Page 75 of Not This Time

If the Clarks had found out of Caldwell's involvement, there was no telling what they might do to him.

She sighed, shaking her head in mounting frustration.

What was she missing?

She continued drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.

He also had seemed strangely concerned with privileged information.

Was it an act?

Or did he try to stick to his principles? Did serial killers do that?

She was finding her hesitation mounting. She wasn't sure they had the right guy.

She clicked her tongue once, then said, "What other clients do you have that you counsel for PTSD?"

"I... other clients?"

"Yes. Leave no one out. This is your one shot to convince me to look under some other rock. I'm advising you to take it."

He gaped at her, hesitated, but then closed his bloodshot eyes as if trying desperately to think. "I... I think only two others. It's not a large part of my business... but... One is a woman who had a car crash not long ago. She limps now. But..."

Rachel leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "But what?"

Caldwell opened his eyes and met her gaze. "But one of them is a police officer."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The moonless night seemed to swallow the headlights as the unmarked police car crawled along the desolate Texas road, its tires crunching gravel and echoing into the darkness. The man behind the wheel gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, his eyes hidden behind mirrored aviator sunglasses even though it was well past midnight.

His gaze flicked to the police scanner mounted on the dashboard, its crackling static providing an eerie soundtrack to his obsession. He listened intently for any mention of her name, the mere sound of it sending shivers down his spine. He leaned forward, one hand clutching the steering wheel and the other tapping the scanner impatiently.

"Unit 23, Ranger Blackwood calling in the arrest of Caldwell," the voice on the scanner finally cut through the static. His heart raced at the mention of both their names, feeding his twisted fixation.

"Finally got him, didn't you?" The creepy man chuckled under his breath, his free hand fumbling in the glove compartment. He pulled out a crumpled newspaper clipping detailing Ranger Blackwood's recent exploits and laid it carefully on the passenger seat, ensuring her photo remained visible. He ran his fingers over the image of her face, tracing the contours of her jawline and the curve of her lips.

He imagined the exact expression she would have when he confronted her – the look of shock and realization that would pass over those mesmerizing brown eyes before they closed forever. That vision fueled his resolve, each mile bringing him closer,

He picked up speed in the unmarked cruiser, smiling to himself.

Sometimes, the farmer had to cull the herd.

Other times?

He preserved.

And Rachel Blackwood had been a thorn in his side long enough, like a wild mare ready to be broken.

He nodded to himself.

She also had Caldwell.

Dr. Caldwell had been... a vector. A source, in many ways.

In fact, it was at Caldwell's when the man hadfirstspotted the wounded lamb. The one who was now moaning and protesting her bindings from the backseat.

He glanced at Ms. Carter, where she lay sprawled across the seats in the back.

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