Page 18 of Her Last Warning (Rachel Gift #21)

Rachel shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fighting the urge to check her watch again.

The support group meeting was winding down, conversations fragmenting into smaller clusters as people gathered their belongings.

Styrofoam with lukewarm coffee or juice dotted the folding tables, and the sounds of scraping chairs against the carpet filled the air.

She caught Novak's eye beside her and he looked just as restless as she felt.

Eyes locked, they both gave a shake of their head.

Nothing suspicious had emerged during the meeting, no red flags or unusual behavior that might point toward their killer.

Rachel had even scrutinized a few people down to small movements and mannerisms, but there was nothing at all to warrant further conversation with them.

After another few moments, Madeline Hudson’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of conversation. "So next Wednesday, same time?" She smiled warmly at the circle of chairs, now breaking apart as people stood and stretched. "And remember, Martha's bringing those amazing lemon squares she promised."

A few gentle laughs rippled through the room. These people had formed bonds, Rachel realized – real connections forged in the horror and tension of their conditions. The thought that someone might be using these meetings to select victims made her stomach turn.

She then looked away from the group, redirecting her gaze to Dr. Walsh, whose presence at this meeting had been completely unexpected and, quite frankly, a bit suspicious.

She was still seated in her corner chair, though she was also wrapping things up.

Walsh hadn't looked up once during the entire meeting, her pen moving steadily across the pages of her notebook and only pausing to check her phone every now and then.

The woman had been in a world of her very own.

Even now, as laughter rippled through the room and goodbyes were exchanged, Walsh looked to be completely detached from the room around her—much less the people—as she closed up her notebook.

Rachel watched as Walsh tucked the notebook into a worn leather messenger bag before rising from her chair.

The doctor moved with precise efficiency, heading toward the same door she'd entered through earlier.

She was doing her best to go unseen…but was it out of respect or out of wanting to be unnoticed?

Rachel caught Novak's attention with a subtle nod, and they followed, maintaining enough distance to avoid disrupting the remaining group members.

The hallway outside stretched long and institutional, painted in that particular shade of off-white unique to public buildings.

Framed motivational posters hung at regular intervals, their generic messages about perseverance and teamwork casting slight shadows in the overhead lighting.

Another corkboard held signs and posters about local community events.

Their footsteps echoed against the tile floor, impossible to completely muffle despite their attempts at discretion.

"Dr. Walsh?" Rachel called out, her voice carrying in the empty corridor.

Walsh turned, and Rachel caught the flash of surprise that crossed her face before she could mask it. The doctor's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the strap of her messenger bag. After taking a moment to process her absolute befuddlement, she said: "Agents…?”

“Gift and Novak,” Rachel finished for her.

“Yes, of course. I... I didn't realize you were at the meeting."

Rachel studied Walsh's reaction carefully, noting the slight tremor in her hands, the way her eyes darted between them before settling somewhere over Rachel's left shoulder.

Was this the nervous response of someone caught in the act, or simply the natural reaction of an academic confronted by federal agents?

“Yes, well it seemed you were very deep into note taking,” Rachel said.

“And speaking of which, we’d like to ask what brings you to this meeting.

" She did her best to keep her tone neutral.

She positioned herself slightly to Walsh's left, while Novak unconsciously moved to the right – standard interviewing formation, creating a subtle psychological pressure.

Walsh's hand moved to adjust her glasses, a gesture that struck Rachel as both nervous and practiced.

"I... well, I suppose I should have mentioned this earlier.

" She drew in a breath, seeming to gather herself…

seeming to understand what this looked like.

"These support groups are valuable resources for my research.

I attend several in the area, always with the group leaders' permission, of course.

The perspectives I gain here are invaluable for understanding how people process medical uncertainties and miraculous recoveries. "

Rachel exchanged a quick glance with Novak.

The explanation made sense – too much sense, perhaps.

It aligned perfectly with Walsh's research interests, provided a reasonable explanation for her presence, and came with built-in verification through the group leaders.

