Page 24 of Her Last Warning (Rachel Gift #21)

The rain seemed content to barely fall at all, just enough to require the minimum setting on the car's windshield wipers.

They scraped along the windshield with a little whining groan as Novak turned back onto Park Avenue.

Dusk had officially fallen across the city by then, giving the wet cobblestone an odd glow in the headlights and painted the streets in shades of slate and shadow.

Streetlights were just beginning to flicker on, their glow diffused by the persistent drizzle into hazy halos that did little to pierce the growing darkness.

Rachel shifted in her seat, her muscles tense from hours of driving.

The case had been consuming her thoughts in a way most past cases had not, each victim's face etched in her memory.

Robert Hayes. Marcy Connors. Michelle Lester.

And now, if they didn't move quickly enough, David Shook might join that list. She couldn't let that happen. Not again.

As they drew closer to where the unmarked police unit was parked, Rachel pulled out her phone and brought up the last number to call her—Officer Nelson. She called him back, putting it on speaker so Novak could hear as David Shook's house came into view through the rain-streaked windshield.

"What do we have?" she asked, keeping her voice low despite their distance from the target location.

"Grey Honda Civic, two spaces in from the end of the block," Nelson reported, his voice crackling slightly over the connection. "Same side as Shook's house. Been there twenty-five minutes now. The driver is female and so far, she’s gotten out twice."

"But she’s still in the car?”

“Yeah. It’s odd. The first time was about twenty minutes ago," Nelson began.

"She got out casual-like, no hurry. Walked up past Shook's place, maybe fifty feet or so beyond his house.

Just strolling, like she was looking for an address, you know the type?

Kept checking her phone, like she was confirming a location. "

"What was she wearing?" Rachel interrupted, her mind already building a profile.

"Dark jeans, grey sweater. Nothing remarkable.

Turned around, went back to her car after maybe two minutes.

" Nelson paused. "Second time was different though.

This time, she had put on a black zip-up hoodie.

Only went about five feet from her vehicle, but she stood there staring toward Shook's house for a good minute before getting back in. "

"Any interaction with passing pedestrians?" Novak cut in, his eyes scanning the street ahead.

"None. She actually seemed to actively avoid eye contact with the few people who passed by. Kept her head down, turned away when anyone got close."

Rachel's jaw tightened. "How long ago was the second exit?"

"Ten minutes. She's been sitting there ever since. Engine's off, but she's still in there."

"What about the house?" Rachel asked. "Any movement from Shook?"

"Lights came on about thirty minutes ago when it started to get dark. Saw him through the front window briefly, looked like he was on the phone. Nothing since then."

Rachel nodded, though Nelson couldn't see it. "Thanks to both of you. For now…just stay on standby. We might need you before this is all over." She ended the call and turned to Novak. "Find us a spot where we can watch that Civic without being obvious."

Novak guided their unmarked car down another block, pulling into a space that gave them a clear view of their target while keeping them partially concealed by a large delivery van.

The rain pattered steadily on the roof as they watched the Honda, its grey paint almost silver in the gathering darkness.

"Classic pre-attack surveillance," Novak said quietly, his eyes fixed on the Civic. "The first pass – that's getting the lay of the land. Checking for cameras, security systems, escape routes. You see it in every planned attack. I guarantee you this is not her first time checking out the house."

Rachel nodded, her fingers drumming unconsciously on her thigh.

"Second pass is different. Shorter, more focused.

She's confirming specific details now. Entry points, lighting.

.." She trailed off, that familiar leaden weight of certainty settling in her stomach as the darkness thickened around them. “Maybe even working up her nerve.”

"The clothing change is telling," Novak continued, shifting slightly to maintain his view of the target vehicle. "She's preparing. Getting ready to move. The black hoodie would make it harder for her to be seen while also hiding her face directly.”

"And the sustained observation period – she's waiting for optimal conditions." Rachel checked her watch, the illuminated face reading 6:04 PM. "Dusk is perfect. Still enough light to see what you're doing, but growing dark enough to help conceal movement."

"You shocked it’s a woman?” he asked.

“Not really. If this entire quest of theirs has been about seeking some sort of revenge for a loss they’ve suffered women are just as susceptible of falling prey to that as men. Maybe even more.”

Novak nodded his agreement. "Maybe this is more than a revenge-fueled rampage. She's calculating. Cold." He paused, watching a couple hurry past the Civic, huddled together under a shared umbrella. "Should we confront her now, while she’s in the car?”

Rachel had considered it herself but found that it might be better to catch her in the act. It would make it harder for her to backpedal and come up with excuses. There was a very small risk involved, but nothing she and Novak couldn’t handle.

They fell comfortably into silence, the only sound the steady patter of rain and the occasional swish of cars passing on the wet street.

Rachel felt her muscles tensing, that pre-action coiling that came from years of experience.

Something was about to happen. She could feel it in the air, in the way the shadows seemed to deepen with each passing minute.

