Page 15 of Her Last Secret

“Do you want to step off this case? I can do it myself, you know.”

No, I want to stay on. I just…I feel bad.”

“I had a thought about that, you know. What about Stephen Carson?”

The name instantly brought a smile to Rachel’s face, but she felt a bit ashamed that she hadn’t thought of him in a while. Agent Stephen Carson had stepped in and served as something of a protector for Paige and Grandma Tate when things with Alex Lynch had gotten overly heated. Paige had grown to absolutely adore him and still mentioned him from time to time.

“I don’t know. I think Director Anderson would have already assigned him if he thought it was necessary.”

"Yeah, but Carson is sort of semi-retired. You could call him yourself and ask just as a favor, not on official channels."

She almost argued it, mainly because she hated asking for help. But she thought of how excited Paige would be to see Agent Carson again. And the idea of him being back in the house did make her feel a bit safer.

“I’ll give him a call,” she said. “Do you mind updating Anderson on the case while I do it?”

“Sure thing,” Jack said. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried off down the hall.

Rachel grabbed her phone to call Carson, but there was a moment where she felt she’d stepped into the past. The mere idea of calling Agent Stephen Carson reminded her far too much of the drama and trauma her family had gone through when Alex Lynch was on the loose and targeting her family.

She pushed past it, though. If she was determined to wrap up this case and make sure her daughter was as safe as possible, she was going to have to ask for help. She took a deep breath, let it out in a shaky sigh, and made the call.

***

An hour later, Rachel and Jack stepped onto the sidewalk that looped around the small park that sat behind Benchmark Avenue Library. Because of the chill in the air, only a few kids were on the playground, giving the quaint little park a quiet feel. The children playing were dressed in cozy jackets and hats, their breath visible in the chilly air. The leaves rustled underfoot as Rachel and Jack walked along the sidewalk. It was constructed of uneven bricks, and trees lined either side, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The library sat at one end of the park, a red brick building with large windows and a pointed roof.

"Over there," Jack murmured, nodding towards a small bench where a woman sat by herself beneath a large oak tree. Her silver hair was swept into an elegant chignon, and she wore a pair of reading glasses at the tip of her nose, which she promptly removed as they approached.

"Mrs. Kingsley?" Rachel asked as they neared her.

“That’s me,” she said. She did not get to her feet but she did extend her hand for a shake. “And please, call me Barbara.”

Rachel nodded as she sat down beside Barbara. Jack remained standing to the side. They exchanged a few pleasantries before getting to the point—something Barbara seemed to appreciate. She seemed a bit nervous to be speaking to them, always looking back out to the playground or the library behind them.

"We're sort of on the clock, trying to find whoever is behind these murders," Rachel said. "So we should get to the point, I suppose. Why did you find it necessary to speak in person?"

“Because I have a name, someone you should probably speak with. But I didn’t want to discuss such things over the phone. I don’t know. It just didn’t seem proper. Like lazy gossip.”

“Okay. But first, what can you tell us about Sarah? When was the last time you saw her?”

“In person, just to see one another; it had been a while. Several months, at least. But I did catch her performance of What We Always Forget. It was quite something. She was such a great actress.”

"And within the past year or so, do you know of any occurrences where she may have been in danger? Did she mention any arguments, fights, or even just strained relationships with you?"

“No, not at all. Now, I do know she had a strained relationship with her father. Something to do with an uncle getting handsy when she was a kid, I think. But he passed away last year.”

"Okay, so tell us about this person you wanted to mention,” Jack said.

Barbara's eyes flickered with an unmistakable glint of unease. "There's someone else you should speak to," she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Juliette Warner."

"Who is Juliette Warner?" Rachel asked, leaning forward.

"A former costume designer for the theater," Barbara explained, her fingers interlacing nervously. "She was let go recently—quite abruptly too. It was all hushed up, but Juliette took it poorly."

Jack's brow furrowed, his analytical mind already sifting through the implications. "What makes you think she's involved?"

"Her beliefs were strident," Barbara continued, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. "She had strong opinions about the roles women should play, both on stage and off. And after her layoff, she became quite vocal about her disdain for certain people—mainly certainactresses."

"Emily and Sarah?" Rachel inquired, the pieces starting to form a chilling picture.

---