Page 10

Rachel studied the stark concrete facade of the county coroner's office through the windshield. It wasn’t the most inspiring of places to figure out their next steps, but it would have to do.

Next to her—behind the steering wheel—Novak shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him.

She had no idea why, but the sound made her think of the sheet that had been covering Diana Foxworth back in the coroner’s exam room.

She’d pulled up Steven Foxworth's number, switching it to speaker mode before placing it on the center console between them. The memory of his quiet voice and sorrow-laden face was still quite clear in her mind’s eye.

The phone rang twice before Steven Foxworth answered, his voice tight with strain. "Hello?"

“Hi, Mr. Foxworth, I apologize for bothering you again so soon—"

"No, please," he cut in. "Anything to help find the person who killed Diana. Anything at all." The raw grief in his voice made Rachel's chest tighten. She'd heard that tone too many times in her career, but it never got easier.

Rachel exchanged a quick glance with Novak. "I wanted to ask if you knew about Diana having blood drawn recently?"

"Blood drawn?" There was genuine confusion in his voice. "No, if she did, I wasn't aware.”

"What about her general health? Was she having any issues that you knew of?"

A bitter laugh crackled through the speaker.

"Diana? God no. She was the picture of health.

Always eating clean, always exercising." His voice softened with remembered affection.

"Always griping at me about eating too much junk.

Just last week she threw out my secret stash of Oreos.

Said she wasn't going to let me give myself diabetes.

" He paused, and Rachel could hear him fighting to maintain composure.

"Sorry, I... it's still hard to believe she's gone. "

"It’s quite alright, sir," Rachel said gently. She'd learned long ago that sometimes giving witnesses a moment to process their grief led to better information. “I wonder…do you know what doctor she saw?"

"Yeah, that I do know. We all went to the same family practice – Diana, me, and Becka. Wellness Family Medicine on Oak Street. Dr. Welsh's office. Been going there for years."

Rachel jotted the name down. "Thank you, Mr. Foxworth. We'll be in touch if we need anything else."

"Please," he said, his voice suddenly urgent. "Please find whoever did this. Diana deserved better than... than what happened to her."

"We will," Rachel promised, meaning it.

After ending the call, Rachel immediately looked up the number for Wellness Family Medicine.

As she dialed with the phone still set on speaker mode, Novak opened up his Notes app on his phone.

He seemed to always have it at the ready, one of the many things Rachel was starting to appreciate about him.

The phone rang several times before a crisp, professional voice answered.

"Wellness Family Medicine, this is Jessica speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hi, Jessica. This is Special Agent Rachel Gift with the FBI." Rachel's tone was equally professional. "I'm calling regarding one of your patients, Diana Foxworth. We're investigating her murder and need to look into any medical visits from the past few weeks."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, perhaps as Jessica absorbed the fact that one of their patients had been killed.

When Jessica did speak again, her voice had cooled considerably.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gift, but we take patient confidentiality very seriously here.

Even in the case of deceased patients, there are strict protocols we need to follow.

If you can come by to retrieve the proper forms—"

"I understand that," Rachel said, keeping her voice level despite her mounting frustration. "But we're trying to catch a killer here. The autopsy showed evidence of a recent blood draw, and we need to know if it was done at your office. And why."

"Agent Gift," Jessica replied, her tone clipped, "HIPAA regulations don't simply disappear because someone has died. There are specific procedures that must be followed, documentation that needs to be filed—"

"I'm aware of HIPAA requirements," Rachel interrupted, her patience wearing thin. "I'm also aware that there are exceptions for law enforcement investigations, particularly in cases involving violent crimes."

"Nevertheless—"

"A woman is dead," Rachel pressed. "Murdered in a vicious and violent manner. And whoever killed her might strike again. Every hour we spend dealing with bureaucratic red tape is another hour this killer has to find their next victim."

There was a long pause. When Jessica spoke again, her tone had softened slightly. "I appreciate the difficult position you're in, Agent Gift. Let me speak with Dr. Welsh and see what she advises. Please hold."

As generic hold music filled the car, Novak cleared his throat. "While we wait... I've been thinking about something. Both victims were wealthy, successful people, right?"

Rachel nodded slowly. "You're thinking class warfare?" It had crossed her mind, too.

"Maybe. In this economy, and in a city like this one…with the wealth gap wider than ever..." He shrugged, adjusting his tie. "Could be someone deciding to take matters into their own hands. Twisted form of economic justice."

"Like a modern-day Robin Hood, except with murder instead of theft?" Rachel watched a crow land on a nearby lamppost, its black feathers gleaming in the sun.

