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"Catherine," he said, almost gently. "Look at me."
She let out a faint whimper. "Jeb... Jeb's just behind me," she said.
"No, dear, your husband is still out, harassing the Texas Rangers. You and I are alone."
He saw the way her shoulders tensed. Saw the fear shiver down her spine.
He stared at her, with pity, with a cold calculating pity. "it will be over... Don't fear."
"If Jeb finds you in here..."
Jebediah Clark. A firecracker... Not one to be culled.
He loved his wife...
The predator wondered what Jeb would do when he found out what had happened.
He allowed himself a small smile of anticipation.
And then Catherine tried to bolt, her skirt tripping up her efforts as she darted towards the stairs. He reached out, snatching her ponytail. She screamed.
He laughed.
It was all over so quickly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rachel and Ethan stepped out of their car, feeling the weight of wary eyes on them. They had arrived at the second crime scene located even deeper on the Clark's land. Now, they stood at the base of an incline behind an old, red barn with peeling paint and missing boards.
The scent of manure and mulch lingered heavily with decaying grass clippings which had been left too long in piles behind the barn.
Besides the odors, the air was heavy with suspicion and tension, as if the locals could sense the intrusive nature of their investigation.
She could feel eyes watching her from the porch of the small white house at the top of a hill. She didn't know who lived in that particular home.
But Jebediah Clark had followed them along with a younger boy--the kid couldn't have been much older than fourteen, but he shared his father's mean eyes, and leaned against the wooden boards of the barn next to Jeb.
Rachel glanced around, taking in the lay of the land - the vast expanse of open pastures, the clusters of ancient oak trees dotting the landscape, and the brooding sky overhead.
"Seems like we're not exactly welcomed here," Ethan remarked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was looking towards the porch of the white house, where a woman and a man stood with rifles in hand, staring down at them.
The rifles weren't aimed, but were certainly visible.
"Can't say I blame them," Rachel replied, adjusting her jacket against the chilly breeze. "We did just arrest one of their own."
"Tom shot a guy."
"Let's hope we're not next."
As they approached the area cordoned off by yellow police tape, Jebediah Clark spat off to the ground, watching them closely from where he was standing nearby. He leaned against a wooden board with more mold than wood, arms folded across his chest, his steely gaze locked onto them. His silence spoke volumes.
Family and land meant everything to these folk. And their roots went as deep as the sins staining the earth.
"Mr. Clark," Rachel called out, forcing a polite smile. "Sorry to intrude on your property again."
Jebediah merely grunted in response, his expression unchanging.
"Y'all best be careful where you step," Jebediah warned, his voice low and gravelly. "Wouldn't want you messing up any evidence or whatnot." He peered at them, then back towards the road. "Where's the man that belongs to that truck?"
