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Which meant the killer was still out there.
"We need to get out of here, Rachel," Ethan said firmly.
"It's a crime scene.
"Now! Jeb finds us here, it's a shootout. A bloodbath."
"It's a crime scene," she repeated more firmly. "Call in backup."
"Rachel!"
"Do it!" she retorted.
The tension in the room stretched between them. Ethan shook his head, muttering to himself as Rachel returned her attention to the corpse.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him withdraw his phone to place the call.
Meanwhile, she lowered slowly, staring at the lifeless eyes of their third victim.
Three dead women.
And they were no closer.
And yet, somehow... Rachel frowned, peering through the window behind them...
Somehow, she felt as if they were being watched at this very moment.
Something...dark...lurked out in the trees.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rachel had never felt so exposed at a crime scene before. But she'd refused to retreat, and now, standing amidst the chaos of flashing lights, police vehicles and coroner vans, she wondered if she'd made the right choice.
The crisp air bore the scent of damp leaves as Rachel stood outside the dilapidated ranch house, her breath visible in the cold evening light. A shiver ran down her spine as she surveyed the crime scene, her eyes lingering on the broken front door hanging from its hinges like a wounded animal. The once-charming building looked sinister now, its weathered paint peeling off like dead skin, revealing the rotten wood beneath.
Though a good number of people were watching, it was the one whowasn'tthat caused her concern. There was no sign of Jebediah Clark. His wife had been killed... but he wasn't here.
She scanned the area for any sign of the man who owned this place. His wife had been found murdered inside, her body lying lifeless on the cold floor. Rachel swallowed hard, trying to push aside the gruesome image of the woman's pale, cold face.
"Still no sign of him," replied Ethan, his voice tinged with concern. He glanced at Rachel. "You think he's going to cause problems?"
Rachel nodded, folding her arms tightly across her chest. She couldn't help but feel uneasy about his absence, knowing all too well that Silas Clark, Jeb's father, and the rest of their clan were capable of causing significant trouble. The additional law enforcement personnel surrounding the scene was both reassuring and alarming – a testament to the Clarks' notorious reputation.
"Me too," Ethan admitted, his gaze drifting towards the house.
"Right," Rachel agreed, mentally preparing herself to step back into the sinister embrace of the ranch house. As they approached the entrance, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation bearing down on her. The air seemed thicker, heavier with the knowledge of the horrors that lay within those walls.
A sharp gust of wind cut through the trees, causing Rachel to shiver as she stepped aside, allowing a forensic tech to move past her. The crime scene was now swarming with officers and forensic technicians, but her eyes were instantly drawn to a makeshift barricade of sawhorses near the edge of the property.
She nudged Ethan, nodding in that direction.
He went still as the two of them stood by the old wooden railing. Behind the sawhorse, Silas Clark stood like an ominous sentinel, flanked by his armed relatives. Their eyes bore into the investigators, scrutinizing every movement.
"He looks like trouble," Rachel muttered under her breath, feeling the weight of Silas' piercing gaze on her. She tried to focus on the task at hand but couldn't shake the discomfort gnawing at her insides.
"Let him watch," Ethan said, his voice hardening. "We're doing our jobs, and we won't be intimidated by him or his family."
As if on cue, Silas barked an order to one of his sons. The young man scurried away, shouldering his rifle as he disappeared behind the house.
