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"Exactly," Rachel said, her hands gripping the door handle. Her knuckles paled with the effort. She could almost feel the killer's eyes on them, a weight she couldn't shake off. "He can't resist."
Ethan's lips twisted into a semblance of a smile, but his eyes remained cold, focused. "And when he bites?"
"We reel him in." Her thumb caressed the butt of her gun, a habit born from too many close calls. "Hard and fast."
Silence settled between them, dense as the heat that vibrated off the asphalt. The engine hummed a low, persistent note, a soundtrack to their vigilance.
"Rachel?" Ethan's tone had softened, but the undercurrent of resolve was unmistakable.
She glanced at him, reading the question in his eyes before he voiced it. "I'm sure," she said, her conviction a solid thing in the void of uncertainty. "He won't be able to stay away. Not after what we found."
"Okay," Ethan breathed out, his grip relaxing ever so slightly. They'd been out here for hours, driving a red Cadillac that matched perfectly the vehicle involved in the shooting of Bardem's wife. It would work, it had to.
Today was the anniversary of her death--Bardem was planning something big... they had to distract him, to lure his attention towards them instead.
The sun lay heavy on the horizon, a molten smear against the Texas sky. The Cadillac's tires crunched over gravel as Rachel scanned the landscape, each pass revealing nothing new—until now.
"Stop the car," she said sharply, pointing to an anomaly just off the shoulder. A hauling trailer, rusted and alone, squatted beneath a mesquite tree's sparse shade.
Ethan eased off the gas, and the engine's growl dropped to a purr. "That wasn't there twenty minutes ago."
"No hauling vehicle nearby," Rachel replied, her voice flat, eyes locked on the trailer. "Only a few miles from the rez police station."
"Shit, you don't think he's going after them, do you?"
"Anyone could be a target. We just gotta stop him before he strikes."
Ethan parked the Cadillac at an angle, keys jangling as he pulled them from the ignition. Dust swirled around the tires; it tasted like grit on her tongue through the gap in the open window which attempted to coax a breeze.
"Think it's related?" Ethan asked, thumbing the release on his seatbelt.
"Can't know until we check." Her hand found the door handle, cool metal under her fingers—a small comfort.
"Be careful, Rach." Concern flickered in Ethan's gaze, but she was already stepping out of the vehicle.
The ground was uneven. She approached the trailer, every sense straining. The air was still, too still. Her heart thumped a rhythm of readiness against her ribs. Boots whispered across the dirt, methodical and silent.
"Looks abandoned," Ethan called softly, trailing behind her.
"Looks can deceive." Her reply was terse, the moment stretching tight between them.
Her hands hovered near her gun belt.
"Cover me," she said, not turning to see Ethan nod, knowing he would.
Stepping forward, she closed the gap between herself and the trailer, her shadow merging with its dark outline. Every creak of the metal underfoot was a dare, every whisper of wind a warning.
"Anything?" Ethan's question sliced through the silence.
She reached for the door, ready to unveil whatever lay hidden within.
Her breaths came shallow, eyes narrowing as they scanned from trailer to horizon and back again. Then, a flicker, something not right. Not dust. Not heat haze.
A glint.
"Wait." It left her lips as a hiss, her body tensing.
Ethan paused, half-turned, his profile etched with concern. "What is it?"
