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His gaze shifted from his captive to the vast, dark sky above them. He seemed almost hypnotized by the inky expanse, as if he were waiting for something. The desert air hung heavy with the scent of imminent rain, and far off in the distance, the faint rumble of thunder resonated through the desolate landscape.
“The rain is coming,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “It will be here soon.”
“Wh-what happens when it rains?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
“Ah, the rain,” he murmured. “It brings life, doesn’t it? And yet, it can also wash away the old, making way for the new.”
“Please, if you have any humanity left in you, let me go,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steadily increasing wind. “I-I promise I won’t tell anyone about this.”
The man merely shook his head, his eyes never leaving the stormy sky. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he replied, and he could tell his words chilled her to the core. “You see, some things are simply meant to be washed away. Most people underestimate the power of the rain,” the man mused, as he drew a large hunting knife from a sheath. He ignored the woman’s question, instead focusing on the sharp blade in his hands. With a practiced motion, he began to sharpen it against a rock, his eyes never leaving her face.
The rhythmic sound of metal scraping against stone caused her to flinch with every stroke.
His face remained impassive, betraying no hint of emotion.
“Rain has a way of purging the earth, you know,” he said softly, his voice barely audible above the wind that had begun to howl around them. “It washes away the sins of the past, leaving only purity behind.”
She whimpered, but it was as if he heard words. As if he thought she’d asked him a question, though she hadn’t said a word.
He tilted his head briefly.
“Imagined?” he whispered. “I assure you, my dear, our sins are all too real. And soon, the rain will come, and we shall both be cleansed.”
As he continued to methodically sharpen the knife, the clouds rolled in, dark across the sky.
Time was running out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rachel leaned against the cold brick wall, her breath forming a misty cloud in the crisp night air. It often surprised people how chilly it could get near the desert. The moon cast a silvery glow over the narrow alleyway, casting long shadows that seemed to dance and sway with each gust of wind. She glanced at Ethan, who stood a few feet away from her, his tall frame hunched as he kept watch for any sign of the tattooed pimp they’d been tracking. They both wore plain clothes, blending seamlessly into the dark corners of the city.
They’d been waiting for the last few hours after placing the call through the website.
And now, Rachel was finding it difficult to keep her mind occupied.
As she stood there, inhaling the musty scent of the dank alley, her thoughts drifted to the conversation she had with Aunt Sarah. Her aunt’s words still echoed in her mind, bringing up painful memories of her parents’ unsolved murders. Rachel clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. No, she couldn’t afford to be distracted now. She had to focus on the case at hand.
“Help me set this up,” Rachel whispered to Ethan, motioning to a thin string and some empty cans she’d gathered. Together, they rigged the makeshift alarm system—a bush trap Sarah had once taught her—in the mouth of the alley. If their target walked into the string, the cans would tumble, alerting them to his presence. Rachel would have to stay out of sight, so the sound of the cans would alert her to come to Ethan’s aid.
Ethan was playing the john.
With the trap in place, Rachel slunk back toward the large, graffiti-covered dumpster, its foul stench making her nose wrinkle.
The alley was littered with the detritus of urban life—broken bottles, discarded newspapers, and the occasional rat scurrying across the cracked pavement. A single flickering streetlamp struggled to illuminate the space, creating an eerie atmosphere that sent shivers down Rachel’s spine.
“Remember, we need him alive,” Rachel murmured to Ethan, her eyes scanning the entrance of the alley for any sign of movement.
“I… that wasn’t even a consideration,” Ethan replied. He tensed. “You don’t think we’ll have to shoot, do you?”
“No. You should be fine.”
“Thanks. Thanks, I feel very reassured.”
She nodded once and her fingers tightened around the handle of her gun, the metal cool and reassuring in her grip. She lowered the brim of her hat to prevent it from sticking up and over the dumpster where she hid. Two wooden pallets also obscured her view of the mouth of the alley.
Ethan lingered under the fire escape, also out of sight. They needed the pimp to come further into the alley. Closer to them, so he couldn’t escape.
But this also meant they couldn’t keep eyes on the entrance.
