Page 9

Rachel sat at a borrowed desk in the Bowery precinct's bullpen, drumming her fingers against the scratched wooden surface as she waited for the coroner to pick up her call. The small station hummed with the usual activity—phones ringing, officers chatting, the rhythmic thud of a copying machine in the corner. But Rachel's focus remained on the marks she'd seen on Carla Rhodes' wrists and ankles. Those ligature marks told a story that didn't match the narrative of a simple suicide.

She also felt very tired—not physically, but emotionally. She and Novak had remained at Julia’s home until a neighbor had been able to come over and sit with her. Being with the woman, so freshly heart-broken, had been awful. Rachel still heard the wails in her own head as she listened to the other line ringing in her head, the coroner’s phone now having run five times.

Finally, it was answered. "County Coroner's Office," a gruff voice finally answered.

"This is Special Agent Rachel Gift with the FBI, working a case here in Bowery. I know the body hasn’t been there for very long, but I wanted to check if you've found anything noteworthy in your examination of Carla Rhodes."

“One moment. Let me check.”

Rachel wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She knew that aside from more scratches, bruises, or other topical marks, there would have been nothing found. Not yet. But she simply felt she had to keep the case moving forward in any way she could.

That same voice came back on the line about two minutes later, and she could hear the apologetic tone right away. "Agent Gift, the full examination has barely begun. “Of course, these things take time to—"

"I understand," Rachel interrupted. "But those marks on her wrists and ankles—they suggest she was restrained for an extended period. I'd appreciate it if you could call me the moment anything unusual is found, no matter how small."

The man on the other end sighed. "Sure thing, Agent. I'll add your number to my contacts. But don't expect anything comprehensive for at least twenty-four hours."

Rachel ended the call; it was pretty much what she’d been expecting. She’d been at this job long enough to know what the coroner’s timelines looked like. She did know, though, that it sometimes went a bit faster in smaller communities. So she at least had that going for her.

She looked over to where Novak sat hunched over a computer terminal, scrolling through public records on Carla and any name that had been mentioned in her missing person files. His tie was already loosened, his sleeves rolled up as he dug through databases. She crossed the small bullpen to join him, her shoes clicking against the linoleum floor.

"Find anything interesting?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Not much. Carla Rhodes was clean as they come. No criminal record, not even a parking ticket." He clicked through a few more screens. "Graduated Virginia Commonwealth University with a business degree, worked as an accountant at a mid-sized firm in Richmond. Nothing that screams 'high-risk lifestyle.'"

Rachel nodded, her mind already moving to the next avenue of investigation. "What about her ex-husband? Anderson Bowman?" She'd noted his name in the missing persons report, along with his relocation to New York after their divorce.

"Haven't gotten there yet," Novak admitted, reaching for his coffee cup only to find it empty.

Rachel pulled out her phone, scrolling to find Bowman's New York number. "I think we need to—"

The precinct's front door swung open with a bang, drawing everyone's attention. Rachel saw one cop not too far away from the front door actually go for his gun. Thankfully, cool heads prevailed and the situation was given a moment to breathe as a man walked through the door. He looked to be in his late twenties, his thin frame seeming to sway slightly as he approached the front desk. His clothes—khakis and a wrinkled blue button-down—hung loose on his gaunt frame. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his pale skin had an almost grayish tinge that spoke of too many sleepless nights.

"Keith," Deputy Leery called out from across the room, recognition and mild frustration mixing in his voice. "We talked about this on the phone an hour ago."

"She's still not home," the man—Keith—said, his voice cracking. "Andrea's still not answering her phone. Something's wrong, I'm telling you."

Another officer stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Keith's shoulder. "Mr. Grimm, we understand you're worried, but as we explained earlier—"

"I don't care about your forty-eight-hour rule!" Keith shrugged off the officer's hand. "Andrea's been clean for almost three months. She wouldn't just disappear, not now. And Dr. Tharpe called me this morning because Andrea missed her appointment. She's never missed a session, not once since she started therapy. It was the one thing keeping her clean. She…she…she's in trouble. Maybe using again, but God, I hope not. I just need to find her."

