CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Father knew they’d find the muggers’ bodies soon. They had already stumbled upon Eleanor.

“I did what had to be done,” he whispered under his breath.

Now, he stood on the dune, his scope pressed against his eye as he peered at the responding officers near the spot he’d left Eleanor.

“Don’t disturb her rest,” he whispered under his breath, feeling his voice catch. He let out a slow, leaking sigh. His eyes were laden with unshed tears. How much had he already wept?

He released a slow, pent-up breath. His desire to help was only growing. At least, that’s what he wanted to call it.

Helping.

But as he murmured a soft prayer under his breath, he also knew he wanted more. To enjoy what came next. The pleasure of it.

It all mattered to him.

He grinned to himself, flashing his teeth in the dark as he steadied his scope, viewing the police officers moving about at the crime scene.

“Who else needs my help?” he whispered.

The cool desert breeze rustled through the sparse brush around him, his ATV's engine humming impatiently. The lights from the crime scene illuminated the barren landscape, casting long, eerie shadows that danced in the night.

His gaze never left the lens of his scope. He watched as a woman - Ranger Blackwood, he presumed - moved among the chaos. He’d seen her leave and then return. She was the one who’d harassed Grant and Morris.

His lips curled. He knew pain. Knew suffering. Her sharp features and stern demeanor were unmistakable, even at a distance.

His lips curled into a smirk. Here was someone who thought she was in control. Someone who thought she could bring him to justice.

He would prove her wrong.

His gaze shifted, scanning the perimeter of the crime scene. Where was the next one? Where was his next victim? The excitement bubbled within him, a dark thrill that coursed through his veins.

"Who else?" he murmured again, almost to himself. His fingers traced over the weapon in his hand, feeling its familiar weight and cold touch.

In the distance, he saw a group of officers huddled together, their anxious faces barely visible under their hats and helmets. A flicker of movement caught his eye - a man walking alone towards his car parked on a secluded road.

Ethan Morgan.

He'd watched the two rangers leave a few hours ago. Now they were back. The darkness of the dead of night seeped into early morning.

“Ranger Morgan,” he whispered, staring at the sandy-haired man moving along the parking lot.

Where had they gone?

Of course… he knew where they'd been. He checked his phone, where the chaplain assigned to the hospital had warned him.

The text message read, Rangers here. Checking footage.

He scrolled to the photos his old friend had sent him.

The images were blurry, taken from a distance. But they depicted a familiar scene. Rachel and Ethan, standing within a secured room, their backs turned to the camera as they watched the footage.

His gaze lingered on the last image - Rachel pointing urgently at a screen. A cold chill ran down his spine. Had they found him? Had they seen what he did?

His grip tightened around his weapon as he watched Ethan disappear into his car. He made a mental note of this. The detective was alone... vulnerable.

He suppressed a shiver of anticipation.

"Ranger Morgan," he repeated, savoring the taste of the name on his tongue. The weaker of the two rangers. Too trusting. Didn't Ethan know Rachel Blackwood was a danger? A menace?

He needed to help Ethan to realize. To save him from the coming pain.

Suddenly, the sounds of distant sirens filled the air, echoing eerily through the arid expanse. He lowered his scope and turned his attention back to his phone. The screen glowed ominously in the darkness.

APB out, it read, Suspect: white male, red cap, green sedan, partial plate GT4.

His heart pounded in his chest. They were closing in... faster than he'd expected.

A fresh surge of anticipation washed over him. This was part of the thrill - the chase. They thought they had him cornered, but that was far from reality.

He stowed away his scope and turned the ATV's engine to life with a swift jerk of his wrist. The roar echoed through the silence of the predawn hours.

Looking back one last time at the distant crime scene, he relished in the sight - chaos and confusion reigned under flickering police lights.

Humming under his breath, he veered away, down the dune.

He sped up the dusty desert trail, racing in the direction of the parking lot near the crime scene.

He needed to help. To save. To protect.

His body ached. Pain up and down his wrist and arms. His shoulder throbbed.

He needed to see it through.