Page 60 of Not This Soon

He’d shot Rebecca Morris from a vantage point not far from the crime scene. He liked to look down on his victims, to watch them like some gargoyle eyeing a threat. Like a vulture hovering over its prey.

The concrete beneath her feet was cold and unyielding as Rachel stepped under the Corpus Christie bridge. The air hung heavy with the stench of stagnant water and decay. Graffiti marred the walls, a chaotic jumble of colors and shapes that seemed to mock the tragedy that had unfolded here.

Rachel's eyes scanned the gloom, searching for any sign of the killer's passage. A discarded cigarette butt, a scrap of torn fabric, anything that might point her in the right direction.

But now they had a new lead.

A man in a red cap with green car.

Enough?

Enough to go fishing. She’d decided it was the best move. Late? Perhaps. But would a grieving mother be getting much sleep?

She’d have to see.

Reaching into her pocket, Rachel pulled out her phone and dialed a number she had hoped never to use. The line rang once, twice, before a woman's voice answered, tight with grief and anger.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Morris? This is Ranger Blackwood.”

A sharp intake of breath, then a pause. "What do you want?"

Rachel hesitated, weighing her words carefully. "I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you some questions. About potential suspects."

"Suspects?" Mrs. Morris's voice rose, edged with hysteria. "You mean the monster who did this to my baby? You—you arrested my husband!”

Rachel sighed. “We’ve confirmed his alibi, Mrs. Morris.”

“Then why is he still being held!”

Rachel skirted past having a conversation about the bomb on the yacht. She refocused.

"I can’t disclose that right now, Mrs. Morris," Rachel said gently.

“You’re destroying my family!”

"I'm trying to repair the damage, ma'am." Then, before any protest could be lodged, she continued, "I need you to thinkcarefully. Is there anyone who might have had a reason to harm Rebecca? Anyone with a history of violence or instability?"

The line went silent for a long moment, and Rachel could almost hear the gears turning in Mrs. Morris's head. “I… don’t know.”

“I’m sending you a picture. A white man in a red cap. He drives a green sedan. Tell me if he looks familiar.”

Rachel sent a screenshot from the security footage at the hospital, holding her breath as the image buffered.

A long silence lingered on the other end, broken only by the ragged sound of Mrs. Morris's breathing. "Yes," she finally whispered, her voice hoarse. "I know him... He used to work for my husband."

Rachel's heart pounded in her chest as she pressed for more information. "What was his name?"

"Atticus Silver."

Rachel's heart stilled at the name. "What was his role in your husband's company?"

"He was our accountant... for a while, anyway." Mrs. Morris’s voice wavered, uncertainty flickering through her tone. "But there... there was something strange about him. Almost... eerie. My husband fired him quite some time ago."

"Why was he fired?" Rachel's gaze sharpened on the shadows beneath the Corpus Christie bridge, her mind racing to connect the dots.

Mrs. Morris hesitated before responding, her voice coming out as little more than a whisper. "He acted... odd, after some time. Kept doctoring the books..."

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