Page 26 of Not This Place

Rachel pocketed her phone, the weight of it like lead against her thigh.

She stood alone on the dust-pocked road, the tranquility of the Texas landscape a stark contrast to the storm churning inside her. Aunt Sarah’s words echoed in her mind. Power and money. Greed. Was there a pattern she was missing?

Rachel knew this killer had a motive. They always did. But what if it wasn't just about oil money? What if there was more to it, a larger game at play? Years of experience told her that things were rarely as simple as they seemed.

Something pulled at her, like an instinct honed over years of ranger duty. A whisper of suspicion that told her the truth was buried beneath layers of deceit. Dust swirled in restless eddies around her boots. Her hand instinctively went to her gun at her side, comfort in its familiar weight.

“Rachel!” a voice called sharply from near the motel.

She turned. Ethan was standing there, frowning in her direction, pointing.

She hesitated, then approached the motel. She’d been pacing the motel parking lot and making calls for nearly an hour now. She hadn’t spotted the large SUVs that had slowly pulled into the lot.

Five of them, by the look of it.

Dark clouds were slowly creeping across the sky as she approached the motel.

Ethan was standing by the door, grim-faced. He opened it slowly, nodding cryptically towards the opening.

“What is it?” she began.

But she went quiet.

As she stepped foot onto the sidewalk facing the entrance of the motel, she went still.

Six men in black suits were standing within the room.

They belonged to the SUVs, she surmised.

And there, standing amidst the towering, muscle-bound suited men, was an elderly woman.

The woman had a distinct air of authority despite her petite stature. Her sharp eyes cut through the imposing figures surrounding her, a touch of defiance in every line of her body. She was dressed formally, a black dress contrasting against her silver hair that was pulled back into a tight bun. Her weathered face spoke of years spent under the Texan sun, of hardships endured and battles fought. She met Rachel's gaze as the Texas Ranger stepped inside, her expression unreadable.

"Rae," Ethan murmured from behind, but Rachel held up a hand to stop him.

With measured steps, the older woman made her way towards Rachel. Each step echoed in the silence of the motel lobby until she finally stopped a few feet away from Rachel and Ethan.

"Rachel Blackwood," she said in a voice that carried weight, "Alice Danvers."

Despite the simmering anger boiling beneath the surface, Rachel inclined her head in acknowledgment. Studying the older woman's face, she registered the lines etched deeply around her eyes and mouth – marks of time's passage but also an undeniable testament to the woman’s resilience.

She extended a hand - frail-looking but with a grip like iron when it clasped onto Rachel's own. "I’ve been expecting you,” Alice said, her words clipped and precise.

The look in Alice Danvers' eyes was intense and calculating, making Rachel feel like she was under meticulous examination. Suddenly, however, Alice broke their silent stare-off with a sharp laugh, tilting her head and causing her tightly pulled-back bun to bob and her steel-rimmed glasses perched on her nose to shift in the light above. She was maybe five feet tall, dwarfed by the men surrounding her. But there was power in her small frame, the kind that came from years of authority.

The CEO of Danvers Corporation stood in a hotel lobby at midnight, surrounded by bodyguards. Surely, it was no coincidence. The timing was too perfect. An answer right at Rachel's doorstep, an answer she hadn't expected until morning.

Alice's gaze pierced through the dimly lit room straight into Rachel's eyes. There was a calm confidence about her that Rachel found irksome.

"Ms. Danvers", Rachel greeted curtly.

Alice's gaze shifted to Ethan for a brief second before she responded. "I hear you’re looking to speak with me.”

Her voice had a worn quality about it, like well-tread leather.

Rachel’s phone vibrated. She glanced down, frowning. A message from Dawes.

It simply read, safe. Don’t follow.

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