Chapter Twenty Five
Disappearing
Rachel Williams
The cave feels colder now. Colder than Beth’s body lying still on the stone.
I can’t stop shaking.
David’s arm is around me, holding me upright because my legs don’t want to work. I don’t care how it looks. I don’t care what Bishop thinks. I need something solid, something human, something that isn’t the horror in front of me.
Beth. God. Beth.
I hear Bishop’s phone ring behind us, and he steps away to answer it. His voice echoes off the cave walls, low and tense, but I can hear enough.
“Shaw’s gone… disappeared from the hospital… sometime after midnight…”
My stomach twists.
David stiffens beside me. “That son of a…he did this. He killed her. He killed all of them.”
I flinch at the word killed, my eyes locked on Beth’s face. I can’t look away. I can’t breathe. I can’t think past the roaring in my ears.
Bishop ends the call and turns toward us. His expression is tight, controlled, but there’s something else under it; something he won’t say out loud.
“We need to get out of the caves,” he says. “We need to radio the coroner and secure the scene.”
David rounds on him. “Why? Shaw’s the killer. He escaped because he knew we were close.”
I feel David’s arm tighten around me, protective, grounding. I lean into him because I need to. Because I can’t stand on my own right now. Because Bishop… Bishop feels too far away. Too complicated. Too painful.
Bishop shakes his head. “Shaw isn’t a mastermind.”
David scoffs. “He attacked us. He’s been living in the woods. He’s dangerous.”
“He’s dangerous,” Bishop agrees quietly, “but he’s not organized. He’s not patient. He’s not capable of staging bodies across multiple counties for years. He didn’t lead us here.”
I swallow hard, my throat burning.
Bishop’s voice is steady, but I can hear the strain underneath. I can feel it. And I hate that I can feel it. I hate that part of me still reacts to him even now.
But I don’t move toward him. I don’t reach for him.
Because Bishop hurt me. Because he made choices without me. Because he sent a message to a killer and didn’t tell me. Because I don’t know how to trust him right now.
“We need to move,” Bishop says. “The killer could still be nearby.”
I nod, but I don’t look at him. “Let’s go.”
David squeezes my shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
And I let him.
I let him guide me away from Beth’s body, away from the horror, away from the cave that feels like it’s swallowing us whole. Bishop walks ahead, flashlight raised, weapon drawn, every muscle tight.
He’s protecting us. Protecting me. Even now.
But I can’t go to him. Not yet. Maybe never.
We move toward the cave entrance, the darkness pressing in around us, the cold biting at my skin, Beth’s broken necklace heavy in my pocket.
Shaw is missing. Beth is dead. And the real killer is still out there.
David leaves the cave first, climbing back up the narrow passage to radio the coroner. His flashlight beam disappears around the bend, and the moment he’s gone, the silence drops heavy between me and Bishop.
It’s just us.
I stand there, arms wrapped around myself, trying to keep my breathing steady. Bishop turns toward me slowly, like he’s afraid any sudden movement will make me bolt.
“Rachel…” he starts.
I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”
He stops. His jaw tightens. His eyes, God, those eyes, look wrecked. But I can’t let that pull me in. Not now. Not after everything.
“You knew,” I say, my voice low, shaking. “You knew someone was watching us. You knew the killer was close. And you chose to let him watch me. Did it give you a thrill? Did you like showing me off like that?” I demand.
He flinches. Actually flinches.
“I was trying to-”
“No.” I step closer, anger rising like heat under my skin. “You don’t get to explain it away. You don’t get to pretend it was strategy. You didn’t tell me. You didn’t warn me. You didn’t trust me.”
His breath catches, barely audible. “I do trust you.”
“Then why did you make a choice that put us both in danger without saying a word?”
He looks down, hands flexing at his sides. “Because I thought I could control it.”
I laugh, humorless. “Control it? Bishop, he led us here. He killed Beth. He’s been ahead of us the entire time.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
“Beth is dead.” My voice cracks. “She’s dead, and you still think you can outmaneuver him alone?”
He closes his eyes for a moment, like the words hit somewhere deep. When he opens them again, they’re raw. “I didn’t want you in the middle of it.”
“I’m already in the middle of it,” I snap. “You dragged me into it the second you decided to play games with a killer.”
He steps toward me, slow, careful. “Rachel… I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, backing up until my shoulder hits the cave wall. “Sorry doesn’t bring Beth back. Sorry doesn’t fix what you did. Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that I had to go to David for comfort because I couldn’t even look at you.”
That one lands. Hard.
His expression fractures; jealousy, guilt, pain all twisting together. “I know,” he says, voice rough. “I saw.”
“Good,” I whisper. “Maybe you’ll understand how it feels to be shut out.”
He swallows hard, throat working. “I never meant to shut you out.”
“But you did.”
He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t defend himself. He just stands there, breathing like it hurts.
I push off the wall, brushing past him toward the cave exit. “We need to get back to David. We need to get Beth out. We need to figure out what the hell Shaw’s disappearance means.”
“Rachel-”
I stop at the mouth of the tunnel but don’t turn around. “You don’t get to throw me to the wolf and keep me at the same time, Bishop. Decide what you want.”
The silence behind me is thick, heavy, full of everything he isn’t saying.
I walk out into the cold night air before he can answer.
David’s flashlight beam swings back toward us as he reappears at the cave mouth, breath visible in the cold night air. He looks shaken, hollow, Like finding Beth broke something in him he can’t put back together.
“They’re tied up,” he says, voice rough. “Coroner’s dealing with another scene across the county line. They can’t get a team out here until later.”
Later.
Beth is lying in that cave. Alone. And later feels unforgivable.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold in the tremor that runs through me. Bishop steps forward, jaw tight, already shifting into that mode where he takes control of everything around him.
“We’ll bring her in ourselves,” he says. “We’ll get the gear from the compound.”
David nods, but his eyes flick toward the cave entrance, toward Beth, toward the darkness that swallowed her. “We shouldn’t leave her here.”
“We won’t,” Bishop says. “We’ll be fast.”
He looks at me then, just a glance, quick and careful, but it still hits like a spark. I look away before it can catch.
We start back toward the trail, the three of us moving through the trees in a tight line. David walks ahead, shoulders tense, flashlight cutting through the dark. I stay close behind him, because he feels safe right now, solid, steady, uncomplicated.
Bishop stays just behind me.
Close enough that I can feel him. Close enough that I know he’s watching me. Close enough that the air between us feels charged and heavy.
But I don’t move toward him. Not after everything. Not after the message he sent. Not after the way he shut me out.
The compound lights come into view through the trees, dim, scattered, but enough to break the suffocating darkness. David picks up his pace.
“We’ll grab the stretcher,” he says. “Blankets. Straps. Whatever we need.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “We’ll bring her home.”
Bishop’s voice is quiet behind me. “Yeah. We will.”
I don’t turn around. I don’t trust myself to.
Because part of me wants to lean back into him. And part of me wants to scream. And part of me is still breaking from the sight of Beth’s body on that cold cave floor.