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

had a moment of hope that he wouldn’t be that mad—that he changed his mind? She went against him. She went against everyone.

“Shit,” she said under her breath.

She had ten minutes and he was calling Reinhardt, yet she knew she already had gone too far. Even if she turned back now, even if she never approached the bed & breakfast she was driving to, she still took evidence, she still went against Warren, and she still went off with an intention to find the killer on her own. She would lose her job.

She took a look at her GPS. She wasn’t far. She reached for her phone again and switched it to silent. If she was going to do this, she knew she needed no distractions. No second thoughts. She placed her phone back down and clenched the steering wheel with both hands and focused on the road ahead of her. It was still early and there were no cars on the road. She rolled down her window, letting a breeze flow through, sending goosebumps up her neck that was slicked with sweat.

But she couldn’t control her eyes as they continuously glanced at the clock on her dashboard, as they watched each minute pass by, as they then glanced down toward her phone, to a black screen. She thought of turning it off, but somehow she couldn’t bear to do it. In some odd way it felt too defiant, too final, even though in the back of her mind she knew that the actions she’d already taken spoke louder.

The clock continued to pass the time. Five minutes passed by, then six, then seven, then eight, then nine, and then ten…

She stared for a moment at the phone, expecting it to jump from its seat, but as each minute passed by after, she wondered if Reinhardt was even going to call at all, but then suddenly, it lit up.

Reinhardt, it read, and Tara’s heart immediately raced. Should I pick up? she asked herself. It was one thing to ignore Warren, but to ignore her boss was different. Maybe he’ll listen to me. Maybe I can explain myself.

Her hand shook as she reached for her phone and picked up.

Tara didn’t even get a chance to speak before Reinhardt’s voice shook through the phone, sending chills through her body.

“Mills! Where the fuck are you?!” he screamed.

Tara’s heart pounded in her chest. She’d never seen Reinhardt angry, and this was beyond angry.

“If you could just listen,” she started. “I don’t think James Hayden is the killer. I found something. I—”

“And you thought you could just take it upon yourself to go off alone? Who the hell do you think you are?!”

“I—”

“You have fifteen minutes Mills! Fifteen minutes! If I don’t get word from Warren that you’re back at your hotel, you’re fired! You hear me?!”

Tara was about to respond when she heard the click on the other end. She looked at her GPS. She was almost there. She gripped the steering wheel once again, feeling more determined than ever to find answers.

***

Tara pulled off the main road onto a side street that was quiet and heavily wooded. Fractured sunlight shined through the forest green trees, and at times it hit Tara in the eyes, causing her to squint to see in front of her.

A sign peeked out onto the road ahead of her. She squinted to read it, but she could already tell from a distance that it was weathered with faded lettering. As she got closer, the wooden sign became unmistakably visible and she could see that it marked the entrance to a dirt road. She turned onto it, before letting her car roll to a stop by the sign.

Tara stared at it for a moment. Caked with dirt and age, the words SUNSET BED AND BREAKFAST were barely visible. It was the right place, and Tara could feel a surge of adrenaline at the realization. But just as Tara’s eyes moved above the carefully carved lettering, she recognized something else—almost completely weathered away was the engraving of a setting sun, the same sun carved into the trees at the crime scenes.

This was it. She knew it now for sure. And for the first time, she felt how dangerous this situation could be. She was walking into this alone, with little experience, with not even Warren knowing where she was. She felt a sudden urge to call him and wait for his arrival. But if she was right, if the killer could be taking his victims back alive, she knew she didn’t have that time to waste.

She grabbed her phone and texted Warren the address. It would’ve been stupid of her not to let anyone know where she is. She just hoped he would come before it was too late. She switched her phone to silent and her foot hit the gas pedal. The car bounced up and down on the rock-lined dirt road as it neared the B&B.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as the road opened up into a clearing. As she saw the sight in front of her, her eyes opened wide. The road opened up into acres of fields with perfectly green grass and a beautifully manicured garden. Behind the garden sat the looks of an old mansion, weathered and decayed, just like the sign. But just behind the garden, Tara spotted movement. It was a woman, whose eyes looked up as Tara neared the end of the driveway. It was the owner, Tara assumed.

The woman stood in a long floral dress that just swept the ground, watering a rose bush. When done, she turned around to face Tara’s car, which had already rounded the driveway and was now parked right before the building. The woman smiled at her—an odd, hollow smile—that suddenly gave Tara a strange feeling. There was an eeriness about her. Maybe it was the smile, or her long stark white hair that fell to the middle of her