Page 26 of Not This Way

The engine rumbled. The woman whimpered, and then they were moving again. As he drove away, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline at his narrow escape.

He glanced in the rearview mirror one last time to make sure the police were out of sight before increasing his speed. Fear still coursed through him, compelling him to be extra cautious. He made a conscious effort to obey every traffic rule, taking care not to draw any unnecessary attention to his vehicle.

“Can’t afford another close call like that,” he muttered to himself as he turned onto a less-traveled road. His thoughts raced with potential escape routes and alibis should the police catch up to him again. He knew he had been playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.

As he drove further into the darkness, the quiet was suddenly disrupted by a faint whimpering sound coming from the back of the truck. It was barely audible above the hum of the engine, but the killer’s ears attuned to it instantly. The reality of what he had done came crashing down on him as he realized that there was no turning back now.

“Please… let me go,” the muffled voice of his captive pleaded softly from the back, her words laced with pain and fear. The killer clenched his jaw tightly at the sound, his guilt intensifying with each passing moment.

“Stay quiet!” he snapped, anger mingling with his remorse. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want this,” he whispered more to himself than the victim, struggling to reconcile his actions with the person he once considered himself to be. But he was saving them all, wasn’t he? It was for everyone.

“Please,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She let out another sob.

The killer drove on, his mind a whirlwind of emotions as he continued down the desolate road. The night around him seemed darker and more foreboding than ever before, mirroring the turmoil within his soul. With every mile traveled, the weight of his guilt grew heavier, threatening to crush him under its oppressive force. But still, he drove on—deeper into the darkness, with no way to turn back.

The enjoyment he sometimes felt was dwarfed by the shadow of his guilt.

Both emotions warred within him, and he fought to keep himself from changing his mind. From altering the plan.

There was only one path forward. He knew that much.

He nodded, staring ahead toward the glistening metal arms rising and shrugging from desolate fields, streaked by flickers of moonlight.

The earth had to feed.

And he was its provider.

This time, when she whimpered, he didn’t feel nearly as bad.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The fluorescent lights above flickered, casting an eerie glow on the otherwise gloomy precinct break room. Rachel sat hunched over her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she scrolled through the cactus nursery’s employee and customer records.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the hum of the computer fan. “There has to be something here.”

Rachel leaned in closer to the screen, meticulously examining each record as if it held the secret to cracking the case wide open. She scribbled down notes, cross-referencing names, dates, and locations of travel records, payment records, credit card records that helped narrow geography.

Ethan sat across from her, frowning at his own computer, his handsome, sharp features illuminated by the glow of the screen in the dingy room.

A bead of sweat trickled down Rachel’s temple as she leaned closer to the computer screen. The room seemed to close in around her as she scrolled through the endless rows of names and dates. Her eyes flicked back and forth, reading each line with keen precision.

“Gotcha,” she whispered under her breath, excitement coursing through her veins.

“Find something?” Ethan’s voice startled her out of her concentration.

Rachel swiveled in her chair to face her partner. “The nursery owner hired a group of day laborers to work there. All of them in the age range we’re thinking. Two with criminal records. All with purchases near the crime scenes during our window of opportunity.”

“Interesting,” Ethan mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. She noticed a metal chain around his neck that he sometimes played with. The chain had a crucifix on the end that he kept tucked under his shirt. With his southern drawl, his easy smile, and his apparent religious upbringing, Rachel wondered if the two of them could’ve been more different from the other.

He’d also mentioned his large family more than once. She’d been an orphan.

It was almost comical they’d been paired together. And yet… she found she liked his company. His eagerness. His direct, unassuming nature. He didn’t seem to have a bone to pick with her, and was happy to follow her lead.

“Got names?” he asked.

“I’m running into some hiccups. I think two of them might be brothers. The criminal records are showing up, but under different names. Same socials.”

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