Page 32 of Her Last Farewell

"I'm thinking we need to see that bridge," Rachel replied grimly. "And I'm thinking we might find more than just a local landmark when we get there."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Rachel guided the sedan down the winding dirt road away from Eaves' property, her mind churning with possibilities. The headlights carved twin paths through the growing darkness, illuminating swirls of dust their tires kicked up into the cooling evening air. Every few seconds, the beams would catch the reflection of small animal eyes in the underbrush before they darted away, disappearing into the deepening shadows of the forest. As they navigated the rough terrain of just one of the several roads Eaves had directed the down, the car's suspension groaned with each dip and bump.

She was beginning to think that they'd originally approached this case from entirely the wrong angle. Rachel found herself reconstructing the investigation in her mind, examining each assumption they'd made along the way.

"We've been thinking about this backwards," she said finally, gripping the steering wheel tighter as they navigated a particularly treacherous stretch of road. The leather creaked under her fingers. "The killer didn't track these women down because he knew they were suicidal. He didn't need to do any research or study their patterns at all."

Novak shifted in the passenger seat, turning to face her. The dashboard lights cast shadows across his features as he considered her words. "What makes you say that?"

"Think about the logistics," Rachel continued, slowing the car as they approached the intersection with the main road. The beam of their headlights made the entire scene look ghostly. "No one person could have known about all of those women being suicidal. Not without extensive surveillance or access to private medical records. And I find it highly unlikely that all four of these women would have called the hotline."

She paused, letting the idea develop further. "And if there was no study or research on the victims, he probably didn't abduct them from their homes, either. The risk would be too high, the planning too complex."

The realization hit Novak, his eyes widening. "You think he's keeping an eye on that bridge and capturing these women before they..." He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.

"When they're at their lowest," Rachel completed for him, turning onto the neglected road that would lead them to Patterson Bridge. The pavement here was cracked and worn, nature slowly reclaiming what humans had abandoned. Tall pines loomed on either side, their branches creating a tunnel effect that seemed to swallow their car whole. After several hundred feet, the pavement gave way to a trail of dirt. "He doesn't need to hunt them down because they're coming to him. To that bridge. All he has to do is wait."

The forest pressed in around them as they drove deeper into the darkness. Their headlights caught a glimpse of a startled deer, its eyes reflecting before it bounded away into the undergrowth. They came to a small hill and descended into a slight valley, where fragments of small fields broke out among the trees.

"This whole area feels forgotten," Novak observed, his voice hushed as if the weight of their surroundings demanded it. "Like the world just moved on and left it behind."

Rachel nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. There was something about these backroads that felt trapped in time, preserved like insects in amber. Perfect hunting grounds for someone patient enough to wait for their prey to come to them.

Following Eaves' directions, they turned onto another dirt road, this one even more neglected than the last. Ancient oaks and maples crowded the narrow passage, their branchesscraping against the car's roof like skeletal fingers. The sound made Rachel shiver despite herself

"How many women do you think came out here?" Novak asked softly. "Not just the ones we know about, but others? How many stood on that bridge contemplating the end?"

Rachel didn't answer immediately, letting the question hang in the thick air between them. "Too many," she finally said. "And he probably watched them all, deciding which ones to 'save.'" She made air quotes around the last word, her disgust evident.

Finally, the bridge came into view, its dark silhouette a jagged tear in the night sky. Concrete barriers blocked the entrance, their reflective panels cracked and faded, looking like dulled eyes in the beam of their headlights. Rachel pulled the car to a stop and cut the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening, broken only by the soft ticking of the cooling engine and the distant cry of a whippoorwill.

They stepped out into the night, and Rachel immediately felt the weight of the darkness around them. The air was thick with the scent of decaying leaves and damp earth, underscored by the metallic tang of old iron. Their footsteps were soft but still sounded far too loud as they approached the bridge, the sound seeming unnaturally loud in the still night air.

The bridge itself was a testament to forgotten engineering, its massive iron struts rising like the ribs of some ancient beast. Rust had eaten away at the metal in places, leaving pockmarked surfaces that felt rough and cold under Rachel's exploring fingertips. The old pavement beneath their feet was cracked and broken, with tendrils of hardy weeds pushing through the fissures, nature slowly reclaiming what man had abandoned. Several bits of graffiti had been placed upon the old surface—some old enough to have faded but some quite recent. Band names, crude renderings of sex, hearts with initials inside.

A sudden gust of wind blasted through, sending dead leaves, twigs, and grit across the bridge. The sound of the wind through the old struts and rails was like ghosts whispering secrets in the darkness. Somewhere in the distance, a branch snapped, the sound sharp and distinct in the quiet night. Rachel found herself straining to hear any other sounds that might indicate they weren't alone, but the forest kept its secrets.

She approached the edge of the bridge carefully, aware of the structure's questionable stability. The iron railings creaked ominously in the light breeze, the sound echoing off the ravine walls below. She peered over the edge, and the darkness seemed to reach up to meet her gaze. The drop was substantial, easily seventy feet. The bottom was a cruel combination of jagged rocks and the thin silver ribbon of a creek, barely visible in the dim starlight.

"I can see why someone would choose this place," Novak said quietly, standing a few feet back from the edge. "It's beautiful in a tragic sort of way."

Rachel nodded, understanding what he meant. There was a terrible romance to it—the isolated bridge, the towering trees, the way the moonlight filtered through the branches to create shifting patterns on the weathered metal. It was the kind of place that seemed to invite dark thoughts, to whisper that the world wouldn't miss one more lost soul and that really, it wasn’t going to hurt all that bad.

The isolation of the place was palpable. The only sounds were the soft whisper of wind through the trees, the occasional creak of settling metal, and the persistent call of that distant whippoorwill. Rachel turned slowly, scanning the surrounding forest for any sign of human habitation. The trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their branches intertwining to create a canopy that blocked out most of the starlight.

But then she saw it… to her right and slightly ahead, a faint warm glow pierced the darkness. It was barely visible through the dense foliage, but it was definitely there, likely coming from a window, and couldn't be more than a mile away. The light seemed to waver slightly, like a beacon in the darkness, and Rachel felt her pulse quicken as the pieces began falling into place: the bridge's remote location, the perfect vantage point it would offer someone watching from nearby, the desperate women who would come here in their darkest moments…it all made terrible sense. This was where he found them, where he waited for his victims.

And that light... that light had to be coming from his house.

The realization sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool night air. The killer didn't need to search for his victims because they came to him, drawn to this bridge in their moments of deepest despair. And he would be there, waiting, perhaps watching even now from the darkness.

Another branch snapped in the forest, closer this time. Rachel's hand instinctively moved to her weapon, but she forced herself to remain calm. The wind picked up again, and the bridge groaned beneath them, a sound like a soul in pain.

Rachel turned to Novak, her decision already made. "I need you to hide," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Novak's surprise was evident even in the darkness. "Hide? Why... what are you going to do?"

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