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She couldn't linger. She needed tomove.
"She's dead, Jeb!" shouted Ethan. "I'm sorry for your loss, but getting yourself shot over it isn't going to help anything! Think about your dad!"
"Shut up!" shouted Jeb. "Just... just shut up!"
Ethan glanced back at her now. Rachel was pointing towards the exit and tapping her wrist. No time. A killer was out there. She didn't have the time to talk down a few drunk idiots. Shooting them wouldn't have taken much time, but clearly that wasn't Ethan's play.
He wanted to talk it out.
And while she admired his restraint, she couldn't wait.
Ethan gave her a quick thumbs up and a shooing motion towards the door, as if giving permission, or perhaps just sayingI've got this.
She mouthed, "Be careful."
And he flashed a wink and another thumbs up.
Then, Rachel began slinking towards the door, crawling on her forearms and keeping low.
Rachel slipped out of the door and into the cool night air of the alley. She felt a rush of relief wash over her as she made a beeline for her car. She had to get away from the police station, from Jeb Clark and his friends.
It was a bold call, and she knew it.
In almost any other situation, she might have made a different choice.
But for one, the police outnumbered Jeb and his goons. For another, Jeb was using small caliber bullets. He was trying to scare them... not kill them. At least, so she hoped.
But finally, if Dr. Caldwell was the killer,someonehad to stop him.
Her hands were tense, but as she slid into the driver's seat of her car, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Her hands were shaking slightly as she started the engine and pulled out of the rear lot. For now, the gunfire had subsided.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, placing it on the seat next to her and searching for Caldwell's address.
It was the first result from his DMV file.
She frowned at the seat next to her, logging the directions, and then putting on a burst of speed, racing away from the precinct, the gunfight, and off--very much alone--into the unknown to face a killer.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Rachel pulled to a screeching stop at the end of a driveway with a rooster-shaped mailbox facing a cobbled road.
Another back country road, but this time, the lawns were well-manicured, and the house at the end of the drive, about a quarter mile from her, looked more like an estate than another backwoods bunker.
Rachel took a deep breath and stepped out of her car, eyeing the large, imposing house at the end of the drive. She checked her gun, making sure it was loaded and ready to go. She couldn't shake off the feeling that Dr. Caldwell was inside, waiting for her.
She walked slowly up the drive, trying to keep quiet, but the crunch of the gravel beneath her feet seemed to echo loudly in the stillness of the night. She approached the front door, and her hand grazed the doorknob, but she hesitated.
What if he wasn't inside? What if she was wrong?
She tried the door.
Locked.
So she circled around the house. People that lived out in the country often left their doors unlocked.
A sense of safety and community...
Now, she hoped Caldwell wasn't as paranoid as most serial killers.
