CHAPTER FIVE

The sun baked the barren landscape, casting a relentless heat upon Rachel and Ethan as they trekked across the desert. Dust swirled around their boots with each step they took. The trail before them stretched out, marks in the sand, the dust, the dirt.

Rachel's eyes tracked the fading trail.

Whoever had left the old, dilapidated farmstead hadn't tired. For nearly half a mile, they'd trekked in rough and ragged terrain. The ground turned mostly to stone in the basin of a rising cliff face, and Rachel's eyes strained to discern the tracks as the ground shifted from soft sand and earth to hard, unyielding rock.

"Rachel," Ethan's voice cut through the dry air, "you still got the trail?"

She barely nodded, her gaze locked on a distant cliff that thrust upwards from the flat expanse like a giant's jagged tooth. She could feel him watching her, but didn't look away.

Movement. She'd spotted movement.

"Hey," he prodded again, his concern edging into his tone. "Did we lose the trail?"

"No," she replied curtly, not breaking stride. "It's there."

"Well?"

"Someone's out there," Rachel muttered, eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun.

Ethan squinted, scanning the area. "Where? I don't—"

"Shh." Her hand shot up, halting him. "They moved. When we looked their way."

"Moved?" He searched the landscape, seeking movement in the stillness. Dust devils danced in the distance. Rocks and cacti stood as silent witnesses. Nothing more.

Ethan's eyes narrowed, "I… I think I see it. There? That shadow on the cliff?" he nodded eagerly.

"That's a rock," she clarified, her voice low. "Whoever it was, he's gone. He bolted when he spotted us."

"I didn't see anything."

She didn't reply to this. Her eyes were trained to pick out vagaries.

"Could've sworn..." Ethan let his sentence trail off. It was easy to see phantoms in this heat-wavering expanse.

Rachel, undeterred by the tricks of light and shadow, marched toward the base of the cliff. The sand gave way to sturdier ground, each step raising puffs of dust that clung to their boots. She led the way to where the land rose, and the scrub brush grew denser.

"Trail goes up," she stated, pointing to a narrow path barely visible among the rocks.

"Up there?" Ethan's eyebrows lifted. "Looks barely touched."

She pointed to a gray rock. "That's moved—see the imprint in the sand?"

He chuckled sheepishly. "Nope."

Rachel studied Ethan for a moment, at the way he stood there, rubbing a hand through his shaggy hair. He had that awkward little smile on his lips that was so often there.

She found she liked watching him smile.

The two of them had started off as partners. But things had shifted between them. There was a growing warmth, a familiarity, and these soft moments of honesty.

And sometimes, truth was a simple, quiet thing. It didn't have to be profound. It could be honest.

"You're cute, you know that," she said simply.

He blinked at her, opened his mouth, closed it again and grinned widely.

And in her own small, stilted way, Rachel grinned back.

"Drinks tonight?" he blurted out.

She chuckled, turning away as she shrugged one shoulder. "Not one to pass up an opportunity, huh?"

"Is that a yes?"

She hesitated, gnawing her bottom lip for a moment as she looked off into the distance. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Might be nice."

When Rachel looked back, Ethan's grin only widened further, and she allowed the small smirk on her lips to display a moment longer. But then she turned her attention back to the cliff face.

There was too much to do yet. If the man at the end of these tracks had seen them, things could get complicated fast.

"Here, the trail is that way," she instructed.

Ethan gave a low grunt of affirmation and continued after her.

Sunlight glared off the jagged rocks as Rachel led the way, her boots sending small clouds of dust into the arid air with each step. The trail ahead twisted upwards, a serpentine path etched into the cliffside. She paused, her gaze dropping to the ground. A dark stain marred the earth. Dried blood. Old, but not ancient.

"Here," she said, her tone low and even as she pointed to the discolored patch.

Ethan knelt beside it, his fingers hovering inches above the soil. "Recent."

"Within a day, maybe two," Rachel assessed, scanning the surrounding area for more signs. Her mind raced, piecing together the timeline.

"Human?"

"No way to know without getting it analyzed."

