Chapter Twenty Six
Impossible Suspects
Jameson Bishop
David moves ahead of us through the compound, heading straight for the gear room. Rachel follows him, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. I watch them disappear around the corner, and something cold settles in my gut.
Not jealousy this time.
Suspicion.
Standing in the doorway, listening to the clatter of metal as David pulls equipment off shelves. Rachel’s voice is soft, steadying him. He’s shaken, anyone would be, but there’s something off. Something that doesn’t fit.
He was the only ranger who stayed behind. The only one who didn’t evacuate. The only one with full access to the compound, the logs, the trails, the ME reports. The only one who knew the terrain well enough to lead us straight into that cave.
He found Beth’s trail too easily.
Replaying the moment in the cave; Rachel collapsing into him, his arms around her, his grief so raw it felt almost theatrical. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was real. But grief doesn’t erase facts.
He had opportunity. He had authority. He had proximity.
He wasn’t present when the ranger spotted the ‘werewolf’, he didn’t show up until later.
And Shaw’s disappearance? Too convenient. Too perfectly timed.
Shaw is dangerous, yes. But he’s not subtle. He’s not patient. He’s not capable of staging bodies across counties for years. He’s not the one who left clues like breadcrumbs. He’s not the one who led us into a cave like it was a trap.
But David… David could be.
I move into the gear room slowly, watching him from the doorway. He’s loading the stretcher, hands shaking, breath uneven. Rachel stands beside him, her hand brushing his arm in comfort.
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t acknowledge me.
He doesn’t ask what the hospital said about Shaw.
He just keeps packing.
Rachel turns, meeting my eyes for a moment. Her expression is guarded, still hurt, still distant. But she sees something in my face that makes her straighten.
“Bishop?” she asks quietly.
I shake my head once. “Later.”
Because I can’t say it yet. Not without proof. Not without certainty.
But the suspicion is there now, coiled tight in my chest.
David was the only ranger who stayed. The only one who knew every inch of these woods. The only one who could manipulate reports, access systems, move freely without question.
The only one who could have led Beth into that cave.
He turns around, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Stretcher’s ready. Let’s go get her.”
Rachel nods, stepping toward him.
I step in front of her.
“Rachel walks between us,” I say.
David’s smile falters.
Rachel looks up at me, confused. “Bishop?”
“Between us,” I repeat, voice low.
David’s jaw tightens. “What’s your problem?”
I meet his eyes, letting the suspicion show just enough to make him blink.
“Later,” I say again.
Because right now, we have to go back into the dark. Back to Beth. Back to the cave.
And if my instincts are right…
We’re walking beside the killer
David shoulders the stretcher and heads toward the trail like he’s desperate to get moving. Rachel walks beside him, close enough that their arms brush. I follow a few paces behind, watching them, watching him, watching everything.
And the longer I watch, the more the suspicion grows.
Not obvious. Just… steady. Cold. Creeping.
David was the only one who knew the terrain well enough to lead us straight to Beth. The only one who could manipulate logs, reports, timelines.
And now he’s the one carrying the stretcher like he’s eager to get back to the cave.
I need to know if he’s hiding something. I need to know if he’s dangerous. I need to know if he’s the one who’s been watching us.
So I test him.
“David,” I say, keeping my voice neutral, “you found Beth’s trail fast. How’d you know where to look?”
He doesn’t slow. “She’s a ranger. She’d take the marked path.”
“But she didn’t,” I say. “She went off-trail.”
He hesitates; just a fraction of a second. But I see it.
“She panicked,” he says quickly. “Anyone would.”
Rachel doesn’t notice the slip. I do.
“You’ve been in that cave before?” I ask.
David stiffens. “No.”
“You led us straight to it.”
“I followed the prints.”
I step closer, letting my tone sharpen. “Even in the dark?”
He turns, eyes flashing. “What are you implying?”
Rachel looks between us, confused, tense. “Bishop-”
“Just asking questions,” I say.
