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

then,” Warren suggested as he turned to her fully. “Or maybe he’s trying to throw us off. It’s more common that a serial killer has a specific target,” he added. “It could be that he’s targeting these women for sexual needs, gets rejected, and then hunts them down.”

It was certainly a valid thought, but Tara still wasn’t too sure. To her, it seemed more probable that the killer had some reason for targeting the Appalachian Trail in the first place, and had pent-up anger toward hikers, for whatever reason.

Either way, they both knew they could spend all day stopping in stores, but so far, they had nothing, and they couldn’t afford to waste any more precious time.

“Let’s interview the woman who found the body,” Warren suggested. “See if she heard anything, or came upon anyone.”

Tara agreed. The cops already interviewed her, but they now knew from interviewing the camping store owner, they weren’t always thorough.

They made their way to the car and Tara could feel a dribble of sweat down the back of her neck. It was an unusually hot day, but she wondered if it really was just the heat, or if this case was finally beginning to take a toll on them.

Chapter Fourteen

Tara and Warren weren’t in the car long before the home they were at days earlier appeared amongst a row of houses. As they pulled into the driveway, the sound of laughter caused Tara’s head to turn.

Two young children were kicking a ball around in the yard, where days earlier an active crime scene was held, and it gave Tara a sudden eerie feeling. As the children noticed the car, they stopped, and their eyes moved briefly to the porch, where their mother sat. Reassured by her presence, they began to play again as the mother made her way down the steps. Tara and Warren both stepped out into the driveway.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

She stood a few yards from them as if careful not to get too close. There was a hesitation in her voice and step that Tara assumed was most likely from the trauma of the days prior.

“We’re with the FBI,” Tara confirmed as she held out her badge.

At the mention of FBI, the woman flinched as if it were a word she didn’t want spoken, and she glanced over toward her children. They had now stopped playing, instead listening to the conversation, and the woman spoke again.

“Can we talk on the porch?”

Tara agreed and followed her onto the wraparound porch. Once out of earshot, she spoke again.

“Look, I already told the cops everything,” she said as she glanced back out to the yard at her kids. She lowered her voice. “I really don’t want to have to relive what I saw.”

Tara knew she had to approach this delicately. “I can certainly understand,” she said. “We won’t keep you long.”

The woman nodded hesitantly. She knew she couldn’t avoid their questions, and she braced herself for them.

“The trail runs right by your house, correct?” It was a question Tara already knew the answer to, but it was a good way to ease her in.

The woman took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, it runs very close.”

She pointed toward the edge of her property, where days earlier Tara and Warren followed the sheriff into the woods—where there were probably still remnants of blood upon the forest floor. She knew this woman would probably never look at these woods the same.

Tara’s eyes followed the row of trees. The house was the last one on a dead-end street, the trees wrapping around the side of the house and curling around the back. She wondered if neighboring houses sat just as close to the forest.

“Does the forest line your neighbors’ backyards as well?” Tara asked.

“Mhm…the trail only runs by my property though.”

Again, she traced the trees along the side of her house with her finger, but then she stopped a moment when she heard one of her kids yell out in frustration. Her eyes darted across the front lawn to where her children were now arguing. She tried to ignore it, but it was soon clear it was only escalating and she asked Tara and Warren to give her a moment as she walked off the porch.

When she was out of earshot, Tara spoke to Warren.

“Anyone from these houses would have easy enough access to the trail,” she said, and Warren nodded.

They both knew all it would take for a neighbor to access the trail would be to trudge through a few yards of the forest that they could enter right through their backyard.

The woman walked back over to them. “Sorry about that,” she sighed.

But Tara didn’t skip a beat. “Do you get along with your neighbors?”

The woman looked down toward the other houses, pondering the thought.

“Yeah, we get along with mostly everyone,” she said, her eyes continuing to scan the other homes.

The word almost stuck in Tara’s mind like a splinter. She knew she was on the verge of something.

“Is there anyone you don’t get along with?” she questioned.

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just some grump down the street.” She shrugged.

“Why’s that?” Tara asked.

She rolled her eyes again. “He’s just always walking through my yard to get to the trail.” She shook her head at the thought. “I don’t really like people doing that, but he seems to think he has some right to access it this way.”

Tara knew something of importance was just a few words away.

“Did it ever result in an argument?” she asked.

“Mhm.” The woman nodded. “He wouldn’t get off my property—he said people like me didn’t deserve to live here. He even went as far as to threaten my life—said I didn’t deserve to live, which I felt was a huge overreaction.” She shook her head at the thought. “It was this whole big thing a couple months ago. The cops came and everything.”

“Has he been through your property since?”

She shook her head with relief. “He’s