"Or perhaps he saw something you wish he hadn't." I leaned in closer, watching as her facade cracked, the strain etched deep in her furrowed brow.
"Are you implying something, Agent Thomas?" Carol's voice rose, a sharp note of defensiveness slicing through the calm.
“No. Just asking questions,” I smiled. “It’s my job.”
Carol's gaze darted, a sparrow trapped in a room too small. "I've told the police everything," she insisted, voice quavering like a plucked string.
"Everything?" I pressed, senses tuned to the tremble in her words and the way her eyes flickered away from mine.
"Yes—yes." A breath hitched in her throat, a silent alarm bell.
"Unconvincing," I whispered under my breath. Carol's shoulders tensed, a telltale sign.
“Excuse me?”
“Did you ever spend time with Angela? Meet up with her alone?” I asked. “Or were you only interested in talking to Will and being with him?”
“Listen, Agent. I heard your little comment just now, and I don’t appreciate it. I have been nice and entertained you andyour little quest here, but this is the end of it. I would like for you to leave. Now.”
I stared at her. I had hit a nerve, no doubt about it.
“Now,” she repeated.
There was nothing more I could do. I stood to my feet. She had told me more than she thought.
“Well, thank you for your time.”
Outside, the Florida sun blazed, indifferent to the drama unfolding within. I drove back to the Airbnb, the weight of suspicion heavy on my shoulders. The place was quiet, too quiet.
Opening the case files again, I sifted through facts and testimonies, searching for the thread that would unravel Carol's story. The phone rang, splintering the silence. Olivia's face filled the screen on Facetime.
"Hey, Mom."
"Hi, honey." My heart clenched with longing. "How are things?"
"Usual chaos." Her laughter was a balm to my soul. "Alex scored a goal today! And he won’t stop talking about it."
"Did he?" A smile found its way through my concern. Then it froze as I realized I had missed it. Again. "That's amazing."
"Mom?" Christine's voice cut in, worry etched into every syllable. "When are you coming home?"
"Soon, baby," I lied, not knowing if it held any truth. "Soon."
The call ended, leaving me submerged in the silence of my temporary quarters, the absence of my children echoing louder than ever.
Back to the files, I forced focus, determined to peel back the layers of deceit before time betrayed us all.
The cursor blinked on the screen, a steady rhythm against the chaos of my mind. I scanned the digital case file, the lines of text blurring into one. Matt's message flashed up in the corner, a lifeline in the digital sea.
"Got everything?" his words read, simple, to the point.
"Everything and more," I typed back. "It's a mess, Matt."
"Any leads?"
"So apparently, the latest new evidence is a witness statement from Carol, the neighbor, saying that she saw Will push Angela down the stairs. She had been out that night with some friends and was on her way home when she saw light inside the Jennings’ house; startled at this, she looked in through the window, and that’s when she saw it. She saw Will at the top of the stairs, arguing with Angela and then angrily pushing her down the stairs. Apparently, details in her statement fit with forensic findings at the scene, like that she grabbed the railing to steady herself and then received another push before she fell. The forensic files say that there are definitely signs of someone gripping the railing, like smeared fingerprints. Carol says in the statement that she didn’t want to tell anyone back then, as she feared for her own life, but also because she liked Will and didn’t want him to go to jail. But as the years went by, she couldn’t keep it inside. I think something is off with this statement. Carol's hiding something, but I never got around to asking her about it when I saw her," I replied. My fingers hovered over the keys, hesitation a rare weight. "Will's innocent. I know it."
"Trust your gut, Eva Rae. You're the best at this."
