CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rachel noticed the way Jack was walking as he walked out of the house. There was a march to it, as if he had some undefined purpose he was trying to find. She could tell he was angry and assumed it was because of her. But they couldn’t let their personal issues get in the way of the case.
“She’s clean?” Rachel asked, noting the woman inside the house was not with him.
“She was no help, but we’ve got nothing to bust her on,” Jack said. “She says her name is Rosalie Deetz and she’s been dating Charlie for about six months.”
“Any clue as to why he’d be running?”
“Nothing I could see. If there’s anything at all in the house, I’m sure a thorough look-over will turn something up.” He crossed his arms as he stood with her outside of the car while Charlie Foster waited in the back seat. “So what do we do now, Rachel? You can’t very well come with me into the office to question him. If anyone who knows about your leave of absence sees you, Anderson is going to find out.”
She knew he was right but still felt a bit of resentment at the way he was addressing her. “You’re right,” she said flatly. “So just take me back to my house. It’s not too far out of the way.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“No. I hate it. But as much as I hate to admit it, it’s the smart move.” She smiled out of habit, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe you just drive slowly and we can question him in the car.”
He made the same lazy smile but then cocked his head and changed his expression. “Maybe that’s not so crazy,” he said. He’d lowered his voice, as if making sure Charlie couldn’t hear him. “Get in. Follow my lead.”
Rachel was not usually so easygoing when it came to following along with a plan that she didn’t know the details to. But the look of curiosity and determination she saw on Jack’s face made it a little easier to go along with whatever he had planned.
They both got into the car and as soon as the doors were closed, Jack looked into the back seat, directly at Charlie. “Charlie Foster, yes?”
“Yes,” Charlie said. Rachel could tell that he was uneasy but was doing his very best to keep a brave face on.
“Any reason you ran like your house was on fire when you heard the FBI was at the door?”
Charlie looked back and forth between them, trying his best to size them up. Having interrogated several hundred people during her time as an agent, Rachel knew that this was the moment where the criminal tried to make a decision. Did they deny any wrong-doing or did they admit just enough to warrant a slap on the wrist with the hope that the feds would go away happy with a small victory while there was a much larger crime lurking elsewhere?
Ten seconds passed and Charlie said nothing. He looked back toward the house, where Rosalie Deetz was still watching, now from a small crack in the front door.
Jack took his eyes away from Charlie and looked at Rachel. He sighed, shook his head, and said, “Damn, Gift. What do you want to do here? Is it even worth the trouble? The day’s over and I just want to get home.”
“Hey, a bust is a bust,” Rachel said. “What did the girlfriend say?”
“Not a thing.” Again, looking back to Charlie, he said: “Come on, just tell us. Why’d you run. No, wait…a better question: why do you think we were here in the first place?”
“Hell if I know,” Charlie said. Rachel saw that he was clearly confused over the way this conversation was taking place.
“I really think you’re lying to me,” Jack said. “But look, I’m going to level with you. We know you did it. We have enough evidence and if you keep denying it, we’re going to have to make a whole big thing out of this. But if you just tell us right now…come clean and tell us—just the two of us—then we can make a neat little bust. You’ll get a slap on the wrist, maybe a few fines, but you won’t go to jail. Do you follow me?”
“You expect me to believe a word you say?”
“Hey, I don’t care one way or the other. Either way this goes down, we’re getting a bust. I’m a happy guy either way. You’re the one who gets to decide if this is going to be a long and drawn-out process or if it’s over for everyone—including you—injust a matter of hours.”
Rachel could tell by the way Charlie’s eyes were looking all around that he was about to reveal something. But at the same time, she also noticed that he looked merely nervous. Whatever he was about to admit to might be criminal at its core, but it wasn’t going to be involvement of murder or malice.
“There’s some taped to the back of the toilet,” Charlie said. “And then there’s some more on the underside of the drawer on the table on my bedside.”
Drugs, then, Rachel thought. And certainly something more than pot or pills if he’s hiding it like this and takes off running at the mention of the FBI at his door. As far as Rachel was concerned, this meant he was very likely not their killer. Before she could allow the defeat of the moment to settle in over her, she jumped right back into their little performance.
“And that’s it?” she said.
“Yes, I swear.”
Jack looked back at the house, solely coming out of character. “You made a good choice, Mr. Foster.”
“Man…I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”