Page 55 of Not This Soon

“And this cage?”

“Flesh eating bacteria… Eleanor was destined for a hospital bed. To live her life trapped, wasting away.”

Ethan gaped at her. “So… in a weird way, he’s kind of saving them.”

Rachel frowned. “We need to go check that hospital. See if we can find anything on security footage.”

“What about our cartel suspect?”

“Keep questioning him. But I doubt he’s involved. He certainly couldn’t have been here for Eleanor’s death.”

“So someone else… beat the cartel to Rebecca… killed her first… as amercy?”

Rachel paused, then nodded once.

“I think so. Yeah.”

"Damn," Ethan muttered, running a hand through his cropped hair. He looked at Rachel, blinkered by her revelation. "It's...it's twisted mercy."

Rachel stood, shrugging off the chill that had settled on her. She glanced at the night sky, the stars twinkling like distant fireflies in the pitch-black canvas. A thousand questions buzzed in her mind, each one demanding an answer she did not yethave. But she felt alive, invigorated by the challenge of the unknown.

"Get everything packed up here," she ordered, shifting her stern gaze back to Ethan. "I want this area scrubbed clean. No fragment of evidence left behind."

Ethan nodded, turning to relay the orders.

Rachel was already stalking back towards the waiting vehicle. A few phone calls, and she could confirm Eleanor's hospital visit. Was she chasing another red herring, or was she on the right track?

Time would tell.

She grimaced, doubling her pace and moving swiftly.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rachel strode into the hospital's security room, her boots clicking sharply against the linoleum floor. Ethan followed close behind, his presence a reassuring constant in the unfamiliar environment. The room was cramped, the air thick with the hum of electronic equipment and the tension of the hovering security team.

It was testament to the hospital’s pro law-enforcement policies that they were being given access so quickly—albeit, access with babysitters. Living in Texas had its perks.

Monitors flickered, casting an eerie glow across the faces of the gathered individuals. Rachel's gaze swept over them, taking in their nervous expressions and the way they seemed to shrink back from her intensity.

"Like we discussed, I need access to the security footage on the day Eleanor Hastings was discharged.”

The head of security, a balding man with a thin mustache, stepped forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Yes, yes. We’re working on it. But as we discussed, you don’t have permission to touch the security terminals. Give us a second to find the footage.”

Rachel's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in her cheek. "Understood. It’s fine if you operate the controls. Show me everything you have on Eleanor Hastings’ movements in this hospital."

The security team exchanged glances, their unease palpable. Rachel fixed them with a steely gaze, her eyes narrowing. "Now," she commanded.

Ethan placed a hand on her shoulder, a subtle gesture as if attempting to rein in an angered horse. She took a deep breath, trying not to picture the two dead women. Both of them huntedby the same psychopath. She watched as the hospital security team began to comply, their fingers moving over the controls with practiced efficiency.

Rachel's mind raced as she stared at the screens, her eyes scanning every frame for clues.

The images flickered, grainy and muted, as the security team fast-forwarded through hours of mundane hospital activity. Rachel leaned forward, her gaze intense, searching for any sign of Eleanor.

Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity as they combed through the footage. Rachel's patience wore thin, her frustration mounting with every passing moment. She could feel the weight of the case bearing down on her, the pressure to find answers before it was too late.

The footage moved forward, jumping from one camera to the next, following Eleanor's path through the hospital corridors. Rachel watched intently as the woman appeared on the screen, her movements slow and labored. She leaned heavily on her crutches, her face etched with pain and determination.

"There." Rachel pointed at the screen, her finger tracing Eleanor's progress. "Follow her. Don't lose sight of her."

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