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

what it was. A scream. It was faint at first, but then grew louder. It was her mother’s voice and Tara frantically looked in all directions, trying to determine where it was coming from. But she couldn’t see too well in the darkness and the sound echoed off of the trees.

She then realized where she was as she looked down and saw that her feet stood on a trail laid out in front of her. She walked down it and the screams grew louder.

She picked up speed, running faster and faster. She was so close, she could feel it, and then suddenly the screaming stopped. She slowed down and stood quietly as she looked around her.

“Where are you?” she screamed, but the forest returned no sound and she stood motionless on the path.

And all of a sudden, the forest did not feel safe. The trees’ tall trunks felt like barriers and she wished she could tear them all down just to have a clear view of what was behind them.

But then she heard it again—the shrilling screams as they vibrated through her body. It was just off the trail, she was so close, and as she pushed back the brush between her and the sound, a clearing opened up. But she wasn’t in the woods anymore, she was in the hallway of her childhood home, staring into the living room, yet again. Her mother’s lifeless body on the ground. Her father standing over her. But this time he didn’t even notice Tara at all.

His eyes were fixated on the corner of the room. He was whispering something.

“Stay there,” he whispered as he held his finger to his lips, and then his head turned to Tara.

Tara jumped upright in bed, her body soaked in sweat. It was just a nightmare, she told herself as she realized that she was in her hotel room. She steadied her breathing. She had had many nightmares before, replaying the event in her childhood, but that one was different. Her father had never spoken to the corner of the room, he had never raised his finger to his lips, yet it gave Tara a strange feeling of déjà vu.

Tara shook off the thought. That would mean—no. That isn’t true, she told herself, and she continued to tell herself that over and over again as she coaxed herself back to sleep.

Chapter Twenty Two

Tara opened her eyes to her phone almost vibrating off the nightstand. She reached for it and turned off her alarm. It was seven AM—less than four hours of sleep last night and she could feel it.

She sat upright knowing that she couldn’t trust herself lying down for a second longer. The morning sun filtered through the closed curtains and Tara squinted her heavy eyes as she surveyed the room around her. Her laptop still sat open on the bed. It reminded her that she fell asleep while searching last night, and then she remembered the nightmare.

It was probably the most vivid—and strangest—nightmare she had yet, and she had no idea what it could mean. It couldn’t have been a memory. She would’ve remembered something like that, so she tucked the nightmare away in her mind as a warped distortion of her subconscious.

Tara’s phone rang and she reached for it and read the caller ID—Warren. She picked up.

“Good morning,” he echoed with little enthusiasm. Tara could already hear it in his voice that he, too, had a sleepless night. “So, I’m thinking we should grab some breakfast now and decide what our next steps should be. Can you meet me in fifteen?”

Tara agreed and they hung up, her mind now pulled back onto the case. She knew their next steps would be crucial, and the case needed all her attention right now.

***

Fifteen minutes later Tara walked into the cafeteria. She scanned the room. Round tables were placed throughout, with booths lining the walls. The room was almost empty except for three tables and she spotted Warren almost immediately. He sat at a table in the far back corner, his eyes fixated on the cup of coffee in front of him as if studying something within it.

Tara walked over and just when she was close enough for him to notice her presence, he lifted his head up, breaking out of his coffee mug trance.

“Good morning,” she said as she took a seat across the table from him. “Have you heard anything new?”

He shook his head. “How did you sleep?” he asked.

His voice sounded raspy and after he spoke, he looked up at her, revealing his swollen, bloodshot eyes and that he didn’t sleep well either.

“Not good,” she admitted. “I’m assuming you didn’t sleep well either?”

Again, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Mills. I don’t know where to even go from here.”

He picked up a straw on the table and stirred his coffee, something he’d probably done numerous times already. Tara couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. This wasn’t the intimidating veteran agent she knew. He looked broken. The case was clearly affecting his confidence and it showed in every movement he made.

She could feel his lack of confidence begin to seep into her, as if he were diseased, spreading it in everything he touched, in everything he said. She felt it inching across the table.

“Coffee, miss?”

She looked up to see the waiter standing over her. It took both of them by surprise and they each snapped back to the present moment.

Tara nodded and the waiter bent down, pouring coffee into her mug.

Warren sat upright, realizing for the first time that his coffee had grown cold.

“Can I actually get another cup?” he asked as he pushed his current full mug to the waiter.

The waiter looked down at it, concerned that he was unhappy with it for whatever reason. “It’s cold,” Warren added before he apologized and the waiter nodded, picked up the mug, and walked away, going to retrieve another.

Now, with nothing to bury his face in, Warren looked at