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Kacey nodded, the movement stiff, robotic. "Yeah, it was her go-to spot. She'd bring back smoothies for everyone after her morning workout."
Fiona's gaze met Jake's, a wordless communication passing between them. The weight of the discovery pressed against her chest, intensifying the urgency thrumming through her veins. Their suspect had left a trail, faint but discernible, leading back to Power Juice.
Jake focused on Kasey. “Did Erica ever mention the manager at that bar? A man named Victor Harmon?”
Kasey thought on it. “I don’t think so… why? Could it be relevant?”
“Maybe,” Jake said. “Thank you for your time, Kasey. We’ll be back if we have any other questions.”
“I just hope you find out who did this,” Kasey said.
As they left the gym, the hum of activity faded into the background, eclipsed by the silent echo of their synchronized footsteps. With each step, Fiona felt the pieces of the puzzle jostling into place. The man with the cap, the orb-weaver spiders, the smoothie bar—it all had to mean something.
And right now, it looked like everything was pointing back toward their first suspect: Victor Harmon.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fiona pushed open the door to Power Juice, the colorful logo splashing across the glass as they entered. The midday sun streamed through the wide windows, casting a warm glow over the vibrant hues of the interior—turquoise walls decorated with posters of fruit and health slogans, the gleaming silver countertops dotted with blenders and cups. It was surprisingly quiet for lunchtime, with only a few patrons sipping their drinks in silence.
She spotted Marcus immediately, the mop in his hand swishing against the floor, cleaning up a spill behind the counter. His shoulders hunched, his movements slow and deliberate, a stark contrast to the lively setting around him. The bright sunlight seemed to avoid him, leaving his expression shadowed, an island of melancholy in the cheerful space.
"Red," Jake whispered, nudging her forward. They moved toward Marcus, their steps muffled by the ambient hum of refrigerators.
"Hey, Marcus," Fiona called out gently, not wanting to startle him further. But as Marcus turned, his eyes widened, betraying surprise—or was it fear? He straightened, gripping the mop handle like a lifeline.
"Agents... back again?" His voice cracked slightly, his gaze darting away from theirs.
"Is Victor in today?" Fiona asked, trying to sound casual. She watched Marcus closely, her training kicking in, noting the beads of sweat on his brow despite the coolness of the bar.
"Uh, no... he's off today." Marcus's reply came quick, too quick. His eyes shifted back and forth between Fiona and Jake, and she could see his hands tremble.
"Everything okay, Marcus?” Jake probed further.
"Fine, just fine," Marcus stammered, yet his shaky hands betrayed his words. "It's just been a slow day, you know?" But the lie hung heavy in the air, as tangible as the scent of fresh fruit and protein powder that permeated the shop.
Fiona exchanged a glance with Jake, sensing there was more to Marcus's nervousness than a simple slow business day. They had to tread carefully; whoever had killed those women might be connected to this place, to Marcus, or even to Victor Harmon himself. And if Marcus knew something, they needed him to trust them enough to reveal it.
Fiona's gaze locked on Marcus, the faint tremor in his hands not lost on her. "Marcus," Jake began, his tone firm yet not unkind, "can we talk in private for a moment?"
Marcus glanced at the few scattered patrons before nodding. He called over his shoulder, signaling a coworker with an apron as vibrant as the fruit displayed on the counter. The coworker took Marcus's place, easing into the routine of blending and serving without missing a beat.
Together, they retreated to the breakroom—pale in comparison to Power Juice's colorful front. The room was cramped, the hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, and the walls were plastered with employee schedules and food safety posters. Fiona stood near the door as Jake leaned against a table that had seen better days.
"Marcus, this is important," Jake said, pulling out a photograph from his jacket pocket. It was a picture of Erica Silverman, her eyes bright and demeanor strong. He held it up. "Have you seen her here before?"
Marcus wiped his palms on his pants before taking the photo. His fingers brushed against the glossy surface as he studied it. Fiona watched his face, searching for any flicker of recognition or deceit. "Yes," he admitted after a heavy pause, "she's been in a couple of times."
"Think hard, Marcus. Anything unusual about her visits?" Fiona asked, her voice steady.
“No?” Marcus’s hands were trembling, the photo of Erica Silverman slipping slightly as he tried to hold it steady. Fiona noticed the quiver in his grip and the anxious darting of his eyes.
"You seem on edge, Marcus," Jake observed, his voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel.
Marcus glanced up at them, then down at his shoes, the clean lines of the breakroom suddenly suffocating. "I... I can't lose this job," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth like rocks in an avalanche. "Victor—he wasn’t with us the whole night. I lied."
Fiona felt her pulse quicken, the confession hitting her with the force of a physical blow. Beside her, Jake stiffened, his shock palpable even without a word spoken.
"Marcus, you need to explain," Jake demanded, steel edging his tone. "Why lie for Victor?"
