Page 28 of Her Last Secret

Andy Ross's slumped shoulders forming a silhouette against the fading light that trickled in through half-closed blinds. The shelves around him were cluttered with an assortment of legal tomes and binders. When he turned to face them, Rachel's heart broke. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen such a broken man, and she'd seen lots of pained, grieving parents over the years. It looked as if Mr. Ross's insides had turned to jelly, and he was trying to remember how to stand.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ross," Rachel began, her voice steady despite the thick tension, "I understand how difficult this must be, but any information you can provide might help us catch Emily's killer. And we believe this man has also taken another life, another actress, a few days before Emily. So we really need all the information we can get."

Patricia, her hands trembling softly, nodded. "We'll do anything to help," she whispered, voice brittle as glass.

Andy only nodded. His eyes were vacant, his lips drawn tight.

"Over the course of the last few weeks, had Emily ever mentioned feeling unsafe?” Rachel asked, her gaze locked onto Patricia's. “Maybe just something as simple as an argument with a friend or co-worker? Something like that?”

A flicker of recollection sparked in Patricia's eyes, and her breath hitched. "Yes, actually," she confirmed. "She... she talked about feeling like she was being watched. Said it was probably nothing—just the price of being an actress wanting fame and attention—but she claimed it was a feeling she couldn't quite shake for about a week or so."

Rachel leaned forward, her instincts on high alert. "Did she give you any details about it? Anything at all?"

Patricia shook her head, her expression folding into deeper lines of regret. "No description. She brushed it off, laughed about it even. Emily never thought anyone would actually hurt her. I think…God, even with something like that, Emily was so worried that she was thinking too highly of herself. Andy and I always joked with her…about how a girl who doesn’t necessarily like the spotlight had chosen the wrong profession." Her words hung heavy in the room, a painful testament to innocence lost.

Andy's face was etched with sorrow as he finally managed to speak. "She had this lightness about her, always looking on the bright side. We didn't know... we should've seen how serious it was."

“Do you think there’s something to it?” Patricia asked. “Do you think she was really being followed?”

“We simply don’t have enough information to answer that just yet,” Jack said regretfully.

Rachel's gaze sharpened, the gears in her mind turning as she pieced together the new information. "Did these stalking incidents... did they happen close to the time Emily was killed?" she asked, her voice maintaining an even keel despite the simmering urgency beneath.

Patricia and Andy exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. It was Andy who responded, his voice low and measured. "Yes, it was just a few weeks before..." The words seemed to catch in his throat, as if saying them out loud tied the tragic events together in a way that couldn't be undone.

"Emily didn't think much of it, like we said," Patricia added, wringing her hands, the skin red and raw from constant worry. "She mentioned it so casually one evening over dinner, laughing off our concern."

Rachel absorbed this, her brows knitting together. She could almost picture the scene: a family dinner, the clink of silverware on plates, the warmth of conversation—and then Emily, with a dismissive smile, recounting a chilling encounter as though it were nothing more than an odd nuisance.

"Did she say how often this man appeared? Was there a pattern?" Rachel pressed on, aware that she was treading on delicate ground but unable to let the lead go cold.

Again, the parents shook their heads, the mother adding, "It was sporadic. Sometimes she'd see someone lurking after a show, or notice the same figure while out running errands. But she was always surrounded by people, and she felt safe in the public eye. And she had convinced herself it was nothing to worry about."

The room seemed to close in around them, the air heavy with what-ifs and regrets. Rachel sensed the palpable weight of their sorrow—a mourning not only for their daughter but for the missed signs, the overlooked details that might have saved her.

"And what else do you know about her personal life?” Jack asked. “Was she dating anyone?”

“There’s a guy she was seeing off and on,” Patricia said. “A will-they-won’t-they situation if there ever was one. He’s been out of town for the past few weeks, though.”

“Do you know where?”

“Somewhere in London. He’s a writer who got some sort of grant to do research for a book. They were crazy for each other but just could never make it…make…”

Patricia's eyes brimmed with fresh tears, and Andy's arm tightened around her shoulders, a fortress against the onslaught of grief. The small office, lined with shelves of family photos and mementos, felt almost like a funeral parlor.

"We can give you some time," Rachel said. "I'm sorry if we—"

“No, it’s okay,” Patricia said, sniffling. “This is important. We need to…need to help however we can.”

Both Rachel and Jack waited a moment before continuing. Jack broached the next question, sounding respectful. "During the last few weeks, did you notice anything about Emily that seemed off to you? Any changes in her behavior or habits?"

Patricia shook her head, her voice a mere whisper between stifled sobs. "No, nothing. She was her usual self. Happy. Full of life." Her words broke as she crumbled under the weight of her memories. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, and Andy reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Emily was always so vibrant," Patricia continued, gasping through her grief. "She had this light about her, you know? It's impossible to think we'll never see that again."

Rachel felt the sorrow in the room thicken like fog over a graveyard. It was almost like another living, tangible thing had stepped into the space with them. The pain in Patricia's cry echoed against the walls, amplifying the loss that had settled over the household.

With a subtle glance toward Jack, Rachel recognized the unspoken agreement between them—it was time to leave. They’d put these people through enough and weren’t likely to get more useful information, anyway. They slowly headed for the door simultaneously, looking back to the Ross parents with compassion.

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