But David’s reaction is too strong. Too defensive. Too fast.
“Shaw escaped,” I say. “Perfect timing.”
David scoffs. “He’s the killer. Of course he ran.”
“Or someone let him out.”
David stops walking. “Why would anyone do that?”
“To create a distraction,” I say. “To make us chase the wrong man.”
His jaw tightens. “Shaw did this.”
“He’s not organized,” I counter. “He’s not patient. He’s not careful. He’s not the one who staged bodies across counties.”
David’s eyes flick to Rachel, quick, nervous, like he’s checking her reaction.
That’s the tell. That’s the crack. That’s the moment I know something is wrong.
Rachel steps closer to him, instinctively protective. “David’s not-”
I cut her off gently. “We’re just talking.”
But inside, everything is shifting.
David is hiding something. I can feel it. I can see it. And the killer has been ahead of us every step of the way.
Someone with access. Someone with authority. Someone who knows these woods better than anyone.
Someone like David.
We reach the edge of the forest, the cave entrance still far ahead but visible through the trees. David adjusts the stretcher, breathing hard.
Rachel moves to help him.
I step between them.
“Rachel walks with me,” I say.
David’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
I meet his gaze, letting the suspicion show, enough to make him blink.
“Because I said so.”
Rachel looks up at me, startled, confused, hurt, but she moves to my side anyway.
David turns away, muttering under his breath.
And I watch him.
Every step. Every breath. Every twitch.
Because if my instincts are right…
We’re walking back toward Beth’s body with the man who put her there.
The second I step into the cavern; I know something’s wrong.
The moment my flashlight sweeps across the cavern floor, my stomach drops.
Beth’s body is gone.
Not moved. Not dragged. Not disturbed.
Gone.
Rachel’s breath catches behind me. David’s flashlight trembles in his hand.
“No,” David whispers. “No, she-she was right here. She was right here.”
Rachel steps forward, voice breaking. “Bishop… where is she?”
I move slowly, scanning the stone, the walls, the shadows. Every instinct I have is screaming now; loud, sharp, relentless.
There’s no blood. No scuff marks. No sign of a struggle. No sign of a body being carried out.
Someone took her. Someone who knew we’d be back and who knew the coroner was delayed. Someone who had time.
But not David.
He was with us the entire time. He couldn’t have moved her. He couldn’t have staged this.
Which means the killer was here. Recently. Close enough to hear us coming.
“Rachel,” I say quietly, “don’t move.”
She freezes. David doesn’t.
He spins toward me, eyes wide. “Shaw came back. He must’ve-”
“No,” I say. “Shaw didn’t do this.”
David’s face twists. “He escaped. He’s dangerous. He-”
“He’s feral,” I cut in. “He’s unpredictable. But he’s not careful. He’s not clean. He’s not capable of removing a body without leaving a trace.”
Rachel looks at me, eyes wide, terrified. “Then who?”
I swallow hard.
Because the answer is worse than David. Worse than Shaw. Worse than anything we’ve faced so far.
“Someone who’s been watching us,” I say. “Someone who knew exactly when we’d leave. Someone who knew exactly when we’d come back.”
David’s breathing quickens. “You’re saying he was here. In the cave. While we were gone.”
“Yes.”
Rachel’s hand flies to her mouth.
The cave feels smaller now. Darker. Like the killer is still here. Like he’s listening.
I step closer to Rachel, instinctively putting myself between her and the shadows.
“Rachel,” I say softly, “come to me.”
She moves without thinking, fear overriding everything else, and I feel her shoulder brush mine. David stays where he is, staring at the empty floor like it’s a nightmare he can’t wake up from.
I scan the cavern again, every muscle tight.
Beth’s body didn’t walk out. It didn’t vanish. It didn’t disappear.
It was taken.
By someone who knew our movements.
By someone who’s been ahead of us every step of the way.
Not David. Not Shaw.
Someone else.
Someone smarter. Someone patient. Someone organized.
Someone who is still out there.