Page 49 of Not This Night

"No comment," was Ethan's curt response as they pushed through the gathering crowd. Under his breath, he muttered, "Sure as hell didn't do as good a job keeping the press out as they did keeping us out."

The mansion across the street loomed in the darkness, an imposing silhouette broken only by the faint glow of a single upstairs light. Bethany Meyers, the elusive lizard lady. Rachel studied the building, her sharp eyes turning up to catch sight of a curtain, twitching shut.

She turned to Ethan, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Let's pay our neighbor a visit."

They crossed the road under the harsh glare of streetlights, their boots echoing against the empty night. A chill ran up Rachel's spine, her senses prickling with anticipation. Ethan seemed to sense it too; his gaze flickered nervously to the mansion.

They needed the neighbor to have seen something.

Needed information. The killer had dragged them halfway across the state.

The timeline was different, though. “The last bodies we found were his first victims,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“The order is off.”

“What do you mean?”

“We found Heather first. Then we found Jenna, but Jenna was killed first. Then Scott was killed.”

“And now we find Miguel and Lucy.”

“Exactly.”

Ethan frowned, glancing over at her, his hazel eyes looking dark in the moonlight. “Is that important?”

“I don’t know yet. But I feel like we’re out of rhythm. I just need to find out what we’re missing.”

They both ducked their heads as more cameras jutted over the dividers blocking the cul-de-sac road, and Rachel tipped her hat, hiding her face, as she kept her gaze fixated on Bethany Meyers’ enormous home.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Gravel crunched underfoot as Rachel Blackwood and Ethan Morgan closed the distance to the mansion's imposing front door. The estate loomed ahead, its grandeur stark against the Texas sky, yet uninviting in its silence.

The house itself was immaculate, the garden doubly so. Like always, Rachel liked to examine a creature’s habitat before encountering the creature itself. And in this case, the initial impression was clear: Bethany Meyers had an eye for detail.

Even in the dim light, the mansion's exterior was a testament to precision. The Victorian architecture hinted at a bygone era, yet its upkeep suggested a certain measure of timeless vigilance. The white marble façade gleamed dully under the faint glow of scattered street lamps, and each embellished window displayed meticulously coifed curtains.

The garden was equally pristine, manicured with an artistic flourish that whispered art over nature. Red roses were pruned to near-perfection, their stark crimson blossom conspicuously against the dark greens of neatly trimmed hedges. A cobblestone path curved through the front yard, leading to a large antique fountain that centered the garden with its regal presence.

But what held Rachel's attention most was not the resplendent aesthetics or the calculated symmetry of it all. No, what struck her was the apparent solitude. The mansion and its garden were wrapped in an uninviting stillness, a fortress-like isolation that seemed to ward off any unwelcome trespassers.

Suddenly, a sharp movement caught her eye. Rachel’s hand went to her hip, and she whirled around.

A large bird emerged from behind a trimmed hedge, a bird wearing a small, blinking black collar around its long neck.

“Is that… a peacock?” she whispered, relaxing.

Ethan chuckled. "Sure as hell is," he responded, shaking his head in disbelief. "This place is more like a zoo than a residence." He gestured to the statue of a lizard lazily sunning itself atop one of the hedges.

Rachel let out a small snort of laughter before turning her attention back to the house. The peacock, seemingly startled by their presence, let out an indignant squawk before strutting away, its colorful tail feathers shimmering under the dim streetlights.

Having reached the front door—a tall mahogany frame with a brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head—Rachel rapped her knuckles against it, listening to the echo resound within the house.

And they waited.

A rustling sound came as the green-eyed peacock strutted across the cobblestone path surrounding the small, ornamental fountain, its plumage catching faint moonlight and casting iridescent colors that danced along with its unhurried steps. Rachel watched as it disappeared into a grove of olive trees.

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