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"Yes," he said quietly. "And you came."
No thank you, no sorry, just an acknowledgement of fact. He nodded once. "The children of this land are dying," he said simply. "Three have died."
"Three? You didn't say that on the phone."
He frowned. "I am saying it now."
"What were their names?"
Sheriff Dawes paused, his gaze unforgiving. "Anna Longshadow, Kendra Matter, and Remi Dawes."
She stared at him. "Remi died?"
He nodded once.
Remi was the name of one of Dawes' nieces. She'd been close to Kai. Rachel had gone to school with the girl.
She swallowed briefly. "Kendra Matter... I don't recognize that name."
"She was a truck driver. Passing through." His voice was void of emotion, as if the weight of those lives lost had stripped him of any sentiment.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," she said quietly. "I didn't know about Remi."
"You're here to find the killer, not to mourn the dead." The sheriff's eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her uneasy. "You have a lot to learn about this place," he said cryptically, before turning away. He pointed once more as he retreated to his vehicle. "The crime scene is that way. Coroner hasn't arrived yet."
Rachel clenched her fists, frustration mingling with grief.
Kai was reluctantly following his father, though shooting venomous glances back towards Ethan.
Ethan didn't look away, but allowed himself to be guided towards the crime scene.
Rachel and Ethan moved side by side along the stretch of road, past the parked vehicles. They arrived at an old, dry creek bed, and Rachel refused to look back.
People were just a distraction now. The land was going to have its say.
"Sorry about that," Ethan said as they were far enough he couldn't be heard. "I... I lost my head, I reckon."
"Thanks for having my back," she said simply. She patted him once on his flannel-covered shoulder, and then approached the creek bed.
There, on the side, she spotted two bodies.
The sun stood sentry behind the gnarled trees that lined the old, dry creek bed when Rachel's boots crunched on the parched earth. Beside her, Ethan mirrored her steps, his eyes scanning the desolate landscape. Ahead, two lifeless forms lay sprawled, their final postures eerily casual against the barren terrain.
"Shot," Rachel stated flatly, kneeling beside the nearest body, a woman with chestnut hair matted with blood and dust.
"Both of them?" Ethan asked.
"Looks like it." Her fingers, clad in latex, traced an invisible line around one of the wounds, noting its ragged edges. The scent of death was not new to her, but it clawed at her throat all the same.
"Through and through," she murmured, her analytical gaze flickering to the second victim, whose blonde strands tangled with the dead grass. "Clean exits."
"Could be anything then," Ethan offered, his brow furrowed as he watched her work. "Handgun, maybe?"
"Size doesn't fit," Rachel replied. "Exit wound is too large. Long range shot."
"Damn," Ethan exhaled, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck. "What's your take?"
"Can't say for sure yet." Rachel rose, peering down at the bodies with a practiced detachment. "We'll need ballistics."
