“I can’t be absolutely sure, but that sounds like the old Thousand Oak property.” It was a new voice, one she hadn’t heard before. “It’s not within the scope of our search right now, given the location and the type of property not matching up with what we’ve been seeing so far.”
“Thousand Oak?” Laura repeated, already using one hand to type it into her phone’s map search. “Is that the name of the farm?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s out by Interstate 285, down off the way a bit.”
Laura found it on her search, quickly inputting the information into her GPS. “Thank you. Unit seventeen, what’s your ETA at marker A152?”
“ETA two minutes,” came the voice which had first confirmed they were on the way.
Laura started the engine, waiting impatiently for them to show. As soon as they were here and able to surveil the place, she could go.
She dialed Nate’s number, knowing she was going to need back-up – but he was going to have to find his own way there. She couldn’t spare the time to go back in his direction.
Because she knew where the current victim was hanging – and they had another hour to get there. But that didn’t mean she wanted to waste a single minute. Not if that person was hanging there even now, trying to tear the skin off their own hands to get out of their ropes.
***
Laura wrestled the car into submission along the old dirt track, cursing every time she hit a rock or tree root in the path and jolted herself up and down. She’d switched the headlights down to the lowest possible setting, needing to see but also dreading the idea of being seen.
If the killer was still around here, there was every chance that he would try to stop her from interfering. That he would be watching and waiting to make sure his victim died as intended. And she was alone.
If he took her out, then Nate might arrive too late.
“Come on,” Laura muttered to herself, leaning low over the steering wheel as she strained to see. Up ahead, it loomed like a ghost out of the darkness: the white-painted barn, glowing in the lights from the car.
Laura killed the engine immediately, taking only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the new darkness. Even though the city wasn’t far away – just a couple of minutes back through twisting back roads to get within sight of the interstate – it was private and dark here. The trees formed a natural shelter, and the overgrown fields close around the farm were another barrier to the rest of civilization, so near and yet seemingly so far away.
The farmhouse itself was in bad repair, a very visible hole in the roof even from here. There were no cars parked outside, no sign of anyone else around. Laura waited only the shortest time she possibly could to be somewhat confident there was no one hiding in the shadows before grabbing her flashlight and cell phone from the seat beside her, slipping the phone into her pocket and holding her gun instead. She left the radio on her belt but turned it to silent. If someone was here, the last thing she wanted was for them to hear her coming.
Laura didn’t hesitate as she got out of the car, closing the door as quietly as she could and advancing the rest of the way on foot. The farmhouse was directly ahead of her, but the barn was off to one side, a short walk further on. The tree stood outside just as she had seen it, hanging silently, the tire waiting like it was a trap.
There was barely a sound outside, other than a few bird calls that seemed to retreat further away. No doubt fleeing the presence of a human in the area. She hoped their killer was not an ornithologist, someone who could read distress calls and know that the birds were issuing a warning. But it was all down to chance, now. If he was here; if he wasn’t. If he attacked her; if he didn’t.
All she could do was proceed with caution, and hope.
She couldn’t wait any longer – not when someone’s life was in danger.
A cloud lifted from over the moon, and in the stronger light the barn seemed to glow a ghostly white. Laura looked at her
wrist and was able to make out the time: it was just before eleven. She still had time. There was still an hour before the platform would drop.
If her visions had been accurate, she still had an hour to save a life.
She might have paused then, approached things more carefully, but the image of Veronica Rowse’s destroyed hand was there behind her eyelids when she blinked her eyes. There was no getting rid of it. She needed to get in there, and now. No waiting for Nate. No putting him into the line of fire again, either. He would be much safer if he simply joined them when it was all over.
Laura half-ran up the slight incline towards the barn, as fast as she dared while still being able to keep her gun steady in front of her. Her eyes darted from side to side all the time, looking for some hint of movement. Something that would tell her it wasn’t safe.
Her shoes crunched on dead leaves as she passed by the tree, a slow breeze stirring them around her but not strong enough to lift them into the air. They only rustled, so many sepulchral fingers at her feet. She felt a familiar tension running up her neck, adrenaline flaring through all of her nerves as she darted towards the front of the barn.
The huge doors that blocked the entrance were closed, but there was no padlock or chain on them. Laura didn’t need to look for another way in, but this one was dangerous. She gulped in breath of freezing cold air. There was no time. She had to do this now. She had to get in there, before it was too late.
She touched the door handle, grabbed it hard, and yanked it back, completing the motion by pulling her hand back to the gun as quickly as she could.
She stood there for a long moment, unable to make out anything in the gloom of the inside of the barn. The moonlight didn’t penetrate this far, and she stood with her legs planted apart and her gun up, ready to fire. Ready to fire at anything that tried to walk out of there, or move in the corners of her vision, or lift a glinting weapon of its own…
There was nothing. No movement on the floor. She lifted her eyes. Was there movement up there? She couldn’t make out enough to see. The cloud had drifted over the moon again, leaving her almost blind. There was no sound, nothing that told her of anyone moving towards her…
And then she heard it. A creaking noise. A dry, rhythmic creaking coming from somewhere up towards the top of the barn, where the hayloft ought to be.