Page 9 of Her Last Confession

“Yes. Same old Sandra.”

"Was she seeing anyone?" Rachel asked. "A boyfriend, perhaps?"

Claire shook her head, her fingers tightening around the mug. "No, not for months. She was focused on work. The accounting firm kept her busy. She said... she said she needed time to focus on herself." A bitter laugh escaped her…a sound that almost turned into a soft cry.

Rachel leaned forward slightly, noting how Claire's gaze kept drifting to a photograph on the refrigerator – Sandra and Claire at what looked like a beach, both squinting toward the camera. "Had anything unusual happened recently? Any changes in her routine, new friends, strange phone calls?"

"No, nothing like that." Claire twisted the tissue in her hands until it began to shred. "She was just Sandra. Reliable. Organized. Always ready to help anyone who needed it. She'd been doing better at work, too. Said she was finally getting recognition for her attention to detail."

The questions continued, each answer adding nothing substantial to their understanding. Through the window, Rachel watched a neighbor walking their dog, the mundane scene a sharp contrast to the heavy atmosphere in the kitchen.

Rachel was about to ask her next question when Claire spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "You know... the fact that someone stuffed her into one of those suicide pods... it's sortof eerie." Claire swallowed hard, her throat working. "Sandra... um, she attempted suicide last year."

The air in the kitchen seemed to thicken. Rachel exchanged a quick glance with Novak before asking, "Can you tell us about that?"

Claire's hands trembled as she brought the coffee mug to her lips. A drop spilled onto her cardigan, but she didn't seem to notice. "It was in our family's old barn. She... she tried to hang herself. But the rope was old, thank God. It broke." She set the mug down with a sharp click. "I found her there, just sitting on the floor, crying. We got her help after that. She was doing better. She was doingbetter."

“Do you know she would have wanted to attempt suicide?” Novak asked.

Claire only shrugged. “She’s always been sort of a gloomy person, you know? Intense mod shifts, that sort of thing. And it got so much worse two years ago when our dad passed away unexpectedly.”

Rachel committed all of this to memory, her mind already cataloging the possible connections. A failed suicide attempt followed by murder in a suicide pod two years later – it felt meaningful, but she couldn't yet say how.

"Was Sandra seeing a therapist?" Rachel asked gently.

Claire nodded, wiping fresh tears with what remained of her tissue. "Dr. Harriet Chen. Twice a month. She really liked her. Said she was finally starting to understand herself better." She stood suddenly, moving to a drawer near the sink. "I have her card somewhere. Sandra gave it to me in case... in case I ever needed someone to talk to, too."

“We can get the number if we need it,” Rachel said. “In the meantime, would it be okay if we contacted you should we need any more information?”

“Yes, please do. I want…Christ, I want answers. I want to know who did this.” She bit at her bottom lip to stop a flow of tears…perhaps an intense bout of wailing, judging from the way her cheeks had gone tight.

Claire Mitchell grabbed a fresh tissue as she escorted them back to her front door. She gave them a small, defeated wave as the agents made their way back to their vehicle. As they walked back to their car, Rachel pulled out her phone. She took note of a neighbor across the street, watching them with undisguised curiosity.

“Who you calling?” Novak asked as he opened the driver’s side door.

"Going to give Detective Wheeler a call," she said, fishing for the business card Officer Williamson had given them out at the site of the pod. “I wonder if he could maybe fill in some blanks about Sandra's suicide attempt."

She got into the car and dialed the number as Novak started the engine. The line was answered after two rings. “This is Wheeler.” His voice was gruff, distracted.

"Detective, this is Special Agent Rachel Gift with the FBI. I'm calling about Sandra Mitchell's case. We got your contact info from an Officer Williamson."

"Gift? Yeah, Williamson mentioned you might be reaching out." There was the sound of papers shuffling. "Actually, your timing is perfect. We just managed to unlock Sandra's phone."

Rachel's pulse quickened. "And?"

"We found a text message. Someone asked her to meet near where we found the pod. Message came from a contact listed as Alana Townsend – coworker at the accounting firm. And it looks like she’s the one who sent her out there."

“When did the message come through?”

"Just shy of nine o'clock last night."

“And this was a friend?”

“Seems that way,” Wheeler said. “You want me to send you the transcript?”

“That would be amazing. You can text it to this number. Can you also send me contact information for this friend?”

“Sure thing. But I can tell you right now that we’ve already tried calling, and there’s no answer. You need an assist?”

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