Rachel accompanied him into the room first, followed by Jack. As Jack was about to close the door, someone else rushed to stop him. It was Detective Branson, stopping in the doorway with an excited look on his face.

Promising? he asked them quietly.

Could be, Jack said.

The thing is, Rachel added, hes making us wait until his lawyer gets here before hell give us anything. But he has given us a name. Alberto Spears. Think you could run a background check for us?

Sure, Branson said. It was clear he knew the approach Rachel was taking. It was a process of applying intimidation without actually making any direct threats. You got an address?

Yeah, Jack said. He gave him the address his contact in DC had provided them with. He then turned back to Alberto, sitting at the table in the center of the room. The man looked a little spooked now, the direct and stubborn façade hed put on in the back of the car crumbling very fast. You sure you dont want to at least give us the bare details before I send this New York City detective to get your information? Its going to look much better on you in the end if you offer it willingly.

I dont even know what the hell you want, man!

We have four bodies on our hands, Rachel said. And when we pulled their phone records, your unlisted number was on them. This was stretching the truth a bit, she knew. It was only confirmed that the number had been on two of the records; she was hoping he might trip himself up and admit to more than they already had.

I dont know anything about that.

The deaths looked like suicides, Rachel said. Does that help?

Alberto said nothing, but he went pale. Behind them, perhaps sensing that the agents had the situation covered, Branson started to close the door. Before he left, though, he added: Just let me know if you need that background check run. I can have it in ten minutes.

Thanks, Detective, Jack said. Oh, and that other thing I texted you about earlier. Where are we with that?

Oh, its going down right now. We should know something soon.

Rachel found herself almost having to bite back a smile. Branson seemed hands off for the most part but the little hidden messages being shot back and forth between them was pretty remarkable.

Once the door was closed, Alberto Spears looked even more frightened. Im not talking. I want to call my lawyer.

Sure, Rachel said. But again, I have to stress, this does not look good on you, Mr. Spears. The more information you have for us and willingly give us, the better it will be for you later.

There is no later, he said, but his voice was thin and wavering. Ive done nothing wrong.

Do you know men named Edwin Newkirk or Joseph Staunton? Rachel asked.