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She was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. The officer who’d met Rachel at the front door went rushing to the front of the house, but before he could make it halfway down the hall, a high-pitched, shrill voice filled the house.
“Mom? Dad?” a woman’s wavering voice said. “Is it…is it true? Molly…is she gone?”
Rachel turned to the sound of pounding feet as a woman of about thirty or so came hurrying down the hall. The policeman stood frozen for a moment, not sure how to respond. But when he saw the broken look on the woman’s face the moment her eyes fell on Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, he stepped aside and let them pass.
Mrs. Stevens let out a wail of despair as she got up and embraced the new arrival. The way they hugged, and the way the father nearly tripped over himself to join into the sorrowful embrace, made it clear that this was another child—Molly Stevens’ sister. Through it all, the cop who was pretty much serving as greeter waved Rachel and Sullivan over into the hallway.
"Look," he said. "We all know how this goes. I'll stay here until backup arrives; someone is supposed to be on the way with a grief counselor. You guys go do whatever else you need to do, and when they're able to talk, I'll let you know."
“I appreciate that,” Sullivan said. He pulled his wallet from his pants pocket and fished a business card out. he handed it to the cop and said, “Thanks for your help.”
Rachel followed him out of the Stevens’ house just six minutes after she’d arrived. She didn’t necessarily feel as if it was a waste of time. They’d learned Molly had a former fiancé that, if things continued to stall, could be questioned if it came down to it. And she’d also learned that, just like the other victims, Dr. Molly Stevens had pretty much been consumed with her work.
“Maybe we can stick around to find out the name of the fiancé,” Sullivan suggested. “That’s certainly a path worth exploring, right?”
“Could be. But we could also get that information from people at VexoCorp. I think we need to go back there, anyway. See if Dr. Stevens had an office there and have a look around."
“Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe we can knock both out, though. How do you feel about heading back over to VexoCorp while I do a deep dive on the fiancé. Maybe I can even get him on the phone or pay him a visit and get some information.”
“That’s fine with me, if that’s what you want. Again…I’m not looking to step on any toes.”
“Hey, if we can wrap this case and catch this killer before another person dies, you can cut off my toes and throw them at me.”
“That’s morbid, Detective,” she said with a chuckle. “But yes, let’s go with that plan.”
***
When she arrived at the VexoCorp building this time, there was a young redhead stationed at the front desk. Two people were sitting in the small waiting area to the left, both engaged in reading something on their phones. Rachel approached the desk and showed her ID.
“I was here earlier this morning to speak with Dr. Calloway,” she said, thinking: that’s putting it mildly. “Do you know if she’s still here?”
“I don’t believe she is. From what I understand, she was quite upset about the news concerning Dr. Stevens’ death. I assume you’re the agent she referred to?”
“Yes, that would be me. At the risk of sounding uncaring, I wonder if there is any way I might be able to get into Dr. Molly Steven’s office?”
“Yes, I can make that happen. Hold one second, please.”
The redhead picked up the desk phone and punched in an extension. Just a few seconds passed before someone on the other end picked up. The redhead said: "Agent Gift is here and would like to look inside Dr. Stevens' office." A pause, and then, "Okay." She ended the call and pressed a button behind the desk. The same soft buzzing noise Rachel had heard during her first visit sounded out to her left by the metal door that led into the rest of the building.
“You’re good to go,” the redhead said. “Dr. Stevens’ office is down the second hallway on your right. Office 2C.”
“Thanks.”
Rachel made her way to the door and once again found herself in the hallways of VexoCorp. The place was quiet, the only sounds coming from the hum of the HVAC overhead and the soft sound of someone clearing their throat from behind one of the doors along the hall. Rachel made her way down the hallway, passing by the intersection where she’d given chase to Sherry Calloway earlier in the day.
She found 2C, the door unlocked. She stood in the doorway for a moment, looking in. It was a daunting feeling to look into someone’s workspace, knowing that they’d never return to it. While the laptop on the desk may be repurposed and given to someone else, what about the books on the small bookshelf, or the files that were stacked nearly on the edge of the desk? What about the framed pictures and the little unicorn plush that was sitting on top of an unopened package of Post-It notes?
The office itself wasn’t very big; there was just enough room to comfortable walk around between the desk, the two chairs on the other side of the desk, and the walls. Everything was neat and clean, the books on the shelves pulled neatly out so that they were perfectly aligned. She eyed the laptop, wondering what sort of answers might be on the hard drive, what her email exchanges between Adler, Willis, and Stevens might have looked like.
She looked through the file folders on the desk, wondering if she might come across the marking that resembled a barcode—the oddity that had, for a while, seemed to link Willis and Adler. But she saw nothing of the sort. In fact, most of the folders were filled with what looked like drafts of product description and how certain medicines interacted with other certain medicines.
She then looked at the three different framed photographs that stood at different angles on Dr. Stevens' desk. In one of them, she saw the sister who had come into the parents' house, wrecked by the news of her sister's death. Rachel had hoped to find Willis or Adler in one of the pictures, but they were absent. Apparently, Calloway had been right—that the only communications between the doctors had been in the form of emails.
So then how does the killer know they’re linked? she wondered as she continued to look around the office. Or is he literally just picking off everyone associated with anti-aging and stem cell research?
It made her think about the security detail hopefully being in place for Sherry Calloway, and the list that the police were supposed to be putting together of anyone else in the field that could be a potential target for the killer. Maybe that was how they’d end this case—by quietly keeping an eye on those would-be victims and hoping the killer would come without knowing a trap had been set in place.
Because one thing became more and more certain as Rachel slowly backed toward the office door, feeling like this had been a wasted errand. This killer was working fast and seemed to somehow be one step ahead of them. It was clear that he’d planned this out in advance, that he was—