"Something like that. Think about it – Thomas Whitman was a tech executive, Diana Foxworth a high-powered attorney. And you saw Whitman’s home. That's a lot of wealth concentrated in two people."

Rachel considered this, absently noting how the crow seemed to be watching them. "It's possible. I've certainly seen cases like that before. But still…these murders... there's something cold about them. Clinical."

"Agreed. Most wealth-motivated killers tend to want to make a statement, right? There's usually more violence, more dramatic staging. These skills are precise, efficient."

"Almost professional," Rachel added while the hold music continued to fill the car.

"But we should keep the class angle in mind," Rachel conceded. "Even if it's not the primary motivation, it might factor in somehow."

The hold music cut off abruptly, interrupting their discussion.

"Agent Gift?" The voice was different now – older, more authoritative. "This is Dr. Miriam Welsh. And let me save us both some time and tell you that I understand why you're calling, but I can't simply release patient information without proper documentation."

Rachel opened her mouth to argue, but Dr. Welsh continued: "However, what I can tell you is that Diana had recently been asking about the legitimacy of cryopreservation. We had a rather lengthy discussion about it, with her wanting my medical opinion."

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. She glanced at Novak, who looked equally surprised. "Cryopreservation?"

"The blood draw you were asking about was part of a routine check-up," Dr. Welsh continued. "My impression was that she wanted to ensure she was in perfect health, possibly because she was seriously considering cryopreservation as an option."

"Just so we're clear here," Novak cut in, leaning toward the phone with an uncertain edge to his tone, "we're talking about freezing yourself while alive in order to cheat death, right?"

There was a slight chuckle from Dr. Welsh.

"That's the popular conception, but it's more complex than that.

Cryopreservation involves the preservation of a person's body immediately after clinical death, using specific protocols and cryoprotectant solutions – think of them as medical-grade antifreeze – to prevent ice crystal formation in the cells.

The body is then cooled to ultra-low temperatures to…

well, to preserve you until a cure for whatever is ailing you is found. "

She paused before continuing, her tone becoming more measured.

"The process has to begin immediately after legal death is pronounced.

The body is cooled with ice water, while mechanical chest compression maintains blood circulation.

Then the blood is replaced with organ preservation solution and the cryoprotectant chemicals. "

"And this actually works?" Novak asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

"That depends on your definition of 'works,'" Dr. Welsh replied.

"The idea isn't to 'cheat death' exactly, but rather to preserve the body and brain structure until future medical technology might be capable of both reviving the person and curing whatever caused their death in the first place.

It's controversial, certainly, but the scientific principles behind it are sound…

even if the technology for revival doesn't exist yet. "

Rachel pressed her lips together, processing this information. "Do you know if Diana had already begun looking into specific facilities, or was this just a passing interest?"

"I'm not certain," Dr. Welsh replied, "but based on our conversations, it seemed she'd already been in contact with a local facility. A place called New Horizons Cryonics.”

“That’s here in Charlottesville?” Rachel asked.

“Yes. They have an unusual business model – you make arrangements while you're still healthy, essentially securing your spot for when you reach old age or face a terminal illness."

"Are you familiar with the facility?" Novak asked.

"Only by reputation. I know they exist, but that's about it.

I prefer to stay in my lane of traditional medicine.

" There was a slight edge to her voice now, one of skepticism.

"Though I will say, Diana seemed quite excited about the possibility.

She talked about it as if it were a kind of insurance policy against death itself. "

“And do you—”

“I’m truly sorry, agents. But I’ve probably already said too much. So I’m going to go now…and I’d appreciate it if you’d not call me back.”

“I understand,” Rachel said. “Thank you, doctor.”

She ended the call, and she and Novak sat in silence for a moment. The only sounds were the soft idling of the car's engine and the distant hum of traffic.

"Well," Novak said finally, "this case just got very odd."

Rachel nodded slowly, already trying to sort through the implications. "New Horizons Cryonics," she muttered, pulling out her phone again. "Let's see what we can find out about them."

“You look into them,” Novak said. “I’ll see if I can find out whether or not Thomas was in any way connected to them.”

As they set to work in the still-parked car, the crow took flight from its perch, its shadow briefly passing over their windshield like a dark premonition.

Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that they'd just stumbled into waters that might be deeper than she was willing to consider.

Cryopreservation sounded very sci-fi to her, very over her head.

And if this case was taking them to places like that, what else might be waiting for them?

As she began typing the facility's name into her phone's search bar, she couldn't help but wonder: what kind of person kills people who are trying to live forever?