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But no... no, she was just being paranoid.
She slipped into the front seat of the truck as Ethan hopped into the back bed.
Tom joined them a second later, and they began to move, driving deeper into the dense wilderness surrounding the archaic ranches.
"Like I said," Tom said over his shoulder, "Jack is a dangerous man. You'd best shoot first and ask questions later."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft blue light on the dense forest surrounding Jack's cabin. The air was cold and crisp, carrying with it the distant howl of a wolf. Rachel, Ethan, and their guide pulled up to the clearing in front of the cabin, guided by the headlights of Tom's old truck. They killed the engine, apprehension gnawing at them as they stared at the small wooden structure before them.
"Doesn't look like much, does it?" Ethan muttered, his breath forming wispy clouds in the chilly night air.
"From what we've been told, Jack doesn't strike me as the type who cares about appearances." Rachel replied, her gaze fixed on the dark windows of the cabin. She shivered, remembering the warning they had received earlier.
"Alright," Rachel said, turning to face Tom. "We need you to stay here and keep an eye on the truck. We don't want to spook Jack if he's got something to hide."
"Are you kidding? I'm not staying out here alone," Tom protested, his eyes wide. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
"Look, we need you to hold down the fort. If Jack gets suspicious and tries to make a run for it, we'll need a quick exit," Rachel explained. She could see the frustration in his eyes. Did he want to confront Jack in person for a specific reason?
She wasn't sure what was going on here, but for now, he'd brought them to their target.
Ethan added, "Besides, you're familiar with these woods. You can alert us if something seems off."
Tom looked like he wanted to protest further, but Rachel was already slipping out of the truck. Ethan hopped out of the bed, and the two of them began striding together, shoulder to shoulder, up the leaf-strewn drive.
As they made their way towards the cabin, Rachel couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her gut. Every step seemed to echo loudly through the still night, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder more than once, half-expecting to see something lurking in the shadows.
"Stay on your toes," she whispered to Ethan, who nodded solemnly in response.
The heavy scent of pine and damp earth filled Rachel's nostrils as she knocked firmly on the cabin door. She glanced at Ethan, who was standing close by, his eyes alert and his hand resting near his holstered gun.
No answer.
Rachel knocked more firmly, her fist pounding against the door.
"Law enforcement. Rangers!" she called.
Still no reply.
She stepped back, glancing at the cold, dark windows. The house didn't look occupied.
A sudden creaking noise caused her heart to skip a beat.
She tensed, and the sound approached the door. She thought she heard muttering from within.
The door slowly opened to reveal a tall, burly man with unkempt hair and a beard that looked like it hadn't seen a razor in months. His eyes were piercing, but what truly caught Rachel's attention was the dark red blood that covered his hands and stained the front of his shirt.
"Who the hell are you two?" the man snarled, his voice gruff and suspicious.
"Jack Thompson?" Rachel asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the unsettling sight before her.
"That's me. What do you want?"
Rachel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the investigation pressing down on her. "I'm Rachel Blackwood, a Texas Ranger, and this is my partner, Ethan Morgan. We're here to ask you some questions about your wife, Sarah."
A flicker of surprise crossed Jack's face, but he quickly regained his composure. "Well, you caught me at a bad time. I was just skinning a deer out back." He gestured toward the garage. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."