"There," Novak breathed suddenly. "Movement."

Several minutes had passed before the Civic's driver's door opened.

The woman emerged, the black hoodie pulled up over her head against the rain.

There was no hesitation now – she closed her door with purpose and instantly moved directly toward Shook's house with confident steps, her movements fluid and controlled.

Rachel moved fast but silently, easing her door open and slipping out into the cold drizzle.

"Twenty seconds," she murmured to Novak.

"Then follow my lead. If she makes it inside before we can intercept, you take the front.

" She saw his slight nod as she pushed the passenger door nearly closed, careful not to let it latch.

The rain immediately began working its way through her jacket as she started walking, head down, hands stuffed in her pockets.

Playing the role of just another person hurrying home on a miserable evening.

She kept her pace brisk but not rushed, fighting the urge to speed up as she watched the woman approach Shook's house from beneath lowered lashes.

Her heart was pounding now, but her breathing remained steady, controlled.

She felt her Glock at her hip, covered by her jacket, felt the chill of the January rain trying to find its way into her bones.

Her quarry was nearly at the property when she suddenly veered right, disappearing down a narrow paved driveway between Shook's house and its neighbor.

The entire left side was mostly hidden by old boxwoods.

Rachel's pulse quickened. "Shit," she breathed, worried their surveillance had been spotted—that the suspect somehow knew they had eyes on them.

A quick glance back showed Novak emerging from their car, moving with the same calculated casualness she'd adopted.

She caught his eye, gestured toward the front of the house, then quickened her pace to follow the woman's path.

You still take the front, she was trying to say without actually using words.

As she turned into the driveway, Rachel drew her Glock with practiced smoothness, keeping it close to her body.

The rain seemed to muffle everything except the sound of her own breathing and the soft splash of her footsteps on the wet pavement.

Water dripped from the overhanging eaves, creating curtains of droplets that distorted her view of the path ahead.

Somewhere nearby, a car horn blared, making her startle slightly.

She forced herself to maintain her pace, fighting the urge to rush forward.

Ahead, the sound of a soft clatter made her freeze momentarily, her hand going to her Glock but not yet drawing it.. Was the suspect armed? Had she dropped something? Then came another sound, this one immediately recognizable: the distinct click of a key sliding into a lock.

Rachel's mind raced. A key. How did she have a key?

Because she’s scoped this place out previously, she thought. She probably knows where a spare key is. It’s why there have been so signs of breaking and entering at any of the crime scenes. Planning…determination…study. This woman is smart.

Rachel's training took over, taking the wheel behind her thoughts like an elongated form of muscle memory.

She accelerated, moving quickly but quietly through the growing darkness.

The drizzle had plastered a bit of hair to her face, but she barely noticed.

As she reached the back stoop, light spilled out from the newly opened door, silhouetting the woman's figure in perfect clarity against the warm interior glow.

Rachel finally drew her Glock and levelled it at the woman.

"FBI! Freeze!" Rachel's voice cut through the rain-soaked silence as she brought her weapon up.

The woman went rigid, half-turned as if considering making a break for it through the house.

Rachel didn't give her the chance. The woman’s hesitation was her downfall.

Rachel closed the distance in three quick steps, pressing the suspect against the doorframe with practiced efficiency.

"Hands behind your back," she ordered, her voice hard. The woman complied wordlessly as Rachel secured the cuffs, the metal cold and wet against both their skin. From the front of the house came the sound of Novak's knock, sharp and authoritative. “Mr. Shook?” he was shouting. “Agent Novak, FBI!”

Rachel allowed herself a small breath of relief as she began reciting the Miranda rights, the words nearly lost in the steady patter of rain.

They seemed to have their killer. But even as she secured her prisoner, a nagging voice in the back of her mind wondered if it had all been just a little too easy.

In her experience, things that seemed too easy usually meant you were missing something important – something that would come back to bite you when you least expected it.

The rain continued to fall, and somewhere in the darkness, Rachel could have sworn she heard the sound of quiet laughter.

Maybe from another house, or someone out on the wet streets, completely ignorant to what was taking place in one of the homes they were passing by.

It reminded her, suddenly and inexplicably, of Cody Austin—laughing silently while Rachel was distracted and afraid.

She pushed the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. One monster at a time.

Through the open door, she could hear Novak's voice now, presumably explaining the situation to David Shook.

She tightened her grip on the suspect's arm, preparing to move her.

The woman's hood had fallen back during the arrest, revealing short grey hair plastered to her skull by the rain.

As Rachel turned her around, she caught her first clear look at the woman's face. She was pretty, her blonde hair showing darker roots, her blue eyes like crystals. But when Rachel saw the sadness in the woman’s eyes—the absolute horror and pain of knowing she had been stopped from whatever work she had set herself to--Rachel knew deep down that there was more to this story.

And she intended to find out what it was.