Page 25 of Not This Place

Rachel frowned.

"Alright then." Another pause, another gulf widening between them.

A gust of wind kicked up dust, swirling around Rachel's boots as she shifted her weight. The sun bore down.

"Listen," Rachel started, her voice losing its edge, "just... stay safe, okay? I can't—"

A pause. She steadied her breath against the sudden tightness gripping her chest. This was not just about duty; it was blood calling to blood.

"Promise me, Aunt Sarah."

The miles between them seemed to shrink with that plea, the connection more than just a digital thread. For a heartbeat or two, the only sound was the distant buzz of cicadas, their chorus rising and falling with the breeze.

Then, laughter. Soft at first, like the rustle of leaves, then growing clearer. Aunt Sarah's chuckle broke through the tension, a balm to the sting of helplessness.

"Rachel, when did you become such a mother hen?" Aunt Sarah's voice carried warmth now, a rare note of affection that threaded through her usual stoicism. "I'll be fine. You're the one out there chasing shadows and stirring up trouble."

"Trouble seems to find me, doesn't it?" Rachel managed a half-smile, though she knew it couldn't be seen.

"Like moth to flame." Aunt Sarah's words were a gentle tease.

"Take care, Aunt Sarah. Please."

“I will. Dawes won’t let me out of his sight… Just like old times.” A faint cackle, suggesting Dawes’ ears were reddening now somewhere in the background.

“What are you working on?” her aunt said.

“M-me? Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Come now. You sound tense.”

Rachel sighed. “Really, Aunt Sarah, it’s nothing.”

"Rachel Blackwood, don't you dare try to fool me." Aunt Sarah's voice had a sharp edge to it, a clear warning that her evasive behavior was not going to pass unnoticed.

Rachel sighed audibly, her breath crackling through the phone. "We got ourselves a killer," she admitted at last. "Someone’s targeting people connected to oil tycoons."

The silence that followed was heavy with unsaid words. The burning sun lent an eerie glow to the deserted landscape around Rachel as she waited for her aunt's response. The weight of the badge on her chest felt heavier than ever.

"Any idea who it could be?" Rachel prompted, casting her gaze across the silent parking lot.

A sigh. "Rachel," Aunt Sarah began tentatively, "you should know better than anyone that money and power aren't just twin brothers; they're Siamese twins. They stick together, always hungering for more."

Rachel frowned at the cryptic response. "What does that mean, Aunt Sarah?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Simply this," came Aunt Sarah's voice again, quieter now. "The more you have, the more you want. Power breeds power; money breeds money. Greed is a voracious monster that feasts on the weak."

"But who would..." Rachel's voice trailed off as the implications of her aunt's words sank in.

Again, there was silence on the phone line before Aunt Sarah finally spoke up again.

"Money," Aunt Sarah finally said, each syllable a stone dropped into still water. "It always comes down to money. And power. People kill for less."

Rachel bit back a sigh. Clues were what she needed, not riddles. Yet, a part of her prickled with curiosity. Money and power. The pillars of motive since time immemorial. But how did they connect to the blood spilled across the oil fields?

"Alright, Aunt Sarah," Rachel yielded, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun dipped low, bleeding red into the sky. "If you think of anything—"

"I'll let you know." The line went dead.

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