy."

Rachel's mind raced, piecing together the implications. The room felt smaller, the air tighter. She noted every detail: the way Jasper's Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke, the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, the rigid set of his jaw.

Rachel turned again, her movements deliberate, each step measured as she paced towards the window. She stared out into the Texas dusk, the sky painted in stark shades of orange and crimson bleeding into purple. No beauty registered in her gaze—only facts, the changing light marking the time slipping away.

"Rae," Ethan began, his voice cautious. He watched her from across the room, his presence a calm in the storm that was brewing within her.

She held up a hand, silencing him without a glance. "I need to think," she said, her words clipped.

The room fell silent, save for the distant hum of sparse late-night traffic outside. Rachel's mind worked like clockwork, clicking pieces into place, making connections. Cheryl's secrets. The half-million dollars. The Hargreaves. And now, Danvers Corp.

“What was the acquisition plan?” she said at last. She turned. “Your father… you wanted out from under him, right?”

She spoke firmly, clearly. She didn’t blink.

Jasper just frowned back at her. “What do you mean?”

"I mean, you wanted to go into business with Cheryl. It's the only thing that makes sense of your story. She brings her family's deal—you undermine it with daddy's money, and you go independent. Is that the plan?"

Now, for the first time, he looked genuinely surprised.

"Who have you been talking to?"

“No one. But it’s obvious, isn’t it?” she snapped.

He opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. "That wasn't the plan," he said at last, but his voice lacked conviction.

Rachel's gaze never wavered. "You said the signatures on the documents were set for tomorrow," she pressed on, "but with Cheryl's death... it seems unlikely any plans will go through now."

Jasper’s features tightened, setting into hard lines. He looked away, breaking the intensity of their stare-off. His gaze fixed back onto the deposit slip that lay between them.

“Cheryl was my investment,” he admitted, speaking to the table rather than to her. “We had a deal.” His voice was hollow, drained of emotion.

"And now she's dead."

"That's not on me," Jasper snapped, slamming his hands hard against the table, causing the deposit slip to flutter onto the floor. He vainly reached for it, but Rachel was faster.

Ethan picked up the thread, his voice a soothing balm against Rachel's sharp accusations. "We're just trying to understand, Jasper." He paused. "If Cheryl was indeed helping you go independent…"

Jasper's eyes snapped towards Ethan, a hint of desperation creeping in. "I... we... It wasn't as simple as that," he muttered, his gaze drifting back to Rachel.

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, her expression hardened. "Make it simple for us, Jasper."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. His eyes darted around the room before meeting Rachel's again. "Cheryl..." he began hesitantly, "...she wanted out too. We were both... trapped. She was the only one with inside information about the Danvers deal that could help us."

Every word weighed heavily on Rachel's ears. Each slip, each confession drew a clearer picture of the relationship between Cheryl and Jasper. The room seemed even colder now, the harsh overhead light casting long shadows.

Rachel found she believed the man sitting across from them. He looked… pained. It was likely why he’d paid her. Why there had been no other outgoing transactions. Why he’d been on a security camera all night. He really had been practicing his golf swing.

So where was Jake, the missing boyfriend?

"And her mother? Where does she fit in this?" Rachel asked.

Jasper stayed silent for a moment before heaving another sigh. "Alice Danvers is a formidable woman," he said quietly but brimming with palpable fear. "She would have done everything to prevent Cheryl from leaving."