Chapter 22
The harsh fluorescent lights of the interrogation room buzzed overhead as Rachel sat alone, the cold metal chair pressing into her back. Hours had passed since the arrest, and exhaustion tugged at her limbs, but her mind refused to quiet. The relentless questioning from the officers outside the thick glass had yet to begin, but the weight of their suspicion was already suffocating.
Her eyes drifted to the single small window near the ceiling, where a sliver of gray sky promised freedom just out of reach. The rain from the night before had stopped, but inside, it felt like a storm raged on—one she had no power to stop.
The door finally opened, and two men in plain clothes stepped inside. One was tall, with a stern face softened only by the faintest hint of pity. The other wore a cold expression that matched the sharpness in his voice.
“Rachel Morris?” the taller one asked, sitting down across from her.
She nodded, her jaw tight but steady. “Yes.”
“We know you’ve been through a lot. But you’re our prime suspect in Helen Evans’s case. We need to understand your side.”
Rachel took a deep breath, recalling every moment, every accusation, every bitter word Eric had thrown at her. “I didn’t kill Helen. I never wanted her harmed.”
The second man leaned forward, voice low and accusing. “The evidence suggests otherwise. Witnesses saw you arguing with Helen days before the attack. And your phone records show suspicious calls.”
She clenched her fists beneath the table, anger and pain mixing into a fierce determination. “Those calls were from me trying to help her. I begged her to trust me, to run away from Eric. She was scared—”
“We also have a message from Helen’s phone sent to you right before she was attacked. ‘I’m at the ONE Club. Rachel, where are you?’ What were you doing while she was there?” the first man pressed.
Rachel swallowed hard, the memory stabbing like a knife. “I was stuck. I tried to get to her, but it was too late. Those gangsters… they were arranged by someone else. I wasn’t involved.”
The room fell silent except for the hum of the ventilation. The men exchanged glances, weighing her words.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Marcus stepped in, eyes blazing with urgency. “There’s something you need to see.”
He handed over a folder filled with new evidence—security footage from a nearby street showing a shadowy figure planting something near the club that night. A figure that didn’t match Rachel’s description.
Rachel’s heart hammered as the officers studied the footage. The doubt flickered in their eyes.
“Who is this?” one asked.
Marcus shook his head. “We don’t know yet. But it’s proof someone framed Rachel.”
For the first time, Rachel felt a flicker of hope break through the crushing weight of accusation.
But even as the officers began to reconsider, a new danger lurked in the shadows—a truth more dangerous than any prison, and a man more ruthless than she had ever faced.
Eric Nelson.