Page 4 of Her Last Confession

"They're not much to look at yet," Scarlett admitted, but there was pride in her voice as she gestured to the tiny green shoots. "But the nursery said they should bloom by late spring. I chose varieties that are supposed to be hardy—the kind that can survive almost anything." She smiled faintly. "Seemed appropriate."

"Life finds a way," Rachel said softly, thinking of all the times she'd felt like those fragile stems, bending but not breaking.

"That's what I'm counting on." Scarlett reached down to touch one of the small plants. "The yellow ones here are—"

Rachel's phone buzzed in her pocket—much the same way it had buzzed when Scarlett had called and broke up the Monopoly game. She pulled it out to see Novak's name on the display. Her new partner never called unless it was important. In fact, ever since Director Anderson had paired them up for the first time sixmonths ago, she could only recall him calling outside of a case on two occasions.

"I'm so sorry," she said, genuinely regretful. "It's work—I have to take this."

"Of course." Scarlett's eyes lit up with interest, some of her old spark returning. "FBI business? How exciting."

Rachel nodded, already bringing the phone to her ear. "I'd love to see how these roses turn out. Maybe I could come back next week?"

"I'd like that." Scarlett's smile was small but real—the first genuine one Rachel had seen today. "The roses will still be here. And so will I."

As Rachel turned away to answer the call, she couldn't help but think that maybe those simple words were the most important progress of all. She had a feeling, though, that whatever Novak was calling about would soon redirect her thoughts entirely.

CHAPTER THREE

The morning sun cast long shadows across the FBI field office parking lot as Rachel made her way inside. She was heading inside with no context at all. Novak had not been able to share anything with her merely because Director Anderson had given him no details to go on—only that there was a potential case he needed to see them about.

In her experience, when Anderson held his cards this close to his chest, it usually meant they were dealing with something unprecedented. Her shoes clicked against the polished floor of the lobby, the sound echoing off the high ceiling and mixing with the general murmur of agents scattered around the building. It was Saturday, so it wasn’t the usual noise of the weekdays, but there was still a feeling of anticipation in the air.

She caught sight of Novak waiting by the elevators, dressed in his typically crisp suit. His fingers drummed an irregular pattern against his thigh – a tell she'd noticed during their last case that showed he was more anxious than he let on. Apparently, the lack of information was bothering him, too.

"So, no details at all yet?" Rachel asked as she joined him at the elevators.

"None," Novak replied, jabbing the elevator button with perhaps more force than necessary. "Anderson wouldn't even give me a hint over the phone. Just said to get here ASAP. Wouldn't even tell me where we’d be headed if we were assigned the case.”

As they stepped into the elevator, Rachel felt an unsettling twist in her stomach. Even during her most active years in the field, cases that came with zero preliminary information rarely ended well. The last time Anderson had been this tight-lipped, they'd uncovered a human trafficking ring operating outof abandoned subway tunnels. That had been seven or eight years ago, but the case had given her nightmares for weeks. The elevator's quiet hum did nothing to settle her nerves, and she found herself checking her phone again, though she knew there wouldn't be any new messages from Anderson.

The doors opened with a soft ding, and they stepped out into the familiar beige hallway leading to Anderson's office. Rachel found herself falling into step beside Novak naturally, their footfalls synchronizing without conscious effort. She realized, somewhat surprisingly, that working with him felt almost normal now. Their last case, though challenging, had forged an unexpected bond. While he wasn't Jack by any means (and it wasn’t fair to make the comparison), he'd proven himself capable and trustworthy.

Rachel's mind drifted to Jack, of how they'd started as strangers, too. It had taken them nearly a year to find a groove to become seamless partners. To expect anything more of Novak was unfair—especially given that she had ended up marrying her last partner.

When they came to Anderson’s doorway, it was already opened. He heard them coming, looked up, and waved them in. The sunlight streaming through his window highlighted the grey in his hair and the tension lines around his mouth. A half-empty coffee cup sat beside a stack of files, the steam still rising in lazy spirals. “Agents, please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chairs across from his desk.

“Sir, is everything okay?” Novak asked.

"Yes, all is well," he said, finally directing his gaze toward them. I apologize for all the mystery," he began, folding his hands on his desk. "But this case is...unusual, to put it mildly. And there are still small bits of information coming in here and there." He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. "Are either of you familiar with a company called EndLight?"

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't heard that name in nearly two years, not since those dark days when the cancer had been winning. The memories rushed back – lying awake at night, scrolling through medical forums, desperate for any option that might spare her family from watching her suffer.

"Yes," she said quietly, aware of both men watching her closely. "During my illness, I... researched them. They were developing what they called 'peaceful passage pods.' Though that's just marketing speak for suicide machines." She felt Novak shift slightly beside her, but kept her eyes on Anderson. "The technology wasn't ready back then. Too many variables, too many risks. They were still in the testing phase."

Anderson nodded grimly. "Well, they're ready now. The peaceful passage pods have been up and running for about two months. No wide release at all, but there have been thirty distributed around the globe. Most are here in America, but there are a few that made their way to Japan, Australia, and Iceland.”

“Does this case have something to do with the pods?” Rachel asked, her curiosity piqued.

"We're not sure just yet, but it appears so…or at least some knock-off version. Last night, one of the pods was discovered in the forests within the Shenandoah Valley. There was a woman inside of it…and based on the little bit we know, the woman did not step into it voluntarily."

He took the moment to turn his laptop around to face them. There was a single image on the screen showing a sleek white pod, almost beautiful in its minimalist design. It was nestled among fallen leaves and tall grass in what appeared to be a dense woodland area. Yellow crime scene markers dotted the ground around it. What caught Rachel's attention wasn't the pod itself, but the drag marks in the soil leading up to it. Someone had fought hard not to go in.

She leaned forward, studying the details. "This location is weird. I mean… I thought they were only placing these in medical facilities, hospice centers..."

“That’s right,” Anderson said.

“So how did it get out there, in the middle of nowhere?”

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