Page 36 of Lone Star Showdown

“The drones are looking for Arnez,” he explained, “and when I saw this footage, I decided to cull out a photo.”

His expression turned serious. “I’m sorry about the attack tonight. Sorry that I haven’t stopped Arnez and found the killer. I’m usually pretty good at what I do, but I’ve been a little off-kilter.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Rachel insisted. “You’ve done everything…well, everything that I thought you could do. It was the reason I came to you.”

He smiled again. “No, the reason you came was so I’d help you fake your death. We’ve gotten sidetracked on that.”

She had, and now she was going to have to nix the idea altogether. “At this point, I think the killer would know it was fake and would just keep going after the others on the list.” Now, she was the one to pause. “I’ve thought about us setting a trap, about using me as a lure to draw out the killer.”

Rachel saw no surprise on his face. “I’ve considered it and dismissed it. I couldn’t come up with a scenario where I’m sure you’d be safe.”

She slid her hand over his. “Because there is no scenario where either one of us is safe. Not until the killer is caught.”

A single muscle tightened in his jaw. And he opened his mouth, no doubt to spell out why he was not going to make her bait, but they both heard someone that got their attention.

“I don’t know where my worthless piece of shit brother is,” Manson said, her voice plenty loud enough for them to hear even though they were in Bree’s office, and Manson was on the other side of the squad room. “And I don’t appreciate being summoned in here to answer more questions about the little shitbag.”

Manson was talking to Deputy Carson Mendoza who, judging from his stance, wasn’t pleased at Manson’s tone or defensive posture. Neither was Bree, Rachel noticed. The sheriff came out of the break room and made a beeline for Manson.

“Deputy Mendoza didn’t summon you,” Bree said. “I did.”

Manson cocked her head to the side. “Well, I don’t appreciate it from you, either, because I don’t know where Jason is.”

“How’d you know he was missing?” Bree asked.

Both Jericho and Rachel stood, going into the squad room so they could hear Manson’s response.

“Because he called me, that’s how,” Manson explained, “and said he was going to disappear. He claimed somebody was trying to kill him, and he thought he was in danger where he was.”

He was in less danger there than he was on the street. Well, that was true if there was indeed a killer after him. But Jason could have left if he’d been the one murdering people who’d put his mother behind bars.

“This way,” Bree said, motioning for Manson to follow her to an interview room. She didn’t add anything else until Manson and she were seated and Rachel and Jericho were in the observation deck.

“Do I need to re-read you your rights, or do you remember them?” Bree asked after turning on the recorder and added the pertinent details of date, time, and those present.

“I remember them,” said with a mountain of disgust and fury.

Bree didn’t react to the young woman’s tone or body language. She calmly sat, resting her folded hands on the table while she stared at Manson. “Do you know where your brother is?”

Manson huffed and rolled her eyes. “No.” Again, spoken with plenty of venom. “And I don’t want to know. As far as I’m concerned, the little shitbag deserves to have a killer after him.”

“Why is that?” Bree questioned.

Another huff. “Because he’s the reason my mom is dead.” She spat out each word. “He lied, and everybody believed him.”

“Lied?” Bree repeated. “You mean your mother didn’t beat him on multiple occasions?”

Manson jabbed her index finger on the table. “That’s exactly what I mean. The little shit lied, and my mother was arrested.”

“I saw the photos of your brother with bruises, a black eye, and some broken bones,” Bree pointed out.

“Self-inflicted. Yeah, my mom smacked him around a couple of times. He deserved it. But Jason hurt himself so she’d get the blame.”

Jericho looked at her, silently questioning if that was possible, but Rachel shook her head. “The broken arm was from it being twisted. He couldn’t have done that to himself. It’s the same for the pattern of the bruises. All of that was investigated…”

She stopped because she had to consider that maybe Jason had had someone inflict those injuries on him. It sickened her to think that maybe this teenager had conned them. And that it had led to his mother’s arrest and death.

If so, Rachel could understand Manson’s venom. Paulie’s, too.

---