CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rachel Kim burst through the front door of her Coldwater mansion, her stilettos clicking angrily against the polished marble floor of her foyer.

"Mochi?" she called out, her voice tinged with frustration. "Where are you, you little furball?"

No answering yap came in response, which was unusual. Mochi, her beloved Shih Tzu, always greeted her at the door with excited barks and wagging tail. But today, the house remained oddly quiet.

Rachel sighed, dropping her designer handbag on the antique side table by the door. This day was turning into a complete disaster. First, her dog-sitter had called out at the last minute, forcing her to rush home in the middle of the workday to let Mochi out. Now, she was going to miss the most important meeting of her career so far.

As the youngest executive at Elbridge Tech, Rachel had worked tirelessly to prove herself. At twenty-six, she'd already climbed the corporate ladder faster than anyone else in the company's history. But she knew that in the cutthroat world of tech startups, you were only as good as your last success.

Today's meeting was with a group of potential investors from Silicon Valley. If she could secure their funding, it would catapult Elbridge Tech into the big leagues. More importantly, it would cement her position as a rising star in the industry.

But now, because of her irresponsible dog-sitter and her own soft spot for her furry companion, she was going to miss it.

Why didn't I just let him pee on the rug? She thought. It wouldn't be the first time he's done it.

But she knew the reason. Mochi didn't like peeing in the house, and so he would hold it as long as he could—which was how he'd developed a UTI and then a near-fatal kidney infection just last year. Rachel cared too much for the little furball to risk that happening again.

Her thoughts drifted to the day she'd gotten Mochi. It had been just after her grandmother's funeral three years ago. She'd been devastated by her grandmother's death, feeling alone in a world that suddenly seemed much colder. Her parents, ever practical, had suggested she focus on her career to distract herself from the grief. But Rachel had needed something more.

She'd found Mochi at a local shelter, a tiny ball of fluff with soulful eyes that seemed to see right through her carefully constructed fa?ade of strength. In that moment, she'd known she needed this little dog as much as he needed her.

Since then, Mochi had been her constant companion, her confidant, and her anchor in the stormy seas of her high-pressure life. He was the one being she could be completely herself around, without fear of judgment or expectations.

"Mochi?" Rachel called again, a note of worry creeping into her voice. She moved further into the house, her heels now sinking into the plush carpet of the living room. "Come on, boy. Where are you hiding?"

She checked all of Mochi's favorite spots: under the coffee table, behind the couch, in the laundry room where he liked to curl up in warm piles of clothes. But there was no sign of him anywhere.

A cold knot of fear began to form in Rachel's stomach. Had Mochi somehow gotten out? But how? The house was secure, with top-of-the-line locks and an expensive security system. She'd made sure of that after reading about a series of break-ins in the neighborhood last year.

Just as she was about to call the local animal control, a knock at the door startled her. Rachel hesitated, her hand hovering over her phone. Who could that be? She wasn't expecting anyone, and solicitors rarely made it past the gated community's security.

If it's one of those nutjobs handing out pamphlets again…

Another knock, more insistent this time. Rachel smoothed her skirt and made her way back to the foyer. Through the frosted glass panels flanking the door, she could make out the silhouette of a man.

What was that in his arms?

Taking a deep breath, Rachel opened the door. There, on her doorstep, stood a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes. In his arms was a familiar ball of fluff.

"Mochi!" Rachel exclaimed, relief flooding through her.

The man smiled, holding out the squirming dog. "I believe this little fellow belongs to you?"

Rachel scooped Mochi into her arms, hugging him tight. "Yes, yes he does. Oh, thank you so much! Where did you find him?"

"He was wandering down Maple Street, looking quite lost," the man said. "Luckily, one of the neighbors recognized him. I'm Jack, by the way. I live a few blocks over on Elm."

Rachel nodded—he did look vaguely familiar. "I'm Rachel. I can't thank you enough, Jack. I was so worried when I couldn't find him."

Jack waved off her thanks. "It was no trouble at all. I'm just glad I could reunite you two." He paused, looking slightly embarrassed. "I hate to impose, but would you mind if I washed my hands? My wife is terribly allergic to dogs, and I'd rather not bring any fur home with me."

Rachel hesitated. She generally didn't like letting strangers into her home, but this man had just done her an enormous favor. It seemed ungrateful to refuse such a simple request.

