Chapter Twelve #2
“So,” she said, “since this was a business arrangement, I assume you filed taxes on the money.”
Rhett’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t answer.
“And of course,” she continued, “you would’ve reported it to the sheriff’s office at the time. You were still on the force when the payments started. Secondary employment requires disclosure.”
Rhett muttered another curse under his breath, more reflex than response, and shifted in his seat like the chair had suddenly grown spikes.
Beside him, Valerie Pike leaned in again, her voice a sharp whisper this time, low but urgent. Griff couldn’t catch the exact words, but the meaning was clear enough. Damage control.
Rhett didn’t look at her. Didn’t nod. Didn’t blink.
He was cornered, and he knew it. His so-called “consulting” gig just cracked wide open.
And now the question wasn’t just why Catherine had paid him.
It was what she’d been paying to keep quiet.
Griff leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His voice dropped, steady and cold.
“Start talking, Rhett. Right now.”
Rhett’s lawyer shifted in her seat, but Griff didn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him. He could see the sweat forming at Rhett’s temples, the way his mouth tightened like he was chewing on a thousand bad choices.
“You want me to tell you what this looks like?” Griff continued. “Because I can spell it out.”
He tapped the payment summary Lily had printed.
“Fifteen years of off-the-books payments from Catherine Langston. You didn’t report them to the IRS or your department. You didn’t file the paperwork for secondary employment. That’s tax fraud, at best. And at worst—”
He paused, letting the weight of it land.
“You’re looking at obstruction of justice. Misconduct in office. Misprision of a felony. Conspiracy. Maybe even aiding and abetting murder.”
Rhett cursed under his breath again, but Griff kept going.
“You tampered with the truth, Rhett. Maybe you buried it entirely. You helped send a man to prison for a crime we’re starting to think he didn’t commit. And the person who paid you to keep your mouth shut is dead.”
Rhett’s lawyer leaned in again, her voice firmer now. “Deputy Abrams, I’m advising my client not to respond to threats—”
“It’s not a threat,” Griff snapped, eyes still locked on Rhett. “It’s a list of the charges he could be facing if he doesn’t start explaining why he’s been pocketing hush money since the month after Hannah Cole was murdered.”
Silence settled in the room, heavy and strained.
Griff waited.
Lily waited.
And all that remained was whether Rhett Hale would finally crack… or dig the hole deeper.
Griff watched as Valerie Pike leaned in toward Rhett again, her whisper sharper this time, her expression a mix of damage control and warning. Rhett nodded once, jaw tight, and murmured something back. Whatever it was didn’t settle her.
She straightened, smoothing her blazer, the professional mask snapping back into place.
“My client,” she said carefully, “wishes to make a statement to show his cooperation with this investigation.”
But before she could say another word, Rhett burst out—
“I didn’t kill Hannah.”
Valerie’s head whipped toward him, but Rhett pushed forward, shoulders tight, eyes flashing with something between panic and defiance.
“Catherine started paying me the month before the murder,” he said. “That was all in cash. Quiet. Off the books.”
Griff didn’t speak. He just watched.
“I found out Everett was sleeping with Hannah,” Rhett went on, spitting out the words as if they burned. “Catherine didn’t want that getting out, especially with that land deal Everett was working on. She paid me to keep my mouth shut. Said it’d blow over.”
Lily was already scribbling the timeline on her notepad, lips pressed tight.
“So when did it stop being cash?” Griff asked.
Rhett shifted in his seat. “Shortly after the first payment. She said I’d ‘proven myself trustworthy’. Started cutting checks. Two grand a month.”
“And in fifteen years,” Griff said, voice low, “you never once thought to come forward.”
Rhett didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence said it all.
Griff didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Just watched Rhett like he was trying to see through him—and maybe he was. The man was finally cracking, but there was still too much he wasn’t saying.
Lily leaned in slightly, her tone controlled but sharp. “When did you find out about the affair? And how?”
Rhett gave her a bitter laugh. “A month before the murder. I walked in on them. After hours, at the dealership. Everett had a key to the back office, and they must’ve thought no one was around. I saw him with her. Hannah. On his desk.”
Lily’s expression didn’t change, but Griff could see the disgust flicker behind her eyes. “And you went straight to Catherine?” she asked.
Rhett snorted. “Yeah. I figured she deserved to know her husband was fucking a teenager.”
Griff’s jaw tightened. “So you warned her out of… what? Chivalry?”
“I told her to rein him in,” Rhett muttered. “Told her Everett needed to be more careful. I wasn’t going to be the one cleaning up his mess when it blew back on the department. The whole town would’ve lost their minds if they found out.”
Griff didn’t buy a damn word of it. He kept his thoughts to himself, but inside, the conclusion was settling in fast. Rhett hadn’t gone to Catherine to warn her. He’d gone to leverage her.
And she paid.
Not for protection. Not for discretion. But for silence.
Griff shifted in his chair, his tone sharpening just enough to signal the change in direction. “Let’s talk about your whereabouts. Where were you at the time of Hannah Cole’s murder?” Griff asked.
Rhett’s jaw twitched. “To hell if I know. It was fifteen damn years ago. I didn’t exactly keep a diary.”
“Then where were you at the time of Catherine’s death?” Griff pressed.
Rhett sat up a little straighter. “At home. Working on a security proposal for a client. I was drafting it on my laptop. I can pull the computer logs if you want proof.”
Griff leaned back slightly. “I do. And the client’s contact info.”
Rhett’s face tightened for a beat, just a flicker, but it was enough. A flash of anger passed through his eyes before he nodded once, jerky and defensive.
His lawyer jumped in again, voice firm. “My client is cooperating in good faith. There are no grounds for charges at this time, and we expect that to be reflected in how this interview is handled going forward.”
Griff didn’t bother answering her directly. He looked at Rhett. “We’ll be turning over everything to the district attorney,” he said calmly. “Given what we’ve learned, charges are likely forthcoming. That’s not my call. It’s theirs.”
Rhett’s chair screeched as he shoved back from the table and got to his feet, fury practically radiating off him. “This is bullshit,” he snapped. “I gave you what you wanted.”
Then he stormed out of the room, his lawyer scrambling after him.
Griff didn’t move. He just watched the door swing closed.
One suspect down.
Two to go.
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