Page 34 of Not This Night

"We need to find this guy fast," Rachel muttered, her gaze cutting through the flickering crime scene lights. She walked over to the surrounding area, where tufts of burnt grass were still smoking, small licks of flames dancing in the darkness.

She paced around the smoldering police car, knee sinking into slightly damp soil as she bent closer to inspect the ground.

"Photograph here," she called. No, please. No, thank you. Just direct.

Rachel's boots crunched on scorched earth as she approached the forensics tent. The night air, thick with acrid smoke, did little to mask the sharp tang of gasoline. She ducked under the yellow tape.

"Talk to me about the accelerant," she said, voice cutting through the hush that enveloped the team huddled around the blackened skeleton of the police cruiser.

A tech in blue gloves held up a charred glass bottle, remnants of a liquid still sloshing inside. "Standard petrol mix," he replied.

She leaned in, studying the bottle.

“What’s that?” she asked.

His eyes cast down towards a stained portion of the glass. “Oh… umm, charred label tape? Glue?”

“I think it’s paint,” said another.

"Paint?" Rachel echoed, peering closer at the dried, burnt flecks. A forensic puzzle piece falling into place. Paint…

It tickled at her mind.

Hadn’t Scott Hawkeye been known for vandalism? With the two initial victims, Heather Sinclair and Jenna Amos…

And now…

Now paint on the murder weapon. The same type of paint used in the vandalism? She couldn’t know that. Not yet. But it troubled her all the same.

She moved from one portion of the scene to the next, hastening like a pinball between bumpers. She couldn’t stop. And the killer wouldn’t either. That much was clear. Three dead. Two in critical condition, cops caught up as collateral with no hesitation.

This was a madman, and there was no saying where he’d strike next.

Rachel spotted Ethan and gestured at him.

“What is it?”

"Paint," she said, her voice low. "On the fragments of the Molotov."

“Paint?”

“Yeah. And when I stopped at Hawkeye’s parole officer, he said he knew Scott.”

“Right.”

“No, hang on. He knew him a decade and a half ago. Said Scott was running with Jenna and Heather.”

“Wait, hang on, what?”

“Said the three of them were friends. And there were a couple of others in that group.”

Ethan just stared at her, his eyes flaring for a moment as the connection took root. “What are the odds of that?” he murmured. “Why didn’t Scott tell us?”

“Maybe he’s involved.”

“His alibi, though?”

Rachel shook her head. “It checked out.”

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