"Of course," she said, stepping back to allow him entry. "The powder room is just down the hall, first door on the left."

Jack smiled gratefully and stepped inside. Rachel closed the door behind him, still cuddling Mochi close. She'd have to figure out how he'd gotten out later. For now, she was just relieved to have him back safe and sound.

As Jack disappeared down the hallway, Rachel set Mochi down and grabbed her phone. She fired off a quick text to her assistant, explaining the situation and asking her to reschedule the investor meeting if possible. It was a long shot, but maybe she could still salvage this day.

She was just setting the phone down on a table when a voice from behind her startled her. "You have a lovely home," Jack said. She hadn't heard him return.

"Oh, thank you," Rachel replied, turning to face him. "I've put a lot of work into it."

Jack nodded, his eyes roaming over the expensive furnishings and artwork. "I can see that. It's quite...impressive."

There was something in his tone that made Rachel uneasy. It wasn't quite disapproval, but it wasn't admiration either. She suddenly felt the urge to defend herself, though she wasn't sure why.

"I've worked hard to get where I am," she said, her chin lifting slightly.

Jack's eyes snapped back to her, a strange intensity in his gaze. "I'm sure you have. But tell me, Rachel, do you ever feel like something's missing? Like all of this," he gestured around the room, "isn't quite enough?"

Rachel blinked, taken aback by the personal nature of the question. "I...I'm not sure what you mean."

Jack took a step closer, and Rachel instinctively took one back. "I mean, do you ever feel an emptiness in your life? A longing for something more...spiritual?"

Alarm bells began to ring in Rachel's head. This conversation had taken a bizarre turn, and she was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

"I'm an atheist, actually," she said, hoping to shut down this line of questioning. "I don't really believe in anything spiritual."

Jack's face darkened, and Rachel resisted the urge to shudder. "That's a shame," he said, his voice low and intense. "A young woman like you, wallowing in the darkness of your own disbelief. It's not too late to save your soul, you know."

Rachel's heart began to race. This wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong. She needed to get this man out of her house now.

"I think you should leave," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Thank you again for bringing Mochi back, but I have a lot of work to do."

Jack didn't move. Instead, his eyes seemed to bore into her, filled with a fervor that frightened her. "I can't leave you like this, Rachel. You need to be shown the error of your ways. You need to be cleansed. Join me and I will show you the truth."

Rachel's blood ran cold. Join him? What in the world was he talking about? Her mind flashed to the news reports she'd been seeing lately, about a killer targeting women in Coldwater. Could it be...?

She needed to call for help. Her phone was on the side table, just a few feet away. If she could just reach it...

"I...I appreciate your concern," she said, forcing a smile as she picked up her phone again, trying to act casual about it. "But really, I'm fine. I'm happy with my life as it is."

Jack shook his head sadly. "No, you're not. You're lost, Rachel. Only I can help you—nobody else."

She pretended not to have heard him. "The whole company seems to fall apart as soon as I'm gone," she said with a nervous laugh, tapping away at the phone as if sending a text to a colleague. Instead, however, she dialed 9-1-1.

Keep him talking, she thought. Keep him distracted.

"Do you have a job, Jack?" she asked, glancing up from her phone. Then she froze in horror. Jack was now holding an ornate brass candlestick—one she recognized from her own dining room.

Jack raised the candlestick, a serene smile on his face that contrasted horrifically with the violence of his posture. "I gave you a chance, Rachel, but you refused. This is on you."

Rachel screamed as Jack lunged forward, the candlestick arcing through the air toward her head. She ducked, feeling the rush of air as it narrowly missed her. Mochi was barking frantically, adding to the chaos.

She scrambled away, her heels slipping on the polished floor. Jack pursued her, his face twisted into a mask of righteous fury. Rachel's mind raced, searching for a way out. The front door was blocked. The back door was too far. She needed a weapon, something to defend herself with.

As she rounded the kitchen island, her hand closed around the handle of a heavy cast iron skillet. Without thinking, she swung it with all her might.

Jack raised his arm, and the pan collided with his elbow, ringing hollowly. He let out an angry cry. Rachel dropped the skillet and ran for the front door, Mochi at her heels.

She was opening the door when something struck her from behind. There was no pain—just a flash of light and a strange numbness. Then she was falling, falling to the tiled floor, and the last thing she knew was the softness of Mochi's tongue on her cheek.