Page 65 of Twice Missing
Noah grabbed the report and headed out of the room, approaching one of the officers in the hallway. "Hey, uh, did you know Selena Lightfeather?" he asked.
The officer nodded. "Everyone knew her. At least, we all at one time or another got called out to her. Intoxication, domestic disputes. You name it."
Noah held up the photo and tapped it. "This band on her wrist. Was that a gift from her niece Kayla?"
The officer shook his head. "I doubt it. That's her design."
"I was told Kayla designed those," Noah pressed.
"She did," the officer confirmed. "Kayla was close to her aunt. Selena gave Kayla a job working for her. When her aunt died, Kayla took over the business to keep money coming in and her brand alive."
Noah's mind raced. "Did Selena sell these in a store, or was it only through the cultural center?"
"Ten years ago? I don’t know. But I do know she had a booth over at the fair off the reservation. More demand out there. Everyone on the res has someone who makes jewelry. The demand here isn't enough."
"What fair?"
"An annual Pow Wow held over in Massena."
"Massena?" Noah repeated, the pieces starting to fall into place.
The officer nodded, his brow creasing.
Noah's mind whirled with the implications. The timing of Emily Carter's death and the discovery of Kayla's aunt, the bracelets, the connection to Massena — it was all starting to make a twisted kind of sense. But questions stillremained: Who was Kayla dating in Massena? What connection, if any, did Selena have to Emily Carter? And where had Selena been for those months before her body was found?
"Noah," McKenzie's voice cut through his thoughts. Noah turned to see his partner approaching. "Oates said we can speak with Marcus now."
26
The interview room was a windowless box, its walls a dull shade of gray that seemed to absorb what little warmth the fluorescent lights overhead provided. A metal table, bolted to the floor, dominated the center of the room, flanked by three chairs — two on one side, one on the other. In the corner, a small red light blinked steadily on a security camera, its unblinking eye recording every moment.
As Noah and McKenzie entered, their eyes were immediately drawn to the figure seated across the table. Marcus Rivers sat hunched forward, his wrists bound by handcuffs that clinked softly against the metal surface. His long, dark hair hung in unkempt strands around his face, partially obscuring eyes that darted between the two detectives with a mix of wariness and defiance.
To the left, a large one-way mirror reflected the room, but Noah knew that Detective Oates was likely standing just on the other side, watching their every move. Theknowledge added an extra layer of tension to an already charged atmosphere.
Noah took a seat across from Marcus, the chair scraping loudly against the concrete floor. McKenzie opted to remain standing, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, his posture casual but his eyes alert.
In his hands, Noah held a file containing Marcus' rap sheet. It painted a picture of a man with a troubled past — convictions for breaking-and-entering, theft, bodily harm, and a few minor felonies that had seen him incarcerated for a couple of years. The file also contained Marcus' current statement to Oates, denying any involvement in the fire at Jacob Moon's trailer and refuting the accusations of holding Jacob's sister captive, despite her testimony to the contrary.
"You feds?" Marcus asked, his voice rough with a mix of exhaustion and suspicion.
Noah showed his ID. "State and County."
Marcus' brow furrowed. "I thought..."
"We're here on behalf of the feds," Noah clarified. "Look, my name is Noah Sutherland."
Marcus leaned back in his chair, the handcuffs rattling. "Save it. I don't give a shit about you or your pal here," he spat, eyeing McKenzie with the same look of disdain. "I've already given my statement about the fire and Jacob's sister. I don't have anything else to say."
Noah's voice remained calm, measured. "We're here to talk about Kayla Bravebird."
He placed a photo of Kayla in front of Marcus. Noah watched intently, knowing that a person's reaction to aphoto could reveal volumes. There wasn't a science to it, but years of dealing with perpetrators of all kinds had honed his instincts. It was hard to cover a lie completely — some would linger on the image, others would look away. Some might close their eyes, while others might show a quickening pulse in their neck. Fidgeting was common, a sign of discomfort at the sight of someone they'd wronged. And in some cases, there might even be a smile, a look of excitement as if reliving a hidden fantasy.
Marcus' reaction was guarded, but Noah caught the slight tightening around his eyes. "I don't know her," Marcus said flatly.
"That's not what people tell us," Noah pressed.
"People are full of shit."
