Page 33 of Her Last Farewell

Rachel's eyes returned to that distant light, barely visible through the trees. She could feel the weight of the darkness around them, the oppressive silence of the forest, and the watchful presence of whoever might be out there in the night.

With a deep and confident breath, she said: "I'm going to be bait.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Novak looked at her as if she had lost her mind, but then a dim sort of understanding fell across his features. He sighed and shook his head.

"We need backup," Novak insisted, his voice tight with concern as he glanced between Rachel and the distant glow through the trees. "This is crazy, Rachel. At least let me call in tactical support."

Rachel shook her head firmly, her eyes fixed on that faint light barely visible through the dense forest. The autumn night had stripped the trees nearly bare, leaving only skeletal branches that swayed and creaked in the chill wind. "If we call for backup now, we'll spook him. Multiple cars, tactical teams moving through the woods – he'll know something's up." She turned to face her partner, noting the worry etched across his features in the dim moonlight. "Look, he might have already seen our headlights cutting through the trees. If that's him over there, he could be on his way right now. We might only get one shot at this."

“And if it’s not him?”

“If it’s not him, then I’m wrong. But you have to admit…it does seem to all line up.”

“Maybe we just go over there and see who lives there,” Novak suggested.

“I thought of that. But if itishim, that would certainly spook him, too. But if we can catch him in the act, this is over.”

Novak ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Rachel had come to recognize as his tell for when he was wrestling with a difficult decision. "At least let me call it in quietly," he pressed. "Have them staged a mile back. If something goes wrong..."

"There's no time," Rachel said firmly, though she appreciated his concern. "Please, just trust me on this. Go hide at the far end of the bridge. Stay in the shadows, and keep your weapon ready."

Though his expression made it clear he wasn't fully convinced, Novak nodded. Rachel could see the familiar glint of excitement in his eyes—the thrill of the hunt that every good agent felt when they were close to their quarry. He moved swiftly but quietly along the bridge, choosing his steps carefully on the aging structure. The old wood and metal creaked beneath his feet despite his caution. He reached the far side where several iron railings had given way to rust and time, leaving a precarious gap where the left edge sagged ominously into the darkness below. The shadows quickly swallowed him, and for a moment, Rachel felt all alone.

Once Novak was in position, Rachel stepped closer to the edge. The vertigo hit her immediately – that peculiar pull that seems to come from both within and without, as if some malevolent force in the darkness below was reaching up to grab her. The weak moonlight did little to illuminate the seventy-foot drop, making it seem like an endless void. Rachel's heart quickened as she forced herself to look down, to really take in what others had seen in their final moments.

The thought triggered a vivid memory from her cancer treatment, one she'd tried hard to bury. She'd been sitting in her bathroom at three in the morning, violently ill from the latest round of chemotherapy, her body wracked with pain so intense it felt like her bones were trying to crack open from within. The metallic taste of blood had filled her mouth from where she'd bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming and waking Paige. In that moment, curled up on the cold tile floor, she'd understood with perfect clarity why some people chose to end their suffering. She remembered staring at the bottle of prescription painkillers on the counter, calculating how many itwould take to make the pain stop forever. The memory was so visceral she could almost smell the antiseptic tang of the hospital that had seemed to follow her everywhere in those days.

Rachel blinked hard, forcing herself back to the present. Her toe edged slightly further over the bridge, and she felt the cool night air swirling beneath her foot. The women who had come here had all stood exactly where she was standing now, seeing no other way forward. Each of them had looked down into this same darkness, feeling that same terrible pull.

Jack would be furious if he knew what she was doing. The thought of him sitting peacefully at home, unaware that his wife was standing on the edge of a bridge, made her stomach clench. And Paige…her beautiful, growing-too-fast daughter who had already lost so much. Rachel's mind drifted to tomorrow morning's routine: Paige shuffling down to breakfast, probably wearing those ridiculous fuzzy slippers she refused to give up, asking what was for breakfast while barely looking up from her phone. Would she even remember to eat if something happened to Rachel tonight?

The wind picked up, causing the old bridge to creak ominously. Metal groaned against metal, a sound like distant screaming. Rachel's heart hammered against her ribs as she forced herself to remain still, fighting every instinct that screamed at her to step back from the edge. Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an hour. The darkness seemed to press in around her, broken only by that distant light through the trees. The cold began to seep through her jacket, and her legs trembled slightly from maintaining her position. Just as doubt began to creep in, just as she started to think she'd been wrong about all of it, she heard it – the soft crunch of careful footsteps on the old pavement behind her.

Besides, even if the house in the distancewasthe killer’s house, how long would it take him to get out here? And howcould she know for certain she’d even seen their car arrive? But before any of these questions could fully take root, a voice interrupted her. It came out of the darkness like a gentle breeze.

"You don't need to do that, my dear."

The voice was almost musical in its softness. Rachel turned slowly, maintaining her position on the edge. The man standing several yards away was not what she'd expected. He was small, almost delicate in his build, with the kind of face you'd expect to see behind the counter at a small-town hardware store. His blue eyes seemed to radiate compassion, and when he smiled, fine wrinkles appeared at their corners. In the moonlight, his silver hair formed a sort of halo around his head.

"Why don't you take a step back?" he suggested, his tone careful and measured. "Just one small step. We can talk about whatever's troubling you. There's always another way."

Rachel let her shoulders shake slightly, as if holding back sobs. She'd interviewed enough grieving family members over the years to know how to make it look convincing. She even managed to force a slight catch in her breathing. The man took a tentative step forward, his hand extended toward her like someone approaching a frightened animal.

"There's so much more for you here," he said softly. His voice had the practiced cadence of someone used to speaking to crowds…a teacher, perhaps, or a preacher. "Just take my hand. Let me help you. You've been given this life for a reason."

Rachel nodded shakily, making a show of considering his words. She could feel the empty air behind her, that dizzying drop that had claimed other lives. The man's kind smile never wavered as she began to step away from the edge. His hand remained steady, reaching for her, those gentle blue eyes fixed on her face. She noticed they weren't really focused on her eyes though. They seemed to be watching her throat, where the carotid artery pulsed visibly.

The moment she was clear of the edge, everything changed. The transformation was shocking in its suddenness – like a mask being ripped away.

The compassionate smile vanished, replaced by something harder, more predatory. His movements became precise and mechanical as his other hand whipped up from his side. Rachel caught the glint of moonlight on metal just in time to see the needle arcing toward her neck.

She blocked the strike instinctively, years of training taking over, but she hadn't anticipated the force behind his thin frame. The impact of their arms meeting sent her stumbling backward. For one heart-stopping moment, she felt nothing but empty air behind her. The edge of the bridge, that seventy-foot drop, was waiting just inches away.

Rachel's training kicked in again and she shifted her weight forward, but the man was already moving. The needle flashed again, this time aiming for her shoulder. She twisted away, feeling the sharp point graze her jacket. His other hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. The gentle facade was completely gone now, replaced by something cold and calculating.

"You're just like the others," he hissed, trying to force her back toward the edge. "Lost souls who need my guidance. My salvation. Just give in…"

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