Page 8 of Not This Soon

"Not yet. We're running the plates on the sedan now."

Rachel's gaze drifted back to the abandoned vehicle. "Let's take a closer look."

As they walked towards the crime scene, Ethan fell into step beside her. Two cops parted, and one of them moved towards the rangers, gesturing along the trail. This land was close enough to a reservation that jurisdiction disputes were likely to result if Rachel didn’t move fast.

One of the officers led Rachel and Ethan down a narrow trail, the desert landscape stretching out before them in a vast expanse of sand and scrub. The sun beat down mercilessly, the heat oppressive even in the early morning hours. Rachel's boots crunched against the rocky path, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of disturbance.

As they rounded a bend, the crime scene came into view. A woman's body lay sprawled on the ground, her wrist handcuffed to a metal tent peg. Rachel's stomach twisted at the sight, a wave of anger and sadness washing over her. She approached the victim, her movements careful and deliberate.

"Gunshot wound to the chest," Rachel said, her voice tight. She crouched down, examining the entry point. "Looks like a small caliber, maybe a .22."

Ethan nodded, his eyes sweeping the area. "No signs of a struggle," he observed. "The killer must have taken her by surprise."

“It was a long range shot.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm.”

“How do you know?”

Rachel pointed at the girl's chest, where the round wound was surrounded by a darkening bruise. "See this? The bullet went straight in. If it was close range, there'd be more tearing around the edges from the muzzle blast. Plus, look at the angle." She traced an imaginary line from the bullet hole towards the top of a nearby dune.

Ethan followed her gaze, his brow furrowed. "A sniper?"

"Seems like it." Rachel rose, her gaze steady on the dune. "This would be a good vantage point. Clear view of the path here and an easy escape route through the back."

She double checked her angles, frowning at the blood spray which streaked the sand.

Rachel stood up, her gaze drifting to the top of a nearby dune. "The shooter was positioned up there," she said, pointing. "Had a clear line of sight."

"Amateur… or an experienced sniper?" Ethan asked, his brow furrowing.

"Possibly," Rachel replied, her mind racing. She glanced back at the victim, taking in her appearance. The woman was young, maybe mid-twenties, with long blonde hair and a slender build.

Ethan gave a sort of whistle and his hand emerged from a tangled shrub, pulling out a lanyard. “Rebecca Morris,” he called. “Journalist.” He dangled the laminated item for her to see.

“A journalist?”

Ethan was nodding, already pulling out his phone to search the name through their slew of databases. “Here we go,” he said. “Rebecca Morris. Twenty-six. Works for the El Paso Tribune."

Rachel was silent for a moment, processing the information. "A journalist in the middle of nowhere..."

"Maybe she was working on a story?" Ethan suggested.

Rachel looked around at the desolate surroundings, then back at the body. "Doesn't seem like much to write about out here."

Ethan shrugged, already beginning to pace around the area. Rachel watched him for a moment before turning back to survey the scene. Her gaze was drawn again to the dune, its high ridge offering a perfect vantage point for an ambush.

She turned back to stare at where Rebecca Morris lay, her eyes on the cuff wrapped around the woman’s wrist. She felt bilerise in her throat. No sign of the rattler… but preliminary report had spotted the angry gouges from the snake bite. The gunshot had been reportedsecondarilyin the first responders’ report, as if the officers had been most stunned by the snake attack.

But the chain attached to the tent peg… someone had wanted Rebecca to suffer. To beafraid.

“Sadist…” she muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowed. She tilted the brim of her white hat, the single feather fluttering where it was tucked in the leather band wrapped around the brim.

Rachel's heart sank. Another innocent life lost, another family shattered. She thought of her own past, the pain of losing her parents at such a young age. The memories threatened to distract her, but she pushed them back, forcing herself to focus on the present.

She'd often been able to suppress emotional pain, but she wasn't proud of this skill.

---