One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (free e books to read TXT) 📗

later a woman appeared at the door. She was dressed in plain clothing and letting off the scent of Pine-Sol, as if she were in the midst of cleaning. But oddly, her face was caked in thick makeup.

She looked them up and down, startled by their presence.

“Can I help you?” she asked while carefully tugging at her long sleeves, even though it was a warm day.

Tara narrowed her eyes. “Is Greg Davis around?”

At Tara’s question, a look of fear washed over her and she reached for her short blonde bob, untucking her hair from behind her ear. It was like watching a curtain fall in someone’s window, shielding a view they wouldn’t want outsiders to see. But Tara could already see what she was trying to conceal—a fresh bruise—because no makeup or hair could hide the slight distortion of her face caused by a swollen cheek.

“Who’s asking?” she finally questioned.

“We’re with the FBI,” Tara said as she flashed her badge. “We just wanted to ask him a couple questions. Are you his wife?”

A look of concern swept over her as she nodded. “Is he in some kind of trouble?” she blurted, before realizing her words could be too telling.

She stroked her hair anxiously once more, making sure it had fallen into its proper place.

Suddenly Warren spoke. “No, ma’am, we just want to talk to him.”

The woman’s eyes fell to the floor as she shook her head. “He’s out hunting.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Tara asked.

She shook her head again. “Maybe tomorrow?” she guessed. “He stays overnight usually in our cabin.”

Tara and Warren shared a quick glance before Tara spoke. “When did he leave?”

A silence fell around them and the woman sighed. She was growing nervous by their incessant questioning.

“Like we said, he’s not in any trouble,” Warren added again.

But Tara knew that wasn’t what was troubling her. There was something about her that gave Tara a strange feeling—a familiarity. She had never met this woman before, yet she had seen this behavior—the awkward nervousness caused by a broken interior. It was like looking into the eyes of someone she knew well—her mother.

“We won’t tell him we were here if you’d like,” Tara finally said.

The woman remained quiet for a moment longer, ignoring the remark, but her face relaxed.

“He left yesterday morning,” she finally revealed.

Tara placed the pieces carefully together in her head. He had been gone since yesterday, before evidence showed he met the victim, and yet he still hadn’t come home. It all sounded premeditated and now, after meeting his wife, it was evident that he seemed violent.

“Would you be able to give us an address for the cabin?” Tara asked.

The woman nodded before leaving the room and coming back moments later with a pen and paper. She scribbled something on it and handed it to Tara.

Tara thanked her, but before they said their goodbyes, Tara asked her one last question. “May I ask what happened to your cheek?”

The woman’s hand instinctually covered the area of her face. She stood there, dumbfounded, as redness seeped to the surface of her skin. But then a look of horror flashed before Tara as the woman realized why she would ask that—that her husband might actually be in trouble after all—and that could only mean that she would now be too, but at the hands of him.

“I fell,” she finally blurted before slamming the door in their faces.

***

Warren pulled onto a side road as they neared their destination, and Tara looked up from the map on her phone. She had just finished reading the last direction to Warren and now they sat in silence, as Tara felt awkwardness sweep through the car.

She finally looked over at him. His eyes were unwaveringly focused in front of him, but she decided to speak to ease her anxiety. She hated silence.

“You think it’s him?” she asked.

Warren glanced over at her and then back at the road.

“It’s possible,” he said. “The shop owner sure didn’t know him as well as he thought.”

Tara knew he was referring to the marks on Greg Davis’s wife. Warren’s words were short, as they usually were, yet he didn’t need to elaborate. His voice was laced with doubt, which only justified Tara’s own inner feelings. It was something that was left unsettled within her gut—that this would be too easy and that this killer seemed too smart. After all, he was smart enough to take the arrows, the belongings of the victims, and the bodies of the first two. Yet, he left the compasses strategically. Everything about the crime scene was strategic. And at that thought, the same question crossed her mind: would someone who thought so thoroughly about not leaving evidence fail to think of store cameras?

She glanced over at Warren once more.

“Part of it just doesn’t add up to me,” she said. “The cameras…why would he be so careful about not leaving evidence at the crime scenes but yet let himself be seen?” She turned to Warren in her seat. “Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Warren nodded. “You think he’s too smart?” he asked.

“Don’t you?”

Warren pulled into a long driveway. “It’s definitely something I’ve thought about,” he confirmed. “But we need to be prepared for the worst.”

His words lingered in the car as it bounced along the unpaved driveway. He was right; they needed to be mentally prepared for the worst, even if they had doubt in their mind.

Tara stared in front of her as a weathered log cabin came into view. It was a decent size, surrounded by only the forest. But unlike the house they just came from, this cabin showed the marks of time—a discoloration in the wood and a roof that needed new shingling. A car was in the driveway and Tara braced herself for the man they were about to meet. As Warren put the car in park, Tara heard something. At first it was only faint, but she listened intently and when the car shuddered to a halt, she