Page 42 of Her Last Confession

“Oh, I’ll live.”

Rachel stepped away from the ambulance in the direction of the suicide pod. For a moment, she found herself drawn away from the chaos, recalling that soft, inviting blue light the pod had surrounded Jennifer in... The weight of the night pressed down on her, making her think of all the times she'd stood at similar scenes, all the lives balanced on the edge of darkness.

But that pod…it was an instrument of death no matter how you looked at it. And standing so close to it now, feeling its intent pressed into the night, Rachel felt tears coming on. She thought of her own imminent death. Yes, she'd beaten cancer and ensured so much…but one day, everyone met an end, one way or another.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before calling a saved number. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Paige…”

She fought back tears, not quite sure where they were coming from. She tried to speak again, but her throat tightened up.

“Mom, what’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping a tear away from her cheek. “I just wanted to check in. How is everyone?"

"We’re good. Just making dinner. Mac and cheese with hotdogs cut up in it.”

“Jack’s idea, I take it?” Rachel said, smiling.

“Oh, you know it. Want me to get him?"

"In a minute." Rachel turned to look back at the scene behind her – the lights, the pod, the killer in custody – and felt the weight of what could have been. "I just wanted to hear your voice. Tell me about your day."

"Well, I studied my butt off for that English test, I have tomorrow" Paige said, pride evident in her voice. As Paige launched into the details of her day, Rachel felt more tearsprickling at the corners of her eyes. Here she was, standing mere feet from a machine designed to end lives, listening to her daughter talk about her day. Such a vibrant ray of life in the presence of a death machine. It made the night feel both peaceful and sinister at the same time.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Paige's voice cut through her thoughts. "You're being quiet."

Rachel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm perfect, honey. Just perfect. Put Jack on for a minute?"

There was a shuffling sound, then Jack's warm voice came through the phone. "Hey, you. Rough night?"

"Yeah," Rachel admitted. "But we got him. Case closed."

"That's my girl." She could hear the pride in his voice. "Coming home soon?"

"Soon as I can.” She looked to her hand and considered telling him that she may have to take a pitstop by a hospital. But she didn’t want to dive into all of that right now. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. See you soon.”

Rachel ended the call as she watched Wheeler's cruiser pull away, Bradley secured in the back. The man who had tried to take another life tonight would face justice, while she – who had once been so close to death herself – stood here blessed with a second chance, surrounded by all the reasons to live.

She took a deep breath of the cool night air. Behind her, the organized chaos continued – radios squawking, cameras clicking, voices calling out to each other through the darkness. A tow truck's headlights swept across the scene as it began the careful process of extracting the stuck patrol car.

But Rachel felt centered now, grounded. Tomorrow there would be paperwork and interviews, evidence to process and statements to take. But tonight, she had helped save a life, and she was going home to her family.

That was more than enough.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Scarlett Kline hummed softly as she knelt in the rich earth of her garden, the morning sun warming her shoulders. Her knees pressed against the grass, cushioned by the gardening pad she'd treated herself to last week—a cheerful yellow thing with little roses printed on it. The weight of the small trowel in her hand felt good—purposeful. She'd always dreamed of having a proper rose garden, but somehow there had never been time before. Funny how a terminal diagnosis could finally give you permission to pursue your dreams.

The backyard wasn't large, but it was hers, every square foot of it. The previous owners had let it go wild, but Scarlett had spent the last few weeks slowly reclaiming it. She'd cleared away the tangle of weeds that had choked out the flower beds along the fence, trimmed back the overgrown butterfly bush that had sprawled across half the yard, and laid fresh mulch around the base of the ancient maple tree that dominated the back corner. Its leaves were just starting to turn, hints of gold appearing among the green.

She sat back on her heels, surveying the neat row of bushes she'd planted. They weren't much to look at now—just woody stems with a few leaves clinging stubbornly to their branches—but in her mind's eye, she could already see them in full bloom. Yellow roses had always been her favorite, their sunny faces turned toward the sky. She'd chosen a variety called "Walking on Sunshine," which seemed appropriate given her surprisingly good morning. The garden center employee had shown her pictures of the mature plants, their petals a warm butter-yellow with edges that blushed slightly orange in the summer heat.

For the first time in weeks, she'd slept through the night without waking in pain. Even better, she'd actually felt hungry atbreakfast. Real hunger, not the obligation to eat that had become her norm. Two eggs and two pieces of toast had disappeared from her plate, and her stomach was already growling again. Rachel would be thrilled when Scarlett told her at their next visit.

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