One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (top rated ebook readers TXT) 📕

could hear it clearly—it was unmistakably a woman’s scream, and it sent a shiver up Tara’s spine.

“Do you hear that?” she asked as she quickly let out her seatbelt.

Warren didn’t even reply. He pushed his car door open and they both jumped out, Warren reaching around his waist for his gun before holding it out in front of him.

“Mills, I want you to go around and guard the back,” he whispered over the hood of the car.

She nodded, watching him as he hurriedly raced toward the front door. Tara held out her gun, steadying it in her hand as it shook anxiously—her heart pounding against her chest. Each time the woman screamed, it sent a jolt through Tara’s body.

It was a sudden panic taking over, she knew, for she had been prone to the feeling many times before. But this time was different. She couldn’t allow it to happen.

She forced her body forward, as she tried with all her might to steady her breathing. In and out, she told herself as she took long controlled inhales. But each time she heard a scream, her heart would pick up speed, until the panic seized her lungs as well, causing her to take short quick breaths until she could barely breathe.

She didn’t even realize how far she had moved—now standing on the side of the cabin—before her vision darkened. She placed her hand against the siding to steady herself.

“Mills! I told you to guard the back!” Warren screamed.

Tara felt a jolt through her body once again, but this time it freed her with a sudden rush of adrenaline as Warren whizzed past her. The screaming had stopped and Tara quickly pulled herself together as she realized what had unfolded.

She ran as fast as she could to the back of the cabin, and when she approached, she could see that a window was open and a short, stocky man was running deep into the woods with Warren on his tail.

He had a good lead, a few feet in front of Warren, but Tara had to do something; she had caused this. She ran after them, weaving in and out of trees, her eyes focused on the two of them. Warren was faster and fitter—the fleeing man was growing winded—and Tara watched Warren close in, grabbing hold of his shirt.

Relief flooded Tara’s body, but only for a second, because as Warren fastened his grip, his foot hit a rock, sending him tumbling forward. He pulled the man’s shirt along with him until it fell free from his grip, and the man stumbled back, losing his footing as well. His hands touched the ground for a moment until he steadied himself on his feet. He was about to pick up running again, but Tara had already caught up. She tackled him, sending his body flat onto the ground, and then cuffed him.

Warren stood up, covered in mud and leaves.

“What the hell happened to you?!” he screamed.

Tara looked up at him, unsure of how to respond. She knew there was no way to hide the huge mistake she just made.

“Get him in the car and call an ambulance,” he added, his words clouded with anger. He turned, running back through the woods to go check on the woman.

Tara tried to pull herself together as she got to her feet and forced the man to walk in front of her. He stood up, defeated, his deep sunken eyes focused in front of him as Tara forced him to the car. Moments later, the man was in the back of the vehicle and Tara had called for an ambulance.

Warren stood on the porch, speaking with the woman who was screaming moments earlier. He didn’t even look up as Tara approached. His gaze fixated on the woman, whose auburn bangs were matted to her forehead with blood.

Tara walked over and stood silently. She didn’t dare intervene.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Warren asked.

“It’s just my face,” she said between sobs. “We were just fighting and…” Her crying intensified as she reached toward her forehead, trying to feel the extent to her injury. “He hit me and I hit the coffee table,” she added.

“We have an ambulance on their way. They’ll take a look at that for you.”

The woman nodded.

“How do you know him?” Warren then questioned.

The woman’s eyes moved from Warren to the car, where the man was peering through the window.

“Don’t worry about him,” Warren added. “He can’t hurt you now.”

The woman sighed. “We’ve been dating for a few months,” she replied as she looked from Warren to Tara. “I know he’s married,” she admitted. “He said they were done, that he was leaving her.” She started to weep again at her words. She had answered a question that Warren hadn’t even asked, but it weighed too heavily on her conscience.

 “Has he been violent with you before?”

She looked toward the man in the corner of her eye and lowered her voice.

“He’d grabbed me a few times, but he only hit me once before this. He promised he wouldn’t do it again.” She touched her injured forehead once more.

Sirens echoed off the trees as the ambulance approached, but Warren had one more question. He had been holding the victims’ pictures in his hand, and he held them out to her.

“Have you ever seen any of these people before?” he asked.

She took them in her hand and peered at each one. “No, I haven’t,” she said with certainty.

 The ambulance then pulled into the driveway and an EMT stepped out and approached the porch. Warren thanked the woman and then briefly filled in the EMT, who began attending to the woman’s wound.

Warren walked off to the side of the porch. Tara followed, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say to her.

He looked at her for a moment with sheer disappointment in his eyes, a silence lurking awkwardly between them. He was giving her a chance to speak first, but at the realization, Tara’s palms began to sweat—her face reddening—because