Page 59 of Not This Time

"Welcome to Texas," Ethan said dryly.

Rachel nodded, trying to ignore the unsettling sensation of Silas' eyes boring into her. She knew she had to concentrate on the investigation, but the presence of the Clarks made it difficult.

Rachel's gaze shifted from the Clark family back to the dilapidated ranch house, where she had spotted an odd detail earlier.

She tugged at Ethan's arm, grateful for an excuse to put the Clark's out of sight.

She led him around the side of the house, stepping over broken boards and scattered debris, her boots crunching on the dry leaves that carpeted the ground. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, a fitting backdrop to the grisly scene they'd discovered inside.

"Look here," she said, pointing to a series of small paint stains splattered across the weathered wood siding. They stood out like beacons against the graying timber, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the somber surroundings.

Ethan squatted down to get a closer look, his brow furrowed in concentration. Rachel watched as he carefully ran his gloved fingertips along the edge of one of the stains, then lifted them to his nose for a quick sniff. She could see the gears turning in his mind as he analyzed the substance.

"Interesting," Ethan murmured, straightening up. "This is livestock marker paint. It's used by ranchers to quickly identify cattle for various reasons – vaccinations, breeding, culling, and so on."

"Really?" Rachel asked, trying to connect the dots between the paint and the crime. "But why would it be here?"

"Good question." Ethan rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he studied the stains once more.

"It's like the paint I saw on the other victim."

"You're sure? Same type?"

"Looks like the same color," she said, running her fingers along the orange outline.

Rachel couldn't help but feel uneasy again, the weight of Silas Clark's stare still lingering even though he was out of sight. She knew the answer to this mystery was crucial, a piece of the puzzle that could crack the case wide open. But how did it all fit together?

Rachel's brow furrowed as she chewed on her lower lip, trying to make sense of the paint stains and their correlation to the crime. The sun had dipped below the treeline, casting eerie shadows across the dilapidated ranch house. In the growing darkness, the paint stains seemed to take on a sinister quality. She could feel the chill in the air settling into her bones, but it wasn't the cold that made her shiver.

"Rachel?" Ethan's voice broke through her thoughts. "You okay?"

She nodded, forcing herself to focus. "Yeah, I just... I can't shake this feeling that we're missing something obvious. Something important."

"About the paint?" Ethan asked, his eyes meeting hers with concern.

"Maybe. I don't know," she admitted, her fingers fidgeting with the fringe of her jacket.

"Remember, when you're lost, turn to what you know best," Aunt Sarah had told her years ago. The words resonated within her now, and she closed her eyes for a moment to concentrate. What did she know best?

Her knowledge of animals and livestock was extensive, thanks to her upbringing. How could that help her now? Her eyes snapped open as a sudden realization dawned on her.

"Of course!" Rachel exclaimed, her hand slapping against her thigh in excitement. "Livestock markers aren't just used for cattle; they're also used for other animals like horses and even smaller ones like sheep or goats. And it's not just for identification purposes – sometimes, it's to indicate the animal's purpose or fate."

Ethan caught on quickly, nodding as he followed her train of thought. "So you think that whoever killed Jeb's wife might have marked her with this paint? Like they were labeling her for some reason?"

"Exactly," Rachel agreed, her pulse quickening at the implications. "If we can determine the meaning behind this marking, we might just be able to uncover the killer's motive." She hesitated now, frowning.

"What?" Ethan said. "What is it?"

"Nothing... sorry... I was just thinking about something my aunt taught me a long time ago. About culling."

Ethan glanced at her, curiosity piqued. "Culling?"

"Right. It's a practice used in animal husbandry, where you separate weaker or less productive animals from the rest of the herd. My aunt, she had a small cattle farm, and she was always so diligent about culling." Rachel's eyes narrowed, her thoughts crystallizing into a chilling realization. "The main reason to do it is to improve the overall quality and productivity of the herd."

As she spoke the words, the pieces fell into place. A cold shudder ran down her spine as she turned to Ethan, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if that's what's happening here? What if someone is marking and culling women, thinning the human herd? The fertility treatments... hospital visits... The victims had health concerns."

Ethan stared at her, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. "You think that's what this is all about? That whoever killed Jeb's wife marked her for...culling?"

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