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They got out of the car and walked up onto the wrap-around porch. Rachel was fairly dumb when it came to identifying house styles, but she was pretty sure this one was a riff ona traditional farmhouse. There was a traditional screen door, revealing an open front door and a large, open hallway beyond. Jack knocked on the door and was immediately met with the resounding barks of a small dog.
A dachshund came rushing to the door, little claws clicking against the hardwood floor. A middle-aged woman, maybe pushing forty, came chasing after it as she looked through the screen door at the visitors on her porch. She smiled apologetically at them as she scooped the dog up.
“I’m so very sorry,” the woman said, cradling the dog. Without bothering to open the door (maybe on purpose, Rachel assumed), the woman asked: “And who are you?”
“Agents Rivers and Gift, FBI,” Jack said, once again flashing his badge and ID.
“FBI?” The woman looked just as confused as Scarlett Givens.
“Yes, ma’am,” Rachel said. “Would you mind if we came in?”
“That’s… that’s fine,” she said, freeing one hand from her dog and pushing the screen door open from the inside. “What’s this about, exactly?”
“Are you Caroline Adams?” Jack asked.
“No. Caroline is my mother. Why? Why do you need my mother?”
“Is she here?” Rachel asked.
The woman set the dog down and eyed them both skeptically.“Why are you interested in my mother?” she asked again, this time putting bass in her voice. Rachel was also quite sure she saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
“We need to speak with her about a series of murders that have occurred in the past week,” Jack said.
As the woman, allegedly Caroline’s daughter, let this sink in, the dachshund began to sniff at Rachel’s feet. And oddly enough, the woman’s first response was a slow and boisterous laugh.
“Ma’am?” Rachel asked.
“Murders? My mother?”
“Yes,” Jack said rather sternly. “Three doctors have been murdered, and they are all connected to Caroline Adams. And because of that, I’d greatly appreciate it if you could stop laughing and take this seriously.
The woman nodded, and as she did, a few tears did indeed track down the side of her face. The three of them stood awkwardly in the entry hallway as the woman got control of herself. “I am very sorry,” she said, wiping the tears away as the laughter tapered off. “But… if you knew what I’ve been through over the course of the past three days, you’d understand how ridiculous your statement is.”
Rachel was starting to feel a bit uneasy. She found herself looking down the hallway, trying to get a better feel for the layout of the house. She didn’t like the fact that they still had no idea if Caroline Adam was here or not.
“I moved in here about six months ago when things got really bad with mom’s health. She has breast cancer. We thought she had it bear two years ago, but it came back within a few months. And when it came back, it came backhard.”
“So… is she here?” Rachel asked. “Are you taking care of her?”
“I was. Until two days ago. It just… it got too hard on meandmom. She has some friends around here that pitched in, too, but ultimately… we both knew it was time for her to go somewhere else…somewhere she could get the proper attention and care that she needs as she’s on… well, as she’s on her way out. The last check-up she had was just four days before we moved her into assisted living. Her specialist said she may have another month. Anything beyond that, he’d be shocked.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Rachel said.
“I know she wanted to pass away here at home, but even she thought it was time. She had some coherent spells here and there, so that’s good. I just… yeah. She’s been bed-ridden for the last month or so. I had to help her go to the bathroom most of the time. So… yeah… the idea of her walking around and murdering people is both funny and sort of sad.”
Rachel felt the sudden need to get outside. She was starting to feel slightly claustrophobic. She didn’t think it had anything to do with the tumor; it wasn’t a symptom she’d experienced before, and she’d not read anything to indicate it as such, either. If anything, she thought it might just be the strain of what she was trying to do—attempting to help Jack, hoping that the experience of her own condition might somehow help them find the killer.
“Excuse me for just a second, please,” she said to both Jack and Caroline’s daughter.
When she turned and headed for the door, she caught a glimpse of Jack’s expression. He was instantly worried about her, made clear by the uncomfortable look on his face. She gave him a quick nod and a smile, then she walked back outside onto the porch. Walking down the stairs, she took a deep breath of the crisp air. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the open space around her. If she was being completely honest with herself, she was simply tired. Her body was getting slightly weaker with every week that passed, and it hadn't helped that she'd done nothing more than sit around the house for the last several weeks.
Two months ago, she would have kept this from Jack. She wouldn't want him worrying about her over something as simple as exhaustion. But things are different now, and she knew she had to respect him as well as take care of herself.
She was still standing out in the yard, halfway between the porch steps and their car, when Jack came back out. He met her in the yard and looked at her with the sort of care and caution she was beginning to grow accustomed to.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. I think it’s just weariness. I’m getting tired.”
