Page 14 of Not This Way

And now this spot.

A gap in the fence, parted vaguely, showing a significant amount of foot traffic, suggesting that the workers on the rigs knew about it too.

Cigarette butts scattered across the ground, along with old, discarded beer bottles.

Rachel scanned the area. Her gaze caught on something—a glint of light peeking from beneath a creosote bush. She strode over and crouched down, gingerly brushing away dirt to reveal a silver cigarette lighter.

Ethan came to stand beside her. “Think it’s relevant?”

She turned the lighter over in her gloved hands, noting the intricate engraving. “Expensive taste for a roughneck.”

“Maybe one of the bosses lost it.”

“Maybe.” Rachel’s gut twisted as she looked over the deserted field.

The towering drill rigs pierced the dusk sky, their mechanical arms swinging methodically amidst the maze of pipelines and storage tanks. Rachel picked her way across the oil-stained gravel, the pungent fumes stinging her eyes.

“The worker found the body near pumpjack fifteen,” Morgan said, consulting his tablet. “Just past that separator.”

Rachel nodded, picturing the gruesome discovery. She knew these fields—had grown up near their labyrinth of pipe and steel. Now the land held secrets, buried sins.

They slipped through the gap in the fence, preferring not to announce their presence just yet as they approached the pumpjack, its horsehead bobbing steadily against the bruise-colored sky. Rachel noted the lack of caution tape or cops. The crime scene had already been processed, but she needed to see it for herself.

“Hard to believe the perp dragged a body out here unseen,” Morgan said, voicing Rachel’s thoughts.

She frowned. “An inside job, you think?”

“Maybe. Lot of opportunity in a place like this.” His eyes met hers, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

A work boss was standing by the pumpjack, fidgeting with his hardhat. His weathered face creased into a somber expression as they approached. His eyes took them in, and he glanced at the badge flashing on Morgan’s belt. The moment he spotted it, he straightened a bit, clearing his throat and rocking back on his heels.

“Morning,” Morgan said.

“Feds?” the old head asked.

“Mhmm,” Morgan replied, flashing his ever-present smile. Rachel’s was a more reserved disposition as she nodded noncommittally in greeting.

“Heard you were comin’. They know you’re here at the front office?”

Rachel didn’t reply to this. Instead, she said, “You the one who found the body?”

“I was reading sensors,” the man replied. He extended a weathered hand stained in grease and ridged in calluses. “John Baker.”

“Nice to meet you, John,” Rachel said. “Who found the body?”

“My boss. And a rookie. They’re still chatting with detectives from PD at the office.”

Rachel just nodded. “So you were on the sensors?”

“One of the attendees,” he said quickly, as if worried he might somehow be admitting to more responsibility than he was comfortable with. John nodded, his eyes flicking to the pumpjack and a descending drill hole where the body had likely lain. “Never seen anything like it. Christ almighty…” He crossed himself, gaze distant.

Rachel gentled her voice. “We know this is difficult. But can you walk us through how it happened? Any details could help.”

John scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “We found her this morning during startup rounds. Saw something on the sensors blocking things.” His lips thinned. “No one deserves to go like that.”

Rachel pictured it—John’s shout of alarm, the shock bleeding to horror. She studied the pumpjack’s rhythmic churn, letting John gather himself.

“Notice anything odd the night before?” Morgan asked, quirking an eyebrow.

---