Page 61 of Not This Place

He stared after her. “You’re just letting me go?”

“You didn’t kill anyone, right?”

“No!” he exclaimed.

She found she believed him. He’d been at the cabin hiding the bodies. But that was it. And he hadn’t been the one to put a gun to her head.

"Then go!" She shouted, turning her attention back to the forest. "Run!"

She watched as Simon stumbled off, half-running, half-wading through the river. She didn’t trust him fully, but that was a concern for another day. She was alone now, and she had a killer to catch.

Taking a deep breath, she doubled back into the woods. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom.

She didn’t watch Simon anymore.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She felt a rush of adrenaline tingling in her fingertips and spreading out to her toes. The wind rustled through the trees, the leaves whispering secrets as they quivered in the night air. Rachel moved forward, purposeful and determined, the crunch of leaves under her boots echoing in the silent forest.

She was aware of every rustling leaf, every shifting shadow, every distant hoot of an owl. Her senses were heightened, her body primed. She was no longer just a ranger; she was a hunter on a chase.

With each step, she mentally inventoried her surroundings – a thicket to the right that could hide a man lying low, a large oak tree with branches sturdy enough to support someone climbing up to get a better vantage point, the smell of damp earth and rotting leaves.

Feeling the cold metal of her gun against her palm brought an odd sense of reassurance. The familiar weight of it in her hand grounded her amidst the uncertainty and danger. She checked it again - fully loaded, safety off.

The snapping of twigs brought her attention back to her surroundings. The noise wasn't coming from ahead but from her side. Cautiously, she moved towards it, shadows and moonlight playing tricks on her eyes.

Piercing eyes scanned the darkness expectantly, but nobody came charging out. No gunshot rang in the quiet night.

But he was out there. A killer was stalking her in the dark.

The only question remained: who would find the other first?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Rachel crouched, her boots sinking silently into the damp underbrush of the Texan forest. Night enveloped the woods, a thick blanket of darkness that turned every shadow into a potential threat. The ridge loomed ahead—a stark silhouette against the lesser black of the sky. Her breath formed faint clouds in the cool air, dissipating quickly as if afraid to exist.

She waited.

Time passed—minutes, maybe hours. Trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches swaying gently in a wind that seemed to touch everything but Rachel. She was a statue, a part of the landscape, as motionless as the earth beneath her.

A branch snapped. Soft. Distant. To any other ear, an insignificant sound lost in the nocturnal chorus. But not to Rachel. Her eyes narrowed, pupils dilating as she absorbed every scrap of light that the night grudgingly offered.

There it was again. A rustle. The faintest displacement of leaves. Something—or someone—was out there, moving with a caution that mirrored her own. Her hand gripped the butt of her service weapon.

Her focus sharpened, instincts honed from years of tracking fugitives through terrain just like this. She cataloged every potential hiding spot, every angle of approach. Rachel Blackwood didn't believe in luck. She believed in preparation, in skill. In knowing the land better than those who dared to tread it with ill intent.

The subtle shift came again. This time closer. A shadow within shadows, a darker patch that hadn't been there a heartbeat before. Her fingers twitched, ready to fire. But she held back. Patience. It could’ve been bait.

He was looking for her the same as she was looking for him. She needed confirmation, needed to see more than just a wisp of movement.

"Show yourself," she whispered to the night, voice barely above a breath. It wasn’t a command, just a quiet acknowledgment of the game of cat and mouse they were playing. Her words were for her alone.

Rachel's body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring. She breathed out slowly, letting her heart rate settle into the stillness of the forest.

The movement had ceased on the ridge line, but she remained still, hidden by her own foliage.

She’d wait as long as she had to. He was out there, up there.

He was waiting for her to make a mistake.

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