Page 31 of Not This Way

The motel room was bathed in the pale glow of moonlight, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Rachel lay in bed, her body tense as she fought to silence the fear that gnawed at her insides. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the images that haunted her, but they refused to be silenced.

“Please… not again,” she whispered, her voice trembling. As if in response, the nightmare began anew, clawing its way through her consciousness and dragging her into its inescapable clutches.

Her parents’ faces flickered before her, their eyes filled with terror and pain. The sound of shattering glass pierced the air, followed by the sickening splatter of blood. Rachel felt her stomach churn, bile rising in her throat as the horrifying scene unfolded once more. Desperation gripped her, tightening around her throat until every breath was a struggle.

“Stop it!” she cried out, her voice ragged and raw from the effort of holding back her tears. “Please, just stop!”

But the nightmare only intensified, the broken window looming larger than life in her mind’s eye. Crimson blood stained the jagged shards of glass, the gruesome remnants of her parents’ last moments. Fear, sadness, and frustration roiled within her, a tidal wave threatening to sweep her away.

She buried her head in her pillows, closing her eyes.

She’d been tempted in moments like these.

To drink.

To numb.

But she’d seen what that could do to people.

Had seen what it had done to her aunt.

No…

No, she wouldn’t let the waves of emotion toss her about.

And so she suffered.

Lying in bed, motionless, staring at the ceiling.

How often had she tried to solve her parents’ case? Suspects had been those opposed to interracial marriages between Native Americans and whites. They had run through the suspects rather quickly.

A cold case.

Nearly twenty years had passed since then.

Rachel had grown up as an orphan. She lay there, breathing heavily, thinking about Ethan.

A man who couldn’t have been more different than her. He’d grown up in a large family, with small-town, religious roots.

He’d known what it was to have community. He’d been raised by his parents.

She shivered, trying not to feel the rising sense of envy that thoughts like this often brought forth.

She lay sweating on her sheets like a cornered animal—it was always worse at night, when the dark things came out to play.

Rachel sat up, running her hand through her hair. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep for an hour, maybe more, not with the nightmare still clinging to her like a bad smell. She needed to do something, anything, to get her mind off the past.

With a sigh, she reached for her laptop, flipping it open. She scrolled through her emails, ignoring the stack of unread messages from her boss.

The case was still tugging at her thoughts.

It was all so much to handle.

She closed her eyes, releasing a pent-up sigh, leaving the lid of her laptop open, allowing the glow from the screen to serve as a nightlight.

A full-grown woman. A hunter, a tracker. A killer.

And yet she needed a damn nightlight to dose off.

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