Rachel watched the exchange with growing interest. The timing was too coincidental to ignore—another missing woman, right as they discovered Carla Rhodes' body?

"Keith," Deputy Leery said, his tone patronizing, "we know you and Andrea have been trying to get clean, and that's commendable. But given her history, maybe you're right. Maybe she had a slip-up and got embarrassed about it. Maybe she—"

"Our history doesn't matter!" Keith's voice rose, drawing stares from around the bullpen. "We're both clean now. Andrea worked so hard to get here. She wouldn't throw it all away, not after everything we've been through."

Rachel stood up, catching Novak's eye. He nodded, already sensing her thoughts. She approached Leery and spoke in a low voice. "Deputy, I'd like to speak with Mr. Grimm, if you don't mind."

Leery raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he looked embarrassed that he had been engaging in such a loud discussion in front of everyone. "Agent Gift, with all due respect, I’m quite sure there’s nothing to this. Both Keith and his girlfriend Andrea have been in routine trouble and I know for a fact that during their darker days, they would simply disappear out of town for days at a time.” He looked at Keith as if he were a nuisance, sighing. “I’m sure you know how drug users disappear for a few days, their loved ones panic, and then they turn up after a bender."

"You’re right, and I understand," Rachel said, keeping her voice steady. "But we just found a woman's body less than twenty-four hours ago. I'm not comfortable dismissing any disappearances right now, regardless of the circumstances."

Leery nodded, and his eyes cast downward. It was the look of a man who had completely missed the point. As he seemed to settle into understanding the mistake he'd potentially made, Rachel turned to Keith, who was watching their exchange with desperate eyes.

"Mr. Grimm, was it?” she asked the young man.

“Just Keith.”

“Okay, Keith. Would you mind speaking with Agent Novak and me for a few minutes?"

Keith's shoulders sagged with relief. "Yes, please. Thank you." He looked back to Leery with a distrusting look—maybe with a bit of sadness as well.

They led him to a small interview room off the main bullpen. The space was cramped, with just enough room for a table and three chairs. A small, dusty window let in some late morning light that somehow gave the room a dusty feel.

“I overheard what you and Deputy Leery were talking about,” Rachel said. “I take it Andrea is your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

"When exactly did you last see her?"

Keith ran a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. "Yesterday morning. We had breakfast together at my place—just coffee and toast. She was in a good mood, talking about maybe going back to school now that she's clean. And maybe moving in with me." His voice caught. "She had her therapy appointment with Dr. Tharpe scheduled for this morning at ten. But when Dr. Tharpe called me asking where Andrea was, I knew something was wrong. Andrea takes her recovery seriously. She wouldn't just skip therapy."

"And you've tried calling Andrea?" Novak asked.

"A hundred times. It goes straight to voicemail now. I went to her place, but her car was gone. There’s a neighbor about fifty feet down the road from her but he wasn’t any help. And as far as I can tell, no one has seen her since we had breakfast yesterday. Not the women at her work, either.”

Rachel leaned forward. "Keith, I need you to be completely honest with me. Is there any chance Andrea might have relapsed?"

"No," Keith said firmly, meeting Rachel's eyes. "I know what you're thinking—junkie couple, probably scored some drugs and went on a bender. It’s our reputation around here and, based on how Leery is acting, not one we’re ever going to live down. But we're past that. I swear. We sort of kicked it for each other, you know? And Andrea…she’s been clean for eighty-seven days. She counts every single day. Has these little milestone cards she keeps in her wallet. She was so proud of hitting the three-month mark next week." His voice cracked again. He shook his head as his eyes began to well up with tears. "Something's wrong. I can feel it."

