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For a moment, the only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire, the whisper of the wind, and the faint rustle of leaves in the distance.
Rachel felt like a puppet with her strings cut, and she navigated the tension by taking a step back and glaring at her aunt. She could feel the blood staining the corner of her lips.
Aunt Sarah held her ground. She said, "If you could, you would have. You haven't. You're the same stubborn girl I've always known. You're not nearly as clever as you think you are."
Rachel just stared at her aunt. Then, inhaling slowly, shakily, aware that she'd spent a lifetime under Sarah's roof learning to suppress her emotions, she said, tight-lipped, "Apologies, but I think we have to go."
Without another glance back, she turned on her booted heel, marching back towards their car.
She hadn't realized it at the time, but she'd left the engine running, as if a part of her had known it wasn't going to be a long stay.
She heard Ethan hastily apologizing for departing so soon, and noticed him, out of the corner of her eye, stop by the spigot next to the house to wash his hands before bounding after her.
She didn't turn back.
And her aunt didn't call out.
Rachel knew that it might've looked like an overreaction.
But she was through being manipulated. Through being used like a pawn.
She scowled, marching towards the idling vehicle.
Once they were out of earshot, Ethan said, "Are you okay?"
"Fine."
"You sure."
"I said fine, Morgan."
He went quiet.
She slipped into the driver's side, her foot etching to press the pedal to the metal.
"We need some sleep," she said simply, before he could address the issue at hand. "And we need to make more calls. Figure out if any local military bases can fill us in on dishonorable discharges."
Ethan just listened, nodding as he shut his own door.
She focused determinedly on the case, refusing to address what had just transpired. She said, "Someone with a vendetta against people in uniform is on the hunt. Someone who's a professional. We need to find him, Ethan."
"We will."
"I know."
"We will," he said, more firmly.
She looked at him. "I know..." she trailed off, though.
Ethan's gaze wasn't the cold, demanding look she had seen in her aunt's eyes. But one of trust. He believed her when she said.
"We will," he repeated.
She just nodded and put the car in gear.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rachel had barely slept in the motel, and so the early morning hours found her back at the precinct, hunched over a desk, and refusing the alure of rest.