"Think this is out guy? Maybe he's been this way before?"

"Could be. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, though. Our killer could be a she… or this blood could be another victim."

Ethan sighed, looking troubled at this. She knew how protective he was of his mother, his sisters and the idea of some other woman out here in a shallow, unmarked grave, clearly disturbed him.

"What do you think those turquoise beads were about back at the crime scene? The posed corpse?" Ethan asked, his eyes turning away from the blood spatter.

"I don't know… Yet."

The path before them narrowed, the space between the cliff face and the drop-off shrinking until it was barely wide enough for one person to pass. Ethan's eyes measured the tight squeeze. "Should we come back with backup?"

"Stay sharp," she responded, her voice steady. "I've got this." Her eyes didn't leave the path; they couldn't afford hesitation.

"Rachel..." Ethan began, the protective edge of his upbringing threading through his words.

She silenced him with a look. Firm. Resolute. "Cover me."

Reluctantly, Ethan nodded, his hand resting on his gun, ready to draw at the first sign of trouble. He watched Rachel move forward, each step deliberate, her body swaying with the contour of the land.

"Careful," he muttered, though he knew she'd heard it a thousand times before.

The ledge constricted further, and Rachel pressed herself against the rock face, her movements fluid and silent. Ethan's gaze stayed locked on her, every sense alert.

Rachel hoisted herself up, fingers gripping the rough edges of the rock face. Dust and small pebbles skittered down as she found purchase for her boots. Each muscle in her arms bunched and released with animal grace.

"Careful up there," Ethan's voice barely rose above a whisper, the words laced with tension thick as desert heat.

"Copy that," came Rachel's terse reply, her attention never wavering from the climb. She ascended with purpose, movements calculated and precise. This was not just a physical endeavor but a mental one.

The danger of the climb focused her mind.

She reached a ledge, pulling herself up over the lip with a grunt of effort. On all fours, she crawled a few paces before rising to a crouch. Her eyes flicked across the terrain, keen as a hawk's. The sun beat down, unrelenting, casting stark shadows that played tricks on the eyes.

There. A disturbance in the dust. Shoe prints. She crouched lower, examining them. Men's boots, size eleven, perhaps. They led to an ATV. And the ATV disappeared off into the desert.

No way they were going to follow that on foot.

"Got something," she called down to Ethan, keeping her voice steady.

"Sign of our friend?" he asked, his tone betraying the urgency he felt.

"Looks like it. Stay alert," she warned, knowing full well he didn't need the reminder.

Rachel's fingers danced across her phone, the camera shutter clicking rapidly. Each angle captured, every detail preserved in digital clarity. The shoe prints would be examined. But a lot of men wore elevens. And the tread wasn't that unique.

"Got them," she muttered, her eyes not leaving the screen as she sent the images to their secure server. A breeze kicked up, sending grains of sand swirling around her boots. She squinted against the glare of the sun, her gaze traveling beyond the edge of the cliff.

There it was—a subtle inconsistency in the rocky fa?ade. Her pulse quickened. "Ethan," she called out, her voice sharp with excitement. "To your left. There's a path."

"Where?" His voice carried a note of skepticism, but he moved as directed, his own eyes searching.

"Keep going." She tracked his progress, her hand shielding her eyes from the harsh desert sun. "Just past that bulge in the rock."

"Got it." Ethan's figure grew smaller as he edged along the narrow ledge, his movements cautious but deliberate.

"Be careful," Rachel added, her concern for her partner momentarily overriding her focus on the mission. He was more than a colleague; he was the closest thing she had to family in this desolate expanse.

Ethan's boots crunched on loose gravel as he inched around the bulge, the ledge underfoot threatening to crumble. His breaths came short, sharp. The world tilted vertiginously. Then he saw what she'd spotted from above. She could tell by the way he tensed, his body rigid. A still form sprawled below, oddly twisted, disturbingly silent.

"Rachel?" He didn't turn his head, eyes fixed on the grim tableau. "Is that...?"

"Is it a body?" Her voice floated down, taut with urgency.

"Yeah." The word was a leaden weight on his tongue. "It's a body."