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And now, with yet another lead having fallen apart, finding that killer seemed to be more difficult than ever. Especially as the day wound closer to its end, and she had to face the fact that she was starting to get very tired. She didn't think her immediate future would have a police station and high-stakes interrogations, but rather her hotel room and a nice, comfy bed. It made her feel weak and even guilty, but she knew she had to put her health first. It was something she'd never been particularly good at doing, but she knew it was the responsible thing to do.
Not only for her own safety and promises made to her family, but maybe even to any further potential victims of this killer. because if she wasn’t fully rested and thinking clearly, the killer would have an even larger advantage.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rachel once again found herself impressed with Detective Sullivan. To his credit, he was more than understanding when she suggested she should go back to her hotel. He didn’t quite handle her with kids’ gloves, and he also didn't freak out when she told him just how tired she was. He simply asked if she was okay and then delivered her to her car.
“I’ve got all of the files back at my hotel room,” she said as she stepped out of his car back at the parking lot in front of Jane Adler’s labs.. “I’ll dig through everything I have and see if I can find anything else.”
“I appreciate it,” Sullivan said, “but you really don’t have to.”
Was that a sort of strangled resentment in his voice? Rachel thought she heard something like that in his tone but couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was relieved that she was calling it a day a bit early. Maybe he was starting to realize that this hotshot agent with a bit of celebrity behind her was on the verge of swiping up what had been his case from the start.
“Well, it’s that or watch sitcoms and HGTV back at the room.”
“Yeah, that does sound sort of awful.” He seemed to think about something for a moment and then added: “When I get back to the station, I’ll send you over the information you need to get onto the local database remotely.”
“Thanks,” she said. Maybe she’d misread his earlier tone after all.
She got into her car and pulled up the address of the hotel; she hadn’t been in the city nearly enough to know her way around. It was just shy of four as she started back to the hotel and the sky had grown overcast, threatening to spit more rain down. But she didn’t see a single drop during the brief drive back to the hotel. As she parked and made her way into the building and then up to her room, her thoughts kept drifting back to the tone she thought she’d heard in Sullivan’s voice. If there was a bit of him that was starting to resent her, she could certainly understand. It did seem that her request to help with the case had gone a bit smoothly, with no pushback from Anderson or the Seattle heads at all. Surely a local detective had to take that as a bit of an insult, even if the case did seem to be targeting medical professionals of high esteem.
She considered this as she entered her room and approached the small stacks of files and printouts that were waiting for her. Maybe it was a little presumptuous of her to think she could just come in on someone else’s case and lend a hand. She also knew that she had never been a very good follower. She wondered if she’d taken too much control of the case. She’d only taken the lead whenever Sullivan had offered it, but still…sometimes she was unaware when she was taking control.
She sighed deeply as she looked at her little workspace, the window in front of it looking out into the cloudy afternoon streets. She forced herself to step away from it all—even if for only a moment—and called for takeout dinner. As she waited, she took a shower and did her best to wash away the doubts and lingering suspicions that she was becoming a hindrance. It didn’t necessarily work, but she was able to clear her mind a bit. All she had to do was come out and ask Sullivan if she was cramping his style. And if she was, then she’d step back. Of course, that was easier said than done now that she was so mired in the case and she’d seen the dead women. Would she really be able to step away from such a mystery if asked to do so?
Yes, she thought. Out of respect for Detective Sullivan and the case itself, yes, I can step away if he wants me to. It hurt to admit it to herself, but there it was.
She timed the shower perfectly, as the room phone was ringing to notify her that her dinner order had arrived: pizza this time. She went down to the lobby to pick it up and then headed back up to her room. She again found herself sitting in the center of her bed with the case file scattered out around her.
As she drove back into the information, there was a nostalgic part of her that was reminded of late-night study session back in college and even at the academy in Quantico. She supposed it was why she felt at ease and even almost juvenile by sifting through it all on the bed while eating pizza. Remarkably, it seemed to help her process the information in a different way; seeing it as nothing more than a study session seemed to bring the facts and descriptions in the files create new paths and puzzles.
Of course, as she looked at the crime scene photos and saw the dead eyes of Jane Adler and Emma Willis staring back at her, it took some of the ease out of it. She had no doubt that Sullivan would eventually find his way to the killer, but now that she was involved, she felt close to those brilliant women—that she owed it to them to see it through.
So she pored over the files and case reports as all of this hovered over her mind. She even looked back through the initial interviews conducted with family members—people she and Sullivan had spoken to, but from different points-of-view and further removed from the tragedies. She looked back at the crime scene photos and the coroner’s reports, looking for any missed leads or patterns.
But there was nothing. After several hours of digging, all she had to show for her efforts was half a missing pizza. And she didn’t even realize this until she was broken from her session by the ringing of her cellphone. Even before looking at the caller display, she felt guilty. She looked to the clock on the laptop and saw that it had somehow already come to be nine o’ clock…and she hadn’t bothered calling back home. She’d been that enamored with her work. It was nearly 7:30 back in Virginia, meaning Paige and Grandma Tate had likely just finished up dinner.
However, when she grabbed her phone on the second ring, she saw that it was Jack. She felt just as guilty when she realized she'd had no instinct to call him, either. But she pushed that guilt to the side as she answered the call. Just like yesterday, she was simply thrilled to be able to hear his voice.
“Hey,” she said, forcing herself to look away from her work.
“Hey yourself.” There was no accusation in his tone, but he did sound a bit off. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Same as yesterday.”
“So the treatments aren’t knocking you out?”
“No, not at all. I haven’t had anything bother me at all today.”
“Are you still trying to help out on that case?”
She hesitated for a moment because she could sense some irritation in his tone. Someone who didn’t know him well would probably have missed it, but she knew him well enough. She decided to let it go, though, and answered honestly. “I am. But honestly, it’s just been a lot of file-reading and speaking to dead leads. I promise you, Jack, there’s nothing dangerous or overwhelming about this case.”
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, huh?”
“I would hope so. Anyway, how are you?”
Jack chuckled, a sound Rachel never grew tired of. “Well, I have to be honest with you. I just had dinner with two beautiful ladies.”
