Page 21 of Her Last Promise

The buzz was a text from the bureau's administrative office, confirming they'd received her request for access to a list of recent missing persons reports.Rachel stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the reply button.Somewhere in the data they were about to receive might be the key to all of this – the connection they needed to find Harrison before it was too late.If they could overlay current missing person’s cases with hearings that both Smith and Harrison were a part of it, it might provide more helpful than they could even imagine.

The dawn light had evolved into full-on morning and somehow, she’d missed it.Sunlight streamed through the blinds and illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air.Rachel watched them swirl, disturbed by her movement.Her vision blurred slightly, and she blinked hard, trying to force herself to focus.

She pressed send on her reply back to the bureau, knowing that what came next would either break the case wide open or send them down another dead end that would have them diving into more case files and background checks.Either way, James Harrison's life hung in the balance, and the clock was ticking.

Behind her, Malcolm's keyboard clattered on, and Novak shuffled through another stack of files.Somewhere in the building, a phone rang unanswered, its shrill tone obviously not bothered by the drama unfolding in the same building.She wondered if it was someone calling for Harrison.And knowing that there was a good chance James Harrison might never make another phone call if they didn’t act swiftly seemed to wake her up.A flare of nervous energy passed through her as she forced herself to sit back down and get to work while she waited for the missing person’s reports to come through.

And all the while, her gut clenched with anxiety because she knew that while they were here, like busy bees in an office, their killer was still at large, likely planning their next move

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The conference room had transformed into something out of Rachel's early days in the bureau—when sleep was just a luxury for lazy people and the entire world seemed to buzz over the potential of the next break in a case.The room was positively thrumming with the controlled chaos of an active investigation hub.Steam rose from paper coffee cups scattered across the mahogany table, mingling with the sugary scent of glazed donuts that nobody had touched.The pastries sat in their pink cardboard box like exhibits in their own right, casualties of concentration.A half-eaten bear claw left abandoned on a napkin had begun to grow stale, its layers of pastry curling at the edges.The fresh coffee and snacks had been brought in Eloise Carter, a member of the staff who had come in and decided to stay, wanting to help nab whatever bastard had attacked Harrison.

The whir of laptop fans and the soft murmur of voices created a white noise that reminded Rachel of late nights at the bureau, the kind that stretched into early mornings when the trail was hot and sleep was a luxury they couldn't afford.She watched a young officer shuffle past the glass walls, his arms full of file boxes retrieved from Harrison's office.Each box represented more data to sift through, more potential threads to follow or dismiss.

Rachel rubbed her temples, studying the laptop screen before her.Her coffee had grown cold, a thin film forming on its surface, but she couldn't remember when she'd poured it.The list of missing persons cases had come through, and it was smaller than she’d expected.There were seven in all, each one a potential thread in this increasingly tangled web.

In the midst of it all, Novak gave an exasperated sigh as she sat his phone down for a moment."Still no luck with Harrison's wife.The next-door neighbor is taking all the calls to help out.She's currently at the hospital in a state of shock, and Harrison's daughter is being watched over by an aunt."

Rachel nodded, placing a temporary strike through Harrison’s wife as a potential source of information.Which was fine, really.She felt they would get the information they needed through their current approach...eventually.

Her phone buzzed against her hip, and she allowed herself a momentary distraction.It was Jack, sending a photo of Paige outside her school, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue while wearing her new purple backpack.The message with it read:Paige says have a nice day!

The normalcy of it caught in Rachel's throat—how her daughter could be having such an ordinary morning while she sat here hunting a killer.She traced her thumb across the screen, noting the small details: the wispy hair that had escaped Paige's ponytail, the slight scuff on her new sneakers, the way her smile still showed the gap where her last baby tooth had finally fallen out just weeks ago.

"Agent Gift?"Eloise Carter's voice cut through her reverie.The older woman's fingers moved across her keyboard with practiced efficiency, her reading glasses perched low on her nose.Silver hair pulled back in a neat bun emphasized her sharp features, and Rachel noticed her blouse was slightly wrinkled, suggesting she'd rushed in when called."I've accessed the internal database, like you asked.Where should we start?"

In that moment, Rachel would have done anything for Eloise—she of the pastries and fresh coffee.“I’m not sure yet.But just knowing it’s ready to go is a massive help.Thanks.”

"Hey, Gift?"Novak said from the other side of the table."We now have only six missing person’s cases.I just got a call, and it seems one of them is being closed.”

“Which one?”Rachel said, looking to the list and details on her laptop.

"Angela Martinez, seventeen.Richmond PD is closing it?"Novak leaned forward, a coffee cup warming his hands.The sleeve had started to unravel, and he picked at it absently."Apparently, she was found at her girlfriend's apartment in Petersburg.They were planning to get married in Vermont next month when she turned eighteen and her parents…well, they weren't thrilled about the idea."He paused, scanning the report on his screen."The girlfriend's parents took them in, already talking to lawyers about emancipation.Sounds like they've got a solid support system."

Malcolm, the security tech, hunched over his own laptop in the corner, muttered something under his breath as he worked with the surveillance footage.The overhead lights caught the sheen of sweat on his forehead.His tie had been loosened hours ago, and two empty energy drink cans formed a small garrison around his workspace.

Rachel stood, stretching muscles that had grown stiff from sitting too long.She paced to the window, watching the morning traffic flow past the building.People going about their normal lives, unaware of the drama unfolding in this room.A delivery truck double-parked across the street, its hazard lights creating rhythmic flashes against the building's glass facade.

She ran the other names through her head, trying to land on which one to go after.She knew that if any of these names were even remotely linked to Judge Smith or James Harrison, that was where they needed to go.

“Eloise, can you check for Mike Dearborne in the server?”

“Sure can.One sec.”Rachel sighed and turned to watch the woman search for the name in the internal servers.After just ten seconds, she was shaking her head.“No.Sorry.Nothing.”

"Let's run Patricia Walsh," Rachel suggested, turning back to watch Eloise navigate through the database.The clicking of keys filled the silence, punctuated by the distant sound of police radios in the hallway.Outside the conference room's glass walls, she could see uniformed officers turning away yet another confused employee..This was a young paralegal, clutching her purse to her chest as she was escorted back to the doors.

Eloise's sharp intake of breath drew Rachel's attention back to the screen."Here we go.We’ve got a match.Agents.”

At once, Rachel and Novak descended upon Eloise as she remained at one of the many laptops stationed at the table.“Looks like Dr.Patricia Walsh testified in the Mitchell case."Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up document after document."Neurologist, specialized in brain death criteria."Her voice took on the measured tone of someone reading a story they already knew wouldn't end well."She was the expert witness who confirmed Marjorie Mitchell's condition was irreversible."

“Jesus, I think I read about that one,” Novak said.“But there was nothing to this detail.What else do we have?”

With a bit of a tremble in her voice, Eloise went on.“The case involved one Marjorie Mitchell, age 68, massive stroke.She was maintained on life support at Saint Catherine's Medical Center.Her son, Nathan Mitchell, was attempting to sue for the right to remove life support, citing his mother's advance directive.But there was no such written record found.”

As Eloise continues to scroll, the medical records went zooming past: CT scans, EEG readings, clinical assessments, all painting a picture of devastating brain damage.

"Judge Smith presided," Eloise continued, scrolling through the documentation.Her long fingers traced lines of text as she read."And Mr.Harrison was the prosecutor representing the hospital network."She adjusted her glasses, frowning."It's odd, though.The hospital's position seems to contradict standard protocol.Usually, they're the ones pushing to honor advance directives, if only to free up resources."

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