Page 23 of Her Last Promise (Rachel Gift #19)

Rachel’s second wind had kicked in about an hour ago and she could feel the nervous energy of it thrumming through her body as she listened to the phone ring in her ear. The small office felt even more cramped, with Novak pacing behind her. He was also on the phone, his low voice mixing with the gentle hum of the precinct's ancient air conditioning system as he spoke with Director Anderson. Rachel heard some of the conversation as she waited for the line in her ear to be answered—currently on the third ring.

"Yes, sir. Full surveillance on both locations," Novak was saying. "If he follows the pattern, Harrison's office and residence are our best shot at catching our killer the act. Yes, that’s right…correct. I don’t see why we’d need more than one unit for each location."

Rachel stopped listening in as the line was finally picked up on the other end of her call. Tanya Beswick’s voice came through, slightly breathless. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Mitchell, this is Agent Gift. I need to ask you about Michael—Nathan's brother. Do you have his contact information?"

"Oh, yes, somewhere..." There was a rustling sound on the other end. She sounded just as baffled as she had the first time they’d spoken, asking her about Nathan. "We don't exactly keep it on the fridge or anything,” Tanya was saying as she started moving around. “He's been... well, distant isn't really the word. Ever since this whole terrible situation with poor Marjorie started..."

Rachel leaned forward in her chair. "He's living in France, correct?"

"Yes, that's right." Tanya groaned a bit as she moved around on the other end. Rachel heard the faint sound of shuffling papers. "Let me just look through these folders. I know I have it somewhere..."

At that very same moment, the office door burst open without warning, causing Rachel to jump slightly. She and Novak both wheeled around at once. Officer Ryan stood in the doorway, his face flushed with urgency.

"Sorry to interrupt, but this is big,” he explained.

“What is it?” Novak asked, ending his call with Anderson.

“We just got a call from St. Mary's Hospital. A nurse—she was leaving her shift, heading to her car. Says she saw another nurse by the name of Jennifer Martinez driving out of the parking garage in a hurry…and she’s pretty sure there was someone else in the car, in the back seat, pressed really close to the back of the driver’s seat." He paused, catching his breath. "This woman said that a few seconds later when she was headed to her own car, she found Martinez's hospital ID badge discarded in the parking garage."

Rachel's heart rate quickened. She turned back to the phone. "Mrs. Mitchell, I'm going to have to call you back." She hung up without waiting for a response. "Ryan, do we know if Jennifer Martinez had any connection to the Mitchell case?"

"Not sure, but the nurse who called it in is still on the line. I figured you’d want to talk with her."

"Take me to her." Rachel was already on her feet, following Ryan out into the bullpen. Several other officers were milling about with interest, picking up on the fact that something of importance was taking place. "While I'm talking to her,” Rachel said to Ryan, “pull up everything you can find on Jennifer Martinez, please—especially her license plate number."

They reached Ryan's desk, where he diverted to another area, sitting at another desk to do as he had been asked. Meanwhile, Rachel grabbed the phone, taking it off hold. "This is Special Agent Rachel Gift with the FBI. Who am I speaking with?"

"Meredith Barker." The woman's voice trembled slightly.

"Ms. Barker, are you close with Jennifer Martinez?"

"No…not really. I mean, we’re not really friends or anything. We've worked together for about three years now, though."

Rachel's fingers tightened on the receiver. "Do you know if she ever had any involvement with the Mitchell family? Marjorie Mitchell's case?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Oh yes. Jennifer was definitely involved with them. I saw her talking with Nathan Mitchell several times over the past few weeks or so. Hell…maybe months, at this point." Meredith lowered her voice. "There were even rumors going around that Nathan might have tried to bribe her to... you know... to accidentally unplug his mother. It was ridiculous, of course, but that was what was being said…"

Rachel's blood ran cold. The pieces were falling into place with devastating clarity. “And did you interact with Jennifer at all today?”

“A bit. Just polite, passing conversation.”

“Did she seem any different than normal?”

“Not really. Not that I could tell.”

That was fine. She had more than enough to confirm a few different things. She thanked Meredith and hung up, standing motionless at Ryan's desk as the implications washed over her.

If Jennifer Martinez was indeed the fourth victim, then Nathan Mitchell couldn't possibly be the killer. He'd been in their custody for hours. Which meant they’d been wasting their time while the real killer was still busy making moves.

She spun around, nearly colliding with a uniformed officer as she rushed back toward the small office where Novak was on another phone call. Her mind was already racing ahead, calculating how much time they might have left. Judge Smith and Dr. Walsh had both died from complications of whatever drugs the killer was using…apparently in an attempt to sedate them. If Jennifer Martinez had just been taken, they might have a chance to save both her and James Harrison—but only if they moved fast.

Rachel waved at him urgently, causing Novak to look up from his call. The expression on her face must have told him everything he needed to know because he immediately said, "Excuse me, but I'm going to have to call you back. Something's come up."

"It's not Nathan," Rachel said as soon as he hung up. "He's been here with us for hours, but Jennifer Martinez was just abducted from St. Mary's parking garage. I just got confirmation that she had connections to the Mitchell case—there were even rumors she might have been willing to help end Marjorie's life."

Novak's face darkened. "If it's not Nathan..."

"Then we need to figure out who it is, and fast." Rachel ran a hand through her hair, her mind racing. "We need to get back in there with Nathan. He might know something he hasn't told us yet—something that seemed unimportant before but could lead us to the real killer."

They hurried toward the interrogation room, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. Rachel's phone buzzed in her pocket—probably Tanya Beswick calling back with Michael's contact information. But that would have to wait. Right now, every second counted.

