One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (speld decodable readers txt) 📗

Without hesitation, he nodded. He already had a strong buzz, but tonight he deserved it.

“Where are your friends tonight?” she asked, beaming.

“Tired.” He laughed. “We all had a long day.”

She nodded. She understood. And without another word, she turned on her heels, the smile still plastered on her face as she moved to the bar to place his usual order.

At her exit, his eyes moved to the television, sitting over the bar. The news was on. His story was on, the story he had created. It was everywhere, on every station, on ever television in everyone’s home, in every restaurant—it made him glow with pride.

A picture of the girl he had recently buried hung in the corner of the screen as an anchor pleaded for anyone with information to step forward. The station then cut to a reporter standing outside in the dark, highlighted only by the production lights behind the camera and the lights of the search crew that lined the beach behind her.

“I’m here reporting from Fowler Beach, where law enforcement has been diligently searching for any sign of Sofia Hernandez,” she started. “So far, no trace of her whereabouts has been reported, and no body has been found, but law enforcement has been extending their efforts.”

As he stared at the television, listening to the reporter’s words, he knew exactly where she stood, because he had stood there too. The search was closing in, they were getting closer, and his body tingled with excitement. He knew exactly what they were going to find; it was only a matter of time.

Chapter Twenty One

Tara woke up with a startle to her phone ringing on the coffee table. She looked around her. She was in the living room, the floor light still on, her laptop still in her lap. Sunlight was beginning to peak into the room, and it sent a shockwave through her as she realized it was dawn.

She quickly reached for her phone. Warren’s name flashed across the screen. He must have news, she realized as her hazy, tired mind began to awaken. She picked up.

“Mills,” he said before she could even say hello. His voice was tense with urgency, and before he even said his next words, Tara knew what he was going to say. She felt a sudden rush to her head. “They found a body. It looks like Sofia’s,” he added, confirming what Tara felt in her core but desperately hoped not to hear. Her heart sank as she fully sat up.

“Where?” A wave of guilt rose up.

“Fowler Beach. It’s about a half hour north of Dewey.” Warren’s words were short and rushed. Tara could tell he was in the car. She could hear the constant hum of a motor.

She stood up, placing her laptop on the coffee table. “I’ll meet you there,” she said. She didn’t need to hear more. Warren mentioned where to meet, and they quickly said their goodbyes.

Tara placed her phone on the coffee table. She was about to make her way to her bedroom and get ready, but she lingered momentarily. The laptop caught her eye. In the commotion of answering Warren’s call, she had almost forgotten why she woke up on the couch in the first place. Mackenzie James still lingered in her mind, but she didn’t have time to focus on that now. This case needed her more. Tara turned away from the laptop and hurriedly made way to her bedroom.

***

Tara pulled up along a dead-end sandy road. Warren’s car was already there, parked behind a row of forensic vehicles and cop cars. No news vans had arrived yet, but Tara knew it was only a matter of time.

Unlike Dewey Beach, this one was a bit off the beaten path. Tara had driven about a mile without seeing a single home, and she was almost certain that none lined the beach in front of her. She parked and looked toward the row of beach grass between her and the water. Not a single home could be seen. She knew it would make their job more difficult. Even though there were no witnesses at the last scene, there certainly wouldn’t be any here, unless the killer did something foolish, and Tara knew he wouldn’t.

She stepped out of the car and made her way to the entranceway of the beach. The wind blew wildly, sweeping up little beads of sand until they struck her face as she walked. She squinted until they passed. And as she opened her eyes wide again, she could see a news van approaching. It bumped along the old road and then turned sharply to park, sending a cloud of sand into the air. The van came to an abrupt halt, and a male reporter jumped out, along with a cameraman, hoisting his heavy gear on his shoulder. It was the same reporter that had shoved a microphone in Tara’s face at the medical examiner’s office. He made eye contact with her briefly, but Tara quickly turned. She wasn’t ready to answer any questions.

Pretty soon, a row of news vans paraded down the street. Another one parked quickly, and a tall brunette swung open the passenger door, microphone already in hand. Tara knew it was only a matter of time before they would hound her. She reached the pathway and stepped over the yellow tape tied to each end of the sand fencing. She was quickly out of his reach, and she was thankful for that.

She focused ahead of her as she hurried onto the beach. She could see Warren up ahead, about two hundred yards away, standing atop the dunes. He was talking to someone, and as Tara grew closer, she could see that it was a cop she did not recognize, dressed in uniform. Forensics personnel were scattered around them, searching diligently in the sand for anything of substance. Warren didn’t even see Tara was approaching. He and the officer were staring at the ground between