Page 39 of Let Her Run

"Thank you," Hal whispered, his shoulders sagging with relief.

Fiona watched as the tension drained from Hal's body. She could see how much he loved his son, and it was clear that he was a devoted father. But as much as she wanted to believe him, she knew they had to be careful. The killer was still out there, and they couldn't afford to let their guard down.

CHAPTER TWENTY

He steered his truck toward the quiet neighborhood, where his next potential client awaited, and relished in the way the sunlight glinted off the water droplets on the windshield, reflecting his own twisted beauty back at him.

"Ah, the calm after the storm," he mused as he parked outside the pristine white house with manicured lawn. "The perfect time for wasps to rebuild their nests."

A man stormed out of his house and trudged over to him as he got out of his truck, not in any rush at all.

"About time you got here!" barked the homeowner. His scowl deepened the already prominent lines on his face. "I've got a wasp nest that needs taking care of, and I can't have my family getting stung!"

"Of course," the exterminator replied smoothly. "Show me the nest, please."

"Follow me." The homeowner led him to the backyard, where a quaint wooden shed stood among lush greenery. Crouching down, the homeowner pointed at the underside. "There. It's bigger than any I've ever seen."

The exterminator studied the nest, admiring the intricate architecture of the wasps' home. To him, it was a testament to nature's resilience and beauty. Yet all this man saw was a threat to his precious little world. Disgust bubbled inside him, but he kept his voice steady. "This particular nest is harmless, sir. They won't bother you if you don't disturb them."

"Are you kidding me?" the homeowner exploded, his face reddening. "I want that thing gone now! My kids play out here!"

"Sir, I assure you--" the exterminator began, but the homeowner cut him off.

"Get rid of it, or I'll find someone who will!"

The exterminator hesitated for a moment, his fingers twitching with the urge to teach the ignorant homeowner a lesson. He took a deep breath, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. "I apologize, sir," he said quietly, forcing a polite smile. "It seems we have a difference of opinion on this matter. Perhaps it would be best if you called another exterminator."

The homeowner stared at him incredulously. "Fine! I'll do just that!" he spat, storming back toward the house.

"Have a good day, sir," the exterminator said, keeping his tone even as he turned away from the man's retreating form.

He walked back to his truck, his anger simmering beneath the surface like lava waiting to erupt. The door slammed shut behind him, enclosing him in the familiar space that smelled of chemicals and death. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white, and allowed himself to seethe.

How dare that man? How dare he demand the destruction of such a beautiful, delicate creation? The homeowner was the true pest, a blight upon the land he claimed as his own. And like any other infestation, the exterminator knew it was his duty to eliminate the threat.

In the rearview mirror, he watched the homeowner pacing furiously on his porch, barking orders into his phone. The exterminator's lips curled into a cruel smile, his eyes glinting with dark intent. This man would soon learn the price of his arrogance.

"Your time will come, you pathetic fool," he whispered under his breath, feeling an exhilarating thrill run through him.

With one last glance at the house, he started the engine and pulled away, already plotting his return.

The wasps would have their revenge, and he would be their instrument of justice.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Fiona slammed the car door shut, her frustration mounting. The evening air swirled around her, warm and humid from the earlier storm. Jake followed suit, rubbing the back of his neck as they walked towards their motel, the weight of their failure dragging them down.

"Another dead-end," Jake muttered, his eyes clouded with concern. "The chief's not gonna be happy with our progress."

"I know," Fiona peeped. She stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact as they reached their respective doors. She'd wanted to perform better on this case; she'd wanted to solve it in record time, to show off how useful she could be. But it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how close she thought she was getting, she was wrong.

"Let's take five," Jake said. "Maybe we can clear our heads and find a new approach."

"Sounds good," said Fiona, giving him a weak smile. Jake stepped into his room, disappearing from sight. Fiona unlocked her own door, letting out a sigh as she slipped inside.

The room was nothing special, but it provided a temporary sanctuary from the outside world. Fiona tried to shake off her disappointment, knowing that dwelling on it would only serve to hinder their investigation further.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of her phone. Glancing at the screen, she saw Chief Harold Whittaker's name flash across it. Her heart skipped a beat as she answered, fearing the worst.

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