Page 5 of Her Last Confession

"That's just it," Anderson said, leaning back in his chair. The leather creaked as he moved. "According to EndLight's records, this pod shouldn't exist at all. All their authorized units are accounted for as of two hours ago. Which means either someone inside the company is operating off the books, or worse – someone has figured out how to replicate their technology."

He pulled out a manila folder and handed it to Rachel. The folder was surprisingly thick. "As I said, the pod was found in the Shenandoah Valley area, about two hours from here. Local PD is securing the scene, but given EndLight's desire to keep this quiet and the... unique nature of the situation, we need our best people on this." He met Rachel's eyes. "The victim has been identified as Sandra Mitchell, and preliminary reports suggest signs of a struggle. Defensive wounds. This wasn't a suicide – it was murder."

Rachel flipped open the folder, scanning the first page. Crime scene photos showed scuff marks on the pod's pristine surface, a smear of blood on the control panel. "Has EndLight been cooperative?"

"So far," Anderson replied, but his tone suggested he didn't expect that to last. "Their CEO is flying in from California today. But here's what concerns me most – their chief engineer claims this pod is pretty much a direct copy of their design.”

Novak spoke up for the first time since entering the office. "So we could be looking at more of these out there? Underground assisted suicide facilities?"

"Or worse," Rachel said, her mind already racing ahead to darker possibilities. "If someone's willing to use one of these as a murder weapon once..."

Anderson nodded. "Exactly. The coordinates to the Shenandoah Valley site are in the file. I need you two to head out there now. Find out what happened, and more importantly – if there are more of these things out there.”

Rachel stood, folder clutched in her hand, mind already racing through possibilities. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep me posted, and take whatever time and resources you need on this…not just to figure out what the hell is going on, but to keep it as quiet as possible, too.”

As she and Novak headed for the door, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much darker than even Anderson suspected. The sick feeling in her stomach had only grown stronger. End of life pods as a murder weapon? It was morbid. She could only hope that this case would turn out to be a one-and-done affair.

"I'll drive," Novak said as they headed back to the elevator. "You can fill me in on everything you know about EndLight on the way."

Rachel nodded, but her thoughts were already two years in the past, to those long nights when she'd researched EndLight's pods, wondering if they might offer an escape from the pain and helplessness that was consuming her life. She had never seriously considered it, but there had always been an odd sort of comfort in knowing such a thing existed.

She'd never imagined she'd encounter one of their devices like this – as a murder weapon. Someone had taken a technology meant to ease suffering and turned it into something monstrous.

The elevator doors closed with a soft click, and Rachel took a deep breath, pushing away the memories of her illness and focusing on the case ahead. They had a crime scene to process,a company to investigate, and a killer to catch – one who had found a terrifyingly new way to murder. And she also had a family to reach out to, informing them that she wouldn’t be home right away…that she may be gone for a while.

Again.

CHAPTER FOUR

The bureau-issued sedan wound its way along the two-lane highway, cutting through Virginia's autumn landscape. As they’d come into the Shenandoah Valley, the change in scenery from the crowded spaces of Richmond was almost mesmerizing. The leaves from the trees of the surrounding forests had just started to change—not yet the harsh oranges and yellow of fires, but a softer hue that still gave off a feeling of warmth even in the presence of autumn’s cooler temperatures.

Rachel watched the trees blur past her window, enjoying the colors. The morning sun caught fragments of frost on the branches, making them glitter like broken glass. The leather of the passenger seat creaked as she shifted her weight, trying to work out the knot of tension between her shoulders. Two years of light desk work and physical therapy had changed her relationship with long car rides. And this one had only been two hours. Had she really, once upon a time, endured five and six-hour car rides with Jack in tow?

Yes, she knew she had. But that felt like a completely different life. She found it hard to even send her mind back in that direction, searching for the memories.

"You seem different today," Novak said from behind the wheel. His hands rested at ten and two, perfect form as always. Even after months of working together, his military precision still amused her. "More... energized."

Rachel shifted again, considering his observation. He wasn't wrong. There was something about this case that had awakened something in her—a familiar surge of adrenaline she hadn't felt since before her illness. Fear and anxiousness came with it, sure…but it had her excited as well. The old Rachel, the one who had chased down Alex Lynch, was stirring.

"Maybe I am," she admitted, watching a flock of birds scatter from a nearby tree. "First time in a while I've had a case this... unique."

"Unique is definitely one word for it." Novak glanced at her, his green eyes briefly leaving the road. "Most people would say disturbing."

"Most people aren't FBI agents." She allowed herself a small smile. "And most people haven't seen what we've seen."

A comfortable silence settled between them. Rachel had resisted working with a new partner at first, missing the easy rhythm she'd had with Jack. But Novak was growing on her. He was steady, methodical—different from Jack's instinct-driven approach. Where Jack had been lightening, Novak was the slow roll of thunder: predictable, reliable, and no less powerful.

"How's Paige doing?" Novak asked, smoothly changing lanes to pass a slow-moving truck. "Middle school's rough territory. I remember my sister saying it was likeLord of the Flieswith smartphones."

Rachel smiled, thinking of her daughter's latest academic triumph. "Straight A’s again this quarter. She's got a solid group of friends, too. Though these days, they mostly communicate through their phones, even when they're in the same room.”

"The joys of raising kids in the digital age?" Novak's voice carried the warmth of personal experience.

"She spends so much time in her room. I sometimes have to check if she's still breathing." Rachel paused, then added, "And how about your son... I'm sorry, I can't remember—"

"Carter," Novak supplied without a hint of offense. "He's eight. And don't worry about it—I know you’ve had a lot on your plate.”

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