Rachel shared a look with Novak before turning back to Keith. "We're going to look into this, okay? Can you write down Andrea's address and Dr. Tharpe's contact information for us?"

Keith nodded, immediately grabbing at the notebook and pen sitting on the table. He leafed past a few pages of what appeared to be random notes taken in this very room by officers in the past. As Keith scribbled the information down, Rachel whispered to him. “Excuse us for one moment.”

She opened the door and stepped out of the interview room. Novak followed behind her and stayed close as she motioned for Deputy Leery to join them in the hallway. Leery came over, still with that troubled look on his face. "I want to run something by you about the Rhodes case."

"Sure thing,” he said. Rachel thought he might be very anxious to help in any way he could after the agents had seen his very fast rejection of Keith Grimm.

"Those marks on Carla's wrists and ankles—they weren't just from a single instance of being tied up. The bruising patterns suggest prolonged restraint, probably over several weeks or months."

"Yeah, all that’s been covered. So what are you thinking?"

"I think someone held her captive all this time. And I think they forced her to write that suicide note before taking her." Rachel kept her voice low, recalling how Novak had already stated that he felt like this theory was a bit of a stretch. "Think about it—the note gives everyone a reason not to look too hard for her. By the time the body's found, the trail's gone cold."

Leery rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That's quite a theory, Agent Gift. But why go through all that trouble? Why not just kill her right away?"

"I don't know yet," Rachel admitted. "But now we have another woman missing, and for now, I am going to operate under the assumption that they're connected. If I'm wrong…oh well. But if I'm right, it could be huge, and it could get us to the end of this a hell of a lot faster."

"Keith Grimm's girlfriend? Come on, that's a stretch. Carla Rhodes was an educated accountant. Andrea Haskins is a recovering addict. What possible connection could there be?"

“Maybe just that they were there…in the killer’s sight. Sometimes that’s all the connection that’s necessary.”

“She’s right,” Novak said. He hitched a thumb back to the little interrogation room and said, “he’s currently writing down the information for Anrea’s therapist. I think we should talk to this Dr. Tharpe," he said. "If Andrea was having any thoughts of self-harm or showing other concerning behaviors, her therapist might know. It might be another link."

“What?” Leery asked. “Suicidal tendencies?”

“Could be.”

The mention of self-harm triggered something in Rachel's mind. She quickly walked back to the desk where they'd been reviewing Carla's file, flipping through pages until she found Julia's statement about her sister's state of mind before disappearing.

"Leery," she called out. "Look at this. Julia told us Carla had been talking about having nothing to live for, right? Even if she didn’t write the note of her own accord, she was struggling. What if that's the connection? What if someone is specifically targeting women who are struggling with thoughts of suicide?"

The deputy's skeptical expression wavered. "That's... that's dark, Agent Gift. Even for this job."

"But it fits," Rachel pressed. "The suicide note. The careful treatment of Carla's body. If Andrea is being held by the same person..." She let the implications hang in the air.

"Alright," Leery conceded. "What's our next move?"

Rachel grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. "Novak and I will talk to Dr. Tharpe. Can you pull any missing persons reports from the past year? Focus on women between twenty and forty, especially any cases where suicide was mentioned or suspected."

Rachel hurried back to the interrogation room as she slid her coat on. She opened the door and peered in. “Got that information?”

Keith nodded, tearing out the sheet he’d written on and handing it over. Now that some kind of action was being taken, he looked slightly more composed but still clearly worried. "You'll find her, right?" he asked, his voice wavering and fragile. "You'll find Andrea?"

Rachel met his gaze. "We're going to do everything we can, Keith. I promise."

But as she and Novak exited the room and headed for the doors, Rachel now felt that they were racing against an invisible clock. If she was right about the connection between Carla and Andrea, they needed to move fast. Because somewhere out there, a predator was hunting vulnerable women—and Rachel had a terrible feeling that Andrea Haskins might not be his last victim.