AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The Taurus loomed at odd angles, its steel body marred with the violence of impact. A second vehicle, a compact sedan, bore its own battle scars—a crumpled rear quarter panel and paint scraped away in long, anguishing streaks. The two vehicles huddled together in the desolation, an accidental monument to chaos.
"Look at that," Ethan said, pointing at the rubber skid marks dark against the gravel. "They didn't just park here."
Rachel's eyes traced the black lines to where they danced around each other, a macabre tango ending in the embrace of twisted metal. She circled the cars, her boots crunching on the loose stones, noting the glass fragments winking like morbid confetti under the Texan sun.
"Must've been quite the shunt," she mused.
"Enough to leave them both sitting here like forgotten toys," Ethan added, his voice tinged with a detective's curiosity.
Rachel leaned in closer, peering through the dusty windows. The interiors were empty. No clues beckoned, no easy answers whispered from the cavernous spaces.
"Dispatch, this is Ranger Blackwood," she radioed in, her request slicing through the static. "I need an ID on the second vehicle's registration, over."
"Stand by, Ranger Blackwood," came the crackling reply as Rachel rattled off the license plate.
She withdrew, her gaze lingering on the Taurus. It belonged to Jack's nephew, a man cornered by his own mind's treachery. But the sedan? Who did it carry into this desolate tableau?
"Ranger Blackwood," Dispatch cut through the thick air, "the sedan is registered to a Jane Earlmire—reported missing by her husband a few hours ago."
Ethan whistled lowly beside her, "A missing woman..."
Rachel's chest tightened.
"Missing..." She let the word hang between them, a specter of urgency yet unspoken.
Ethan's gaze met Rachel’s, a silent communication passing between them. She nodded, the urgency building within her like a storm. "We need to find them. Now."
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Rachel's gaze searched the horizon, trying to make sense of where Elroy and his victim had disappeared too. Jane's car had clearly been impacted by Elroy's... but how?
What made him choose her?
She was missing something... and time was not on her side.
Ethan nudged her suddenly, and she glanced over to see him holding out his phone. On it, there was a clip of Chief Whitehorse lambasting the police and their slow response. She frowned at the comments near the top, and pushed Ethan's hand away.
"Going to bring the boss down on us," Ethan said. "And I don't mean Graywolf. I mean the big guy, upstairs."
"God?" she said.
Ethan snorted, lowering his phone. "That was almost a joke, Rachel. But I'm talking about the director."
Her eyes scanned the desolation, taking in the shards of glass that glittered like stars against the parched earth. Then she began to move, and Ethan fell into step, going quiet.
She pushed aside thoughts of the video on the phone. There was no point in letting it linger. Whitehorse was angry--nothing else was new. Her phone was buzzing, and she wondered if Ethan was right. Was the director calling?
She didn't even check.
She could feel the clock continuing to tick.
Together, they approached the ghost of Elroy's car. The door hung open, an empty eye socket gazing blindly at the churning sky. Rachel's hand swept over the textured leather of the backseat, her touch deliberately light as fingertips grazed something foreign—a knife sheath, aged and empty, its dark leather stark against the tan interior.
"Found something," she called, her words clipped.
"Careful," Ethan warned from the other side, peering in through the absent window.
She held up the sheath for him to see, her jaw set with determination. The absence of the blade spoke volumes, whispering of threats made flesh.
