Page 40 of Her Last Confession

Rachel's mind raced through the possibilities. If Bradley was here, if they'd managed to get ahead of him, that would very likely be the end of it. But what if they were too late? The image of Sandra Mitchell's body flashed through her mind, followed quickly by Timothy Walsh. Would Jennifer Parker be next?

She pushed the thoughts away, forcing herself to focus on the present.

A branch scraped along the side of the truck with a sound like fingernails on metal. The path was growing narrower, the forest pressing in around them like a living thing trying to bar their way. Novak had to slow their pace, picking through the obstacles with increasing care.

"There," Rachel said suddenly, pointing. There was a slight break in the trees to their right. "That’s the last turn."

Novak took it, the back tires unable to stay in the little lane and skidding against a small tree. The condition of the road just got worse and worse the deeper into the forest they ventured. The headlights did show twin trails in the forest floor—where tires of some kind had passed through at some point in history—but they were barely there at all. She looked to the sides of the so-called road, looking for evidence that someone had passed through her recently. It was hard to tell in the moving headlights, but shethoughtshe could see disturbances along the edge, the foliage and tall grass disturbed by—

“Rachel…do you see that?”

She napped her attention ahead. The headlights swept across something reflective—another vehicle. A truck, parkedhaphazardly at the edge of the road, pulled slightly off to the side.

And there, just beyond it...

"The pod," Novak muttered, killing the engine but leaving the lights on. The beams cut through the darkness like searchlights, creating stark shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own.

Rachel's hand was already on her weapon as she pushed the door open. The familiar weight of her Glock provided little comfort as her eyes locked onto a figure darting away from the pod. In the nighttime shadows among the trees, the figure looked like nothing more than a living, breathing darkness. The figure—Christopher Bradley, she assumed—disappeared into the tree line. The movement was quick, purposeful—someone who knew exactly where they were going.

"FBI! Stop right there!" Novak's voice boomed through the clearing as he broke into a sprint after the fleeing suspect. He moved swiftly, without looking back to her. It was technically a bit of a mistake, but she didn't blame him. Rachel watched him disappear into the darkness, chasing after the fleeing suspect.

She started to follow, but a flash of blue light caught her attention. It was a serene shade of calming blue emanating from within the pod. It pulsated with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Rachel’s blood ran cold as she spotted movement inside.

A woman was thrashing against the glass, her mouth open in a silent scream. Jennifer Parker.

The young woman’s face was pressed against the glass, eyes wide with terror. Her fists pounded against the transparent sheet of glass, but Rachel could barely hear the impacts over the sound of her own racing heart and the blood rushing in her ears.

She dropped to one knee, searching for the release mechanism she'd seen on the underside of the other pods. Her fingers found the familiar shape of the latch. She pushed, thenpulled…but it wouldn't budge. She tried again, using both hands this time, muscles straining with the effort.

"Damn it!" The bastard must have modified it, locked it somehow when he heard them coming.

The pod's soft blue light cast an eerie glow across Jennifer's face, making her look almost otherworldly—like she was floating in a capsule in space rather than trapped in one in these Virginia woods. Rachel could see her lips moving, forming words she couldn't hear through the thick glass; they were little more than muffled complaints. The young woman's eyes were pleading, desperate.

From somewhere in the darkness came the sounds of their struggle—grunts and the distinctive thud of bodies hitting the ground, followed by the crack of breaking branches. Novak had his suspect. Rachel took a step back from the pod, flicking the safety on her weapon. Jennifer's movements were becoming sluggish, her eyes starting to roll back.

No time left…

Rachel reversed her grip on the Glock, slipping the safety on and hefting the gun like a hammer. She brought it down on the glass surface hard and fast. The first strike against the glass sent a spiderweb of cracks racing across the surface, the impact jarring her arms. The second widened the fissures, but still wasn't enough. Her shoulders ached with the effort and her hand thrummed, but she couldn't stop now.

As she drew back again, she heard the voice of Christopher Bradley crying out into the night as Novak struggled with him. "You understand I'm helping them, right?" Bradley's voice carried from the darkness, twisted with a desperate kind of conviction. "They deserve their peace! They wanted to die…and I’m trying to…trying to…”

The sounds of their struggled drowned out the rest of his words, which had devolved into tear-choked sobs.

Rachel blocked out his words, channeling everything into one final strike. She brought her hand down, still gripping the Glock, putting all of her might and frustration into it. The glass exploded inward, shards raining down into the pod like deadly crystal rain. She reached in without hesitation, ignoring the bite of glass against her palm as she grabbed Jennifer under the arms and carefully started hauling her out.

The younger woman's body was limp, but Rachel could feel her breathing…barely. Rachel stumbled back in a clumsy yet effective manner and gently laid Jennifer on the ground. She quickly looked for the woman's pulse; she found it rapid but weak.

“Okay, I’ve got you,” Rachel said. “Hold on, Jennifer. Hold on…”

She was torn between caring for Jennifer and making her way out into the darkness to assist Novak. But before she could even give the choice much thought, Novak emerged from the darkness, wrestling with a man Rachel still assumed to be Christopher Bradley. His face was scratched, probably from crashing through the undergrowth, and his eyes held the wild light of zealotry. His clothes were covered in dirt and leaves, evidence of the struggle through the woods.

Novak seemed to have the upper hand, but it was clear that Bradley was fighting with more tenacity. Feeling more comfortable now that Jennifer would still be within sight, Rachel got to her feet and moved in next to Novak.

Bradley thrashed between them, surprisingly strong for his unremarkable build. Together, they managed to force his hands behind his back, though he nearly slipped free twice before they could secure him. The click of the handcuffs echoed with finality through the trees.

The sound seemed to flip some sort of switch within Bradley. He stopped resisting, and his shoulders sagged as his wordspoured out in an almost fevered rush. "I gave them what they wanted. What they needed. They just weren’t brave enough…but I helped. I could give them peace...like my Kelly. Like…like Kelly…Alive, they were suffering. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't..."

Rachel left Novak to secure Bradley and rushed back to Jennifer, who was starting to stir. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, but her eyes were focusing again. A series of little raspy moans trickled from between her lips. Relief flooded through Rachel as she pulled out her phone, her blood-slicked fingers leaving smears on the screen as she dialed 9-1-1.

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