CHAPTER FIVE

Hours, she’d watched.

Patient, unmoving, unrelenting. She always had a knack for patience. When hunting big game, even the slightest sound might clue the creature into the threat.

She leaned out the car’s window, her left side aching where it pressed to the sill.

Rachel’s grip tightened on the scope, her breath measured in the still night air. Beside her, the interior of the unmarked car was a capsule of quiet intensity. Outside, the Hargreaves residence loomed, a dark silhouette against the starless sky.

"Anything?" Ethan Morgan's voice sliced through the silence, barely above a whisper.

"Quiet." Rachel's reply came with a sharp edge.

She adjusted the focus, the lens narrowing on the sprawling mansion. Windows stared back at her like blind eyes. Her gaze swept from one to the next, seeking a flicker of life, a shadow of movement. Each corner of the property lay under her scrutiny; every inch of the manicured lawn fell within her sight.

A porch light snapped on. Rachel's pulse quickened. She held her breath, waiting, watching. But nothing stirred. No figures emerged. The light seemed an empty threat in the vastness of the estate.

The night wore on, seconds stretching into minutes, each moment laden with expectation.

The scope felt heavy in Rachel's hands, but her arms did not falter. Her heritage had taught her how to endure, how to remain steadfast when others might crumble. And tonight, she would need every ounce of that resilience.

"Movement," she finally declared, her voice a low growl of triumph. A curtain twitched, a brief dance of fabric against glass.

“Is it Jasper?”

“Can’t tell. You find anything?”

She removed her gaze from the lens for a brief moment—the first time she’d done so in hours.

She glanced over at her partner.

Ethan's fingers flew across the keyboard, the faint clicking sound punctuating the silence that filled the car. His eyes darted across the laptop screen, a digital ledger sprawling before him like a maze of numbers and dates. He was searching for a thread to pull, something that would unravel Jasper Hargreaves' financial record.

Rachel shifted in her seat, the leather creaking under her weight. Her gaze lingered on Ethan, watching his every move with the intensity of a hawk. The air inside the vehicle felt thick, charged with the electricity of imminent revelation.

"Anything?" Her voice cut through the quiet. Sharp. Expectant.

Ethan didn't look up. "Digging through layers. Transactions buried deep." His words were terse, mirroring the seriousness of their task.

The glow from the laptop cast stark shadows over his puppy-dog eyes under his sandy crop of hair. Rachel's hands clenched and unclenched, the only sign of her growing impatience.

"Need a hit soon," she said, her tone steady.

She’d learned to keep her patience with Ethan. Not so much because he would hold it against her, but because she found he worked better when she was gentle.

It wasn’t a natural language to her. Gentleness was for indoor animals. She was an outdoor huntress, and in the forests and mountains, aggression was often the name of the game.

"Got something." Ethan's voice was low, almost lost in the hum of the idling engine. But Rachel heard it, loud as a gunshot in her ears.

"Tell me."

"Large payment. Last week. Oh… oh, holy shit." Quickly, her religious partner added, “Sorry, God. Holy sheeeets.”

“What is it?”

"Jasper Hargreaves transferred a large sum of money..." Ethan's voice trailed off, his eyes wide in the dim light. "To Cheryl Danvers."

Rachel's heart pounded in her chest, the rhythm echoing in her ears. She turned back to the scope, focusing on the mansion. Nothing. Still nothing. Her gaze snapped back to Ethan, seeking confirmation.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the fragile thread of revelation they were pulling on.

"I've checked it thrice." Ethan's tone was certain now, the initial shock giving way to the cool professionalism Rachel had come to rely on. "Cheryl received a hefty amount from Jasper Hargreaves' personal account."

Rachel sat back in her seat, her mind whirring like the engine of their vehicle. A lump sum payment. The night before, Cheryl had been murdered. It didn't add up unless... She felt bile rise in her throat at the thought.

"We need to bring him in." The words sliced through the charged silence with an air of finality.

Ethan nodded, closing his laptop with a soft click that seemed to echo in the confines of their car. "Agreed."

“Why would Jasper pay Cheryl, his ex-fiance?

“I don’t know.”

“How much?”

Ethan tilted the laptop screen again, and his fingers danced over the keys, the pale blue light of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. "Half a million dollars."

Her blood ran cold at the figure, a chill creeping up her spine despite the humid Texas night.

“Bribe?”

“Hush money?” he shot back.

“Or… something else?” Rachel asked.

They both drifted off into contemplative silence.

Ethan turned the laptop toward her, a line highlighted in blue. The sum was significant. It spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Rachel's pulse quickened. They were onto something. She reached for the brim of her white hat, which she'd removed to peer through the scope.

Rachel's gaze locked onto the Hargreaves residence, her eyes narrowing as she scoped the sprawling grounds. The green was still. No shadows flitted between the hedges or the water hazards. Yet there he was—Jasper Hargreaves, sauntering down the fairway with a golf club slung over his shoulder. The sky bruised into dusk; no golfer should be out this late.

"He’s back on the course," Rachel muttered. "Doesn't add up."

Ethan's fingers paused mid-stroke. They shared a look, one that questioned the normalcy of Jasper's leisurely pursuit against the backdrop of their investigation.

"We need to bring him in." Her declaration was solid. "Questioning. Now."

"Agreed." Ethan closed the laptop with a quiet snap. Their course was set.

She lowered her rifle and adjusted the hat back onto her head with no small amount of relief.

The engine roared to life beneath Rachel's steady hands. She threw the vehicle into drive, tires crunching over loose stones as they sped toward the Hargreaves estate. Beside her, Ethan's fingers danced across his phone, the screen's glow painting stark contrasts over his focused face.

"Time?" Rachel's voice cut through the cabin's silence like a scalpel.

"Twenty-two minutes past midnight." Ethan's reply, clipped and even.

The road ahead lay bathed in the harsh beams of their headlights, every turn an echo of urgency. Trees blurred past, their branches clawing at the dark sky. Rachel's grip tightened on the wheel. Muscles tensed. Resolve hardened.

Ethan checked the rearview mirror, then the side. No trailing lights. No following cars. "Clear.”

Brake lights flashed briefly as the car took a sharp bend, inertia pressing them against leather seats. Ahead, the wrought iron gates of the Hargreaves estate loomed.

But this time, they wouldn’t meet in Jasper’s comfort zone.

He was coming with them.

Whether he liked it or not.