Page 34 of Her Last Secret

Suddenly, Hale's demeanor shifted. He became more defensive, getting to his feet and screaming. It happened so quickly that Rachel found herself instinctively reaching for her Glock.

In that same moment, Hale made a drunken move that was almost comical. He grabbed a book from the coffee table and threw it at Jack. By the time it fluttered to the ground, pages splayed like a birds’ wings, Hale had bolted towards the living room window, aiming to get away by means of the fire escape.

Rachel's instincts kicked in as she lunged forward, grabbing Hale's arm just as he reached the window. They struggled, their bodies pressed against the window, fighting for control. She could tell by his frame alone that Hale wasn’t very strong, but the drunkenness added something of an unpredictability factor. Still, by the time Jack had reached them and joined in, Rachel had Hale mostly pinned against the wall. Sensing Jack’s presence just moments away, Hale found one last spark of strength and determination.

The three of them stumbled and crashed into furniture, knocking over a lamp in the process. Rachel's heart was pounding in her chest as she held onto Hale's arm tightly, making sure he couldn't escape again. She twisted the arm up behind him so that if he did manage to escape at all, he’d pop his shoulder out of its socket.

“Damn,” Hale said, his teeth gritted against their force. “Look, I’m sorry. I panicked and I—”

“You may as well save it for the interrogation room,” Jack said as he removed his handcuffs from his belt and moved in to cuff him. “You’re under arrest.”

Jack slipped the handcuffs on easily and by that time, Hale seemed to have realized his error. He was suddenly docile and silent. As they caught their breath, Rachel glanced at Jack with a mixture of relief and determination.

They had caught their suspect, but their work was likely far from over.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

While Jack drove to the field office, Rachel’s gaze flickered between the rearview mirror and the road ahead. Vincent Hale sat cuffed in the back, his head lolling against the window with a sullen expression etched onto his face. He’d been something of an unexpected lead and though Rachel still had her doubts, it was the closest she’d felt to something like progress on this case ever since Jack had taken the call over dinner two nights ago.

Hale had been quiet since the arrest. Rachel had seen the look on his face numerous times, the face of a man who knows he’s been caught. More than that, it was the face of a man who realized that the sins of his past had caught up to him and now he had to face the consequences.

Rachel was already thinking about the line of questioning she’d use when they had him in an interrogation room when her phone rang. The caller ID showed Dir. Anderson. Whenever Director Anderson called in the middle of a case, it always meant either something promising, or another roadblock. This made Rachel quite anxious as she answered the call, unsure of what to expect.

“This is Gift.” She saw Jack looking over to her quickly, a look of concern in his eyes.

"Agent Gift," Director Anderson's voice crackled through the speakers, clipped and urgent. "There's been another murder. Rebecca Clarke—another actress. Anonymous tip, just like the others."

“Christ. When?”

“The call came in less than ten minutes ago. Local PD is sending a unit over to block the place off until you and Agent Rivers arrive.”

“Roger that,” she said, her nerves on edge, her thoughts already swirling with the implications. Clearly, Vincent Hale wasn’t their killer, though he still needed to be questioned and held accountable for his transgressions. “Got an address?”

“Sending it to you now.”

“Director, we do have a previous suspect in custody that we need to deliver first. We’re headed to the Broad Street precinct right now.”

“Okay. I’ll call ahead to make sure someone is there and ready for the hand-off the moment you arrive.”

They ended the call, and Rachel relayed the information to Jack. As she did, she noticed Hale sit up a bit straighter in the back—perhaps realizing he was off the hook for the murder charges, at least.

Jack stepped on the accelerator a bit more, blasting through intersections and laying down on his horn when he needed to. “Mr. Hale,” he said as the turn-off for the precinct came into view, “don’t you worry. We’re leaving you in capable hands.”

They pulled up to the precinct, the stark building looking like a small fortress in the night. As Anderson had said, there were already two men waiting idly at the edge of the parking lot. Jack stepped out to assist in getting Hale out of the back, filling the officers in on the charges and the brief interrogation they'd already conducted at Hale's apartment.

Two minutes later, he was back in the car and squealing tires out of the parking lot. The night closed in around them as they sped away, the darkness teeming with unseen threats and another murder at the hands of their elusive killer.

***

Rebecca Clarke’s modest home was nestled in the heart of the city, a small house hidden away along a series of similar streets with similar homes. Rachel’s pulse was hammering in her ears as they pulled up to the curb, the sight of a lone cop standing sentinel at the front door doing little to make her feel any better. The anger was there, too, riding the wave of emotion. It had become almost like some strange, secondary personality that she was always aware of.

And, of course, there was the headache, always lurking in the back of her head like a roaming storm cloud.

Jack parked in front of the house, behind the police cruiser, and they stepped out into the night. They flashed their badges and IDs at the cop standing guard, and he nodded gratefully.

“That was fast,” the cop commented. His face looked pale, perhaps because of what he’d seen inside.

“You’ve already been inside?” Rachel asked.

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