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“Jeep Wrangler. Black.”
I rattled off her response to Charlie.
“Yep, that’s out front and…. Hold on, there’s another car parked behind it. I can see the plates. Running the number now….”
I held my breath, waiting to hear who the car belonged to. Future victim, accomplice, unsuspecting neighbor.
“Oh shit. Oh fucking shit. This can’t be right. Quick, what kind of car does Rain drive?”
I snapped my gaze to Slade’s, who didn’t hear the urgency in Charlie’s rushed words. I swallowed hard to keep my stomach contents down.
“A white Tesla.” Slade took a menacing step closer, knowing I was talking about Rain’s type of vehicle but not the context. “Please fucking tell me it’s not—”
“Get to that fucking address now,” Charlie ordered. “I’ll try her cell phone until she picks up.”
Not needing to be told twice, I bolted out of the room knowing Slade would be hot on my heels. Her text earlier mentioned she had a quick errand, not that she planned to meet with a fucking serial killer. Alone. She wouldn’t do that, not to us, to me and Slade or herself.
Which meant only one thing.
She had no idea what she was walking into.
34
RAIN
Cute house.That was my first thought about the bright blue cottage-style home as I pulled along the curb. The flower beds needed some love. Not from someone like me who killed everything she touched. Maybe that was why I liked my career path so much.
They were already dead.
Snickering at myself for my lame-ass joke, I climbed out of my car and stepped into the street. Tossing my handbag over my shoulder, I blew out a breath and shook both hands to dispel my irrational anxiety, making me feel nervous and a sense of dread sit in the pit of my stomach.
I wasn’t the best at normal social interactions, but this woman called me to talk. Obviously, Beth didn’t feel comfortable talking to her partner about whatever bothered her. I couldn’t back out just because my anxiety told me to tuck and roll away from the situation.
The soles of my new sparkly tennis shoes slapped on the cement walkway as I approached the house. The sun hit the gold glitter, shooting pretty rays along the green grass. Smiling, I jumped up the two front steps and raised my knuckles to knock but the door swung open before my skin could touch the black painted wood.
“Beth,” I called, that dread sensation growing at the oddness of the door opening on its own.
Pushing aside the bombarding worst-case-scenario thoughts of me walking into a trap or a butler ghost opening the door for me, I wedged through the small gap and quietly closed the haunted door behind me.
You never know. The ghost might get super poltergeist-y with loud noises.
“Rain.”
Wide smile on my face, I turned toward Beth’s voice only for my lips to slowly fall. Several blinks later, I still didn’t understand what I saw playing out in front of me.
“Um. So.” Yep. Apparently, when confronted with a woman I somewhat knew holding another obviously terrified woman with a gun pressed to the stranger’s temple, I was reduced to two-letter words. And like the antisocial person I was, I stated the obvious because what else was there to say? “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
Even the hostage rolled her eyes.
What? I was used to dealing with dead people, not life-and-death situations.
They came to me already dead, for fuck’s sake. I was not equipped for this.
“I messed up,” Beth whispered, wild, bloodshot eyes pleading with me from across the small living room. “I didn’t know…. She wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“Whose house is this?” I asked, taking in all the exits and possible weapons.
The woman sobbed. “My boyfriend’s—”