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She sighed. She'd have to find an excuse one way or another. Dawes, Kai, and now her aunt... good ol' home sweet home.
Rachel pocketed her phone, her mind cycling through possible outcomes of this added complication. She would go, sift through pleasantries, dodge probing questions. And leave, ideally without revealing anything about the case or her own unraveled edges. Or... she might just not go.
The morning sun was a pale disc in the overcast sky, casting a diffused light on the motel's peeling paint. The unmarked sedan squatted in the shade of a solitary pine, its silhouette non-committal among the line-up of transient vehicles.
As Ethan pulled out of the parking lot, Rachel frowned.
"What's that?"
He glanced down at where his phone rested on his lap. "Oh, just a bulletin."
"What bulletin?"
"Two missing cops."
She frowned, staring at Ethan. "How's that?"
"Two cops went missing from the local PD yesterday. Didn't show up for work." Ethan shrugged. "Two guys that were in the scuffle with Kai."
Rachel frowned. "You sound nonchalant about missing cops."
Ethan shook his head. He turned the phone so she could see.
As she scrolled down, she noticed more than one complaint about the scent of alcohol. A filed charge for a domestic that hadn't gone anywhere.
"They're likely just blowing off steam," Ethan said, tight-lipped. "Having some fun after a stressful day."
"You don't sound too pleased by the thought."
Ethan just shook his head. "I've known drunks. They're assholes."
Rachel glanced at the photos of the two missing officers. She wasn't as confident as Ethan that it was some harmless thing, but she could only focus on one case at a time. There was no saying these two going missing had anything to do with the backroad sniper.
They drove in silence, the towns heartbeat audible in the thrumming of tires on tarmac.
The gas station loomed ahead, a beacon of neon against the sprawling Texas morning. Rachel's eyes darted from the faded sign to a lone trailer parked at the far end of the lot, its silhouette squatting.
"Looks like that's our rendezvous," Ethan observed, his voice low as they pulled in.
"Stay sharp," she replied tersely, her hand instinctively resting on her sidearm beneath her jacket as she stepped out of the unmarked sedan.
Gravel crunched underfoot, the sound crisp in the cooling air. She approached the trailer with deliberate steps, her posture exuding an authority honed by years of navigating a world that didn't always welcome her presence.
Ethan followed a step behind, his senses dialed to the subtlest cues of trouble. Rachel rapped sharply on the metal door, her knuckles echoing a staccato rhythm.
"Who is it?" A woman's voice, tinged with caution, filtered through the thin aluminum.
"Texas Rangers," Rachel announced firmly, "We're here to talk."
The door creaked open, and Rachel entered without hesitation. The trailer was scantily lit, shadows clinging to the corners like cobwebs. Four women sat huddled together on a makeshift couch, their faces etched with the fatigue of life lived on the fringes.
Rachel's gaze flicked over them, assessing, before landing on the man in the room. He leaned against the counter, arms folded, an unreadable expression etched onto his weathered face. His presence set off silent alarms in her mind, the way a predator's scent might alert prey.
"Didn't know we'd have company," she said, her words clipped as she clocked the bulge under his shirt—the unmistakable outline of a gun.
"Insurance," he grunted, his eyes not leaving Rachel's.
"Let's keep this friendly," she countered, her tone even but edged with steel. "We're just here for information."