Either Walsh was telling the truth, or she'd constructed an extremely clever cover story.

"And you've been attending this particular group for how long?" Novak asked, his deep voice carrying just enough authority to demand honesty.

"About eight or nine months," Walsh replied promptly. "Though I don't make every meeting. My schedule at the clinic and then at the university can be quite demanding."

Rachel's mind raced through the timeline of the murders.

They'd been speaking with Walsh yesterday evening, pretty much during ye exact time Michelle Lester was being killed– that much was certain.

The alibi eliminated Walsh as the actual killer, but could she be involved in some other way?

A partner, perhaps, or someone feeding information to the real murderer?

In a sick case like this, the possibilities stretched on and on.

The thought of bringing Walsh in for formal questioning flashed through Rachel's mind, but she dismissed it.

They didn't have enough evidence, and if Walsh was innocent, it would only waste valuable time they could spend pursuing other leads. You’re really reaching here, she told herself.

It makes sense that Anderson would want you on this case, but maybe he had no idea just how close you would get to it.

"Dr. Walsh," Rachel said, choosing her words carefully, "your research focuses on medical anomalies and unexpected recoveries. Given that connection, I imagine you have some thoughts about these recent murders."

Walsh's posture changed slightly, her shoulders squaring as she shifted into academic mode.

"It's horrible, absolutely horrible. These people fought so hard for their second chances, only to have them stolen away.

From a research perspective, each death represents the loss of valuable data about recovery and survival.

But more than that..." She paused, emotion creeping into her voice.

"These were people who'd already faced death once. They deserved better."

The sincerity in Walsh's voice seemed genuine, but Rachel had interviewed enough suspects to know that genuine emotion didn't necessarily equal innocence.

Her eyes fell to the notebook protruding from Walsh's bag.

"Those notes you were taking during the meeting – what kind of information do you record? "

"Mostly observations about coping mechanisms, support systems, psychological responses to recovery and finality," Walsh explained, unconsciously pulling her bag closer. "In the event I use any of it for my own research I don’t use their real names, of course. Ethics requirements."

Rachel remembered Walsh's earlier claim about not knowing the victims' names. She had named each one off last night when they’d been at her office and she claimed to have not heard any of the names. Here was a chance to probe that assertion—to perhaps catch her in a lie.

"If you're making points to keep names anonymous, I assume you are recording names in your notes?"

Walsh hesitated, and Rachel felt her investigator's instincts sharpen.

"Occasionally," Walsh admitted. "If someone's story is particularly relevant to my research, I'll speak with them privately, with the group leader's permission.

But that's rare – so far, I think it’s been four people… maybe five."

Rachel weighed her next move carefully. Eight or nine months of notes might contain nothing useful, but they might also reveal inconsistencies in Walsh's story or provide unexpected connections to the victims. "Dr. Walsh, would you be willing to share copies of your notes with us?

Any information could be helpful at this point. "

Walsh's hand tightened on her bag again, and for a moment, Rachel thought she would refuse.

The doctor's hesitation was palpable, filling the sterile hallway with tension.

Finally, Walsh's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"I suppose... yes, of course. Anything to help catch whoever's doing this.

There's bound to be a copier somewhere in the building.

We can make copies right now, if you'd like. "

As Walsh turned to lead them down the hallway, Rachel caught Novak's eye again.

His slight nod told her he'd noticed the same things she had – Walsh's initial reluctance, her careful answers, the way she protected her notebook.

But was it the natural caution of an academic protecting her research, or something else entirely?

Rachel fell into step behind Walsh, her mind churning through possibilities.

Walsh's alibi for Michelle Lester's murder was solid, but that didn't rule out involvement in the other deaths.

Her research provided legitimate reasons to attend support groups, but it also gave her access to vulnerable targets.

Rachel felt the familiar weight of uncertainty settling in her chest. In her years with the FBI, she'd learned that the hardest cases weren't always the ones with no leads – sometimes they were the ones with too many possible explanations, too many paths to follow.

And too many ways for a killer to hide in plain sight.