Page 81 of Not This Way

She pushed aside thoughts of that night, flooring the pedal and tearing up the road in search of some vindication.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

The drive to the hospital was a blur for Rachel. She kept one hand on the wheel and the other twisted awkwardly and extended into the back seat, her hand pressed hard against the lawyer’s neck, trying to stem the flow of blood. Every time the woman groaned or moved, Rachel pressed harder, her heart pounding in her chest.

After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled up to the hospital, tires squealing against the asphalt of the roundabout. Rachel practically dragged the victim out of the car and into the emergency room, shouting for help. Doctors and nurses swarmed around them, taking the woman from Rachel’s grasp and rushing her into surgery. Rachel stood in the hallway, shaking and covered in blood, watching as the doors to the OR swung shut.

She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, and slumped against the wall. Her eyes closed.

She pulled out her phone with shaking fingers and sent a text.

Suspect located at following coordinates. Apprehendnow! Look for a cactus.

She sent the message, then sent the data from her GPS.

She watched as the message sent, and then swiped with weary fingers on the phone.

She lowered herself onto a bench outside the OR, facing a vending machine, her eyes fluttering, wanting to close, wanting to find the sweet assuaging of sleep.

But her own curiosity carried her forward.

With a start, she realized she didn’t even know the name of the man she’d fought in the desert.

She logged into the database and cycled to employee records.

She entered the lawyer’s information, and then scanned the details on her chauffeur.

She blinked.

A smiling face stared back from the image. The name under the image read “Tyler Dobson.”

“Hello, Tyler,” she murmured.

She recognized the man, though in the desert, she’d grappled with a more haggard version of the face staring back at her.

Rachel’s heart rate increased as she read through Tyler’s file. He had been working for the law firm for over five years, and there were no previous incidents or complaints against him. It appeared he was a model employee.

She closed her eyes, hanging her head briefly.

And then she stood up.

Exhaustion weighed on her, but this wasn’t over. The killer was still free.

And a man like that belonged in a cage.

She began walking down the slick, tiled hall of the hospital. Sleep was an elusive promise now. She moved swiftly, fishing keys from her pocket.

She made her way outside, the cool morning air hitting her face, and jogged to the car. She got in, started the engine, and headed toward the coordinates she had sent earlier.

As she drove, she kept glancing at the phone on her seat next to her.

Pieces were slowly fitting together.

Dobson’s father had been involved with a fringe environmentalist group. Dobson had been raised by his father until the man’s death fifteen years ago.

Working on an oil rig. Routine maintenance, and a tragic accident.

She stared at the image of Tyler’s smiling face.

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