The hallway lights seemed to flicker and shine with the same urgency Rachel felt in her chest. They had been so sure, so convinced that Nathan was their killer. Now that certainty had crumbled, leaving them with precious little time to prevent two more deaths.

Novak reached for the door handle, then paused. "How do you want to play this?"

Rachel took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We tell him the truth. His cooperation right now could mean the difference between life and death for Jennifer Martinez and James Harrison." She met Novak's eyes. "And we apologize. We were wrong about him, and we need to own that."

Novak nodded, his jaw set in a grim line. He opened the door, revealing Nathan Mitchell still sitting at the metal table, his head in his hands. He looked up as they entered, his eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion and stress.

"Mr. Mitchell," Rachel said, taking the seat across from him. "We owe you an apology. And we need your help."

Nathan's expression shifted from resignation to confusion. For a moment, he looked like a man who had just been snatched out of sleep. "What?"

"Jennifer Martinez was just abducted from St. Mary's Hospital parking garage," Rachel said, watching his face carefully. "Since you've been here with us, you couldn't have done it. It seems that we were wrong about you being the killer, and I'm sorry. But right now, I need you to look past that and think carefully. Who else might have a strong enough connection to your mother's case to want revenge? Who else might have been deeply affected by the court's decision?"

The color drained from Nathan's face. His mouth opened, then closed again. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I can only think of one single person…but that wouldn’t make any sense at all.

"What is it?" Novak pressed, leaning forward. "Who are you thinking of?"

Nathan's hands began to shake. "Michael. My brother Michael. He... he took it harder than anyone when Mom..." He swallowed hard. "He couldn't handle watching her suffer. He wanted to let her go, but I... I couldn't. I couldn't give up hope. We fought about it. Badly. He left for his home in France right after the court's decision. I thought it was disgusting, but he said he refused to be here to watch it play out.”

Rachel felt her pulse quicken. "Are you certain he’s still in France?"

Nathan took some time to think about it, and Rachel could see fear blooming in his eyes. "I haven’t reached out to him in a while. Three weeks or so, maybe. And that was through text. But as far as I know, yeah…he’s still in France. He…he’s a disgrace. He wanted to be as far away as possible from all of this.”

"How about your aunt?" Novak asked. "Does she perhaps have a better relationship with him than you?"

"Yeah, she's much more cordial. I think they email here and there, just touching base. But listen…I don't have much compassion for him, and I think he's a coward and a bastard for retreating. But there's no way Michael has been doing this. He just…he doesn't have it in him."

Rachel had heard the same thing out of so many mouths in the past, usually turning out to be false. It meant nothing to her. She turned to Novak and was about to suggest they head back over to speak with Tanya Beswick again. But before she could open her mouth, her phone buzzed at her.

Rachel stood up, her mind already racing ahead to next steps. They needed to put out an APB on Michael Mitchell immediately. They needed to check every short-term rental in the area. They needed to...

Her phone buzzed again. This time, she pulled it out, seeing an unsaved number on the screen. But she’d dialed it recently, so she knew who it was. She answered immediately, putting it on speaker.

"Mrs. Beswick?" she said.

"Yes. I thought you would want to know that I found Michael's information," Tanya said.

Rachel had no intention of telling her what she was currently suspecting. She’d rather get the next bit of information from Tanya Beswick without her feeling as if she was having to defend anyone. “That’s great. Would you mind just texting it to my phone?”

“Oh…yes, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of that.”

“No worries. I do need to ask, though…when was the last time you spoke to Michael?”

“Oh…that would have been when Marjorie was put on life support. He’d come home when she fell ill.”

“And you’ve not spoken to him since then?”

“Well, once on the phone, about…oh, six weeks ago? And we do email here and there.”

“Do you know where he is currently?”

“As far as I know, he’s still in France…at his home.”

“And do you happen to know if he’s married?”

She was vaguely aware of Nathan shaking his head at the interrogation table. As if to confirm this, Mrs. Beswick said, “No. He was divorced about two years ago.”

In other words, if he’s not at home in France, there’s no one there who could tell me where he might be, Rachel thought.

Rachel and Novak exchanged looks; he had come to the same conclusion as Rachel.

“Thank you for your time,” Rachel said, ending the call. As she started for the door with Novak on her heels, Nathan spoke up, stopping them.

“Hold on. Wait,” he said. “What…what is it?”

"Mr. Mitchell," Rachel said, "to put it bluntly, I don't think your brother is in France at all. I think he came back home to get revenge."

“No,” Nathan said with a bit of bass in his voice. “There’s no way in hell.”

"I need you to think very hard about where he might be taking these people after he abducts them," she said. "We can't take any chances, and I'm sure you know more about him than the—"

"I'm telling you right now that Michael did not do this!" He was nearly screaming it now, and Rachel could see from the hard set of his jaw and the tears welling up in his eyes that he had come to his breaking point. He was done helping them. And hell…she didn't blame him. They'd taken him away from his dying mother and were now telling him that they suspected his estranged brother of murder.

“Fine,” she snapped. She could only hope that having Jessica Martinez’s license plate number and now the name of a new suspect would give them what they needed. “Mr. Mitchell, I’ll have someone come in to have you sign a few release papers. After that, you’re free to go.”

“Thanks,” he spat.

Rachel almost wanted to push harder on him, to insist that he help. But again…she didn’t blame him for his lack of cooperation at this point. So without another word, she and Novak hurried out of the interrogation room with another suspect in their sights.