Page 3 of Her Last Promise

She got to her feet, closing the lid of her laptop.“Well, you’ve got my attention…that’s for sure.Lead the way.”

As they walked to the elevator, Novak filled her in on the preliminary details, his words painting a picture that made Rachel's skin prickle with unease.Judge Smith had last been seen leaving the courthouse on Tuesday evening.His wife had reported him missing when he hadn't come home that night, waiting until one in the morning to make the call.One of his cars—presumably the one he took to work—had been found in the parking lot just behind the courthouse where he worked.But his body had been found in the front seat of another car left at his home.

"The weird thing is," Novak continued as they stepped onto the elevator, "there's no sign of struggle.His wallet, phone, and keys were all still in his pocket, too.Nothing seems to have been taken."

“I see…”

"You sure you're okay?"Novak asked as he started the engine."You seem distracted."

Rachel looked at him—really looked at him—and felt a flutter of guilt.Early in their partnership, she might have brushed off his concern or given him a sharp response.But he'd earned more than that.They'd been through enough together now that she trusted his instincts, even if she wasn't ready to share everything.

"Just one of those days," she said, softening her tone.

“Is the lull getting under your skin?”

“What do you mean?”she asked.

The elevator stopped and deposited them in the underground section of the parking garage.“It’s been sort of quiet and uneventful for about a week now,” Novak answered.“Times like that always make me feel like something big and overwhelming is right around the corner.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s what it is,” she lied, her thought still very close to Cody Austin.

They approached the sedan they usually took out on cases.He got behind the wheel, and Rachel gladly took position in the passenger seat.She'd become so accustomed to Jack driving when they'd been partners; and though Novak didn't seem to have a preference one way or the other, he'd seemed to pick up on her non-verbal cues over the past few months that, when given the chance, she preferred not to drive.

"Hopefully this case with the judge won’t be that bog, overwhelming thing,” Novak said as he pulled out of the garage.

As they merged into traffic, Rachel forced herself to focus on the case at hand, shoving thoughts of Cody Austin as far away as she could.Judge Marcus Smith.He was found dead in his car.No obvious cause of death.The facts lined up in her mind like evidence markers at a crime scene, each one pointing to a conclusion she wasn't ready to face.Of course, without an official police report to go from yet, it was all simply conjecture.

So now it was up to her and Novak to find the hard, concrete answers.

CHAPTER TWO

The late morning sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns of Oak Ridge Estates as Novak guided their Bureau-issued SUV through the wrought iron gates.The homes here weren't just houses—they were statements, declarations of success carved in stone and timber.Each property seemed to compete with its neighbors through meticulously maintained topiaries, cascading fountains, and driveways that curved gracefully toward multi-car garages.Though Christmas was just fifteen days away, few of these luxurious homes had elected to marry their exteriors with decorations—though few had put up lights that sparkled dully, just glass with no flicker as it was a bright, clear day.

It was the sort of neighborhood that spoke of old money and newer aspirations.Stone lions guarded one driveway, while classical statues posed in the reflecting pool of another.The lawns stretched for acres, dotted with ornamental trees that had likely been growing since before Rachel was born.

"Nice neighborhood," Novak remarked, his eyes tracking a gardener trimming hedges into perfect geometric shapes."Guess being a judge pays well."

The road wound past a small ornamental lake, its surface flat in the early December chill.A family of geese glided across the water, seemingly oblivious to the human drama unfolding in their carefully curated paradise.Rachel's attention was fixed on the solitary police cruiser parked ahead at the Smith residence, its presence oddly subdued against the backdrop of such opulence.

As they rounded the final curve in the road, the entirety of Judge Marcus Smith's residence came into view: a sprawling Georgian colonial, its red brick facade softened by white trim and black shutters.Four tall columns framed the entrance, supporting a second-floor balcony that stretched across the front of the house.Japanese maples, their leaves a brilliant crimson, flanked the curved stone steps leading to the front door.A three-car garage stood to the side, connected to the main house by a covered breezeway.Despite the large garage, a single BMW sat parked on the concrete driveway.

"One police unit," Rachel noted, pulling up beside the cruiser."Either this is being kept very quiet, or something's off."She studied the scene through the windshield, her years of experience already cataloging the details."No crime scene unit, no medical examiner's vehicle.Just one patrol car for a dead federal judge."

“The police did say they wanted to keep it quiet,” Novak commented.“It’s probably why they called the bureau for a singular murder.”

“Might not be murder,” she said.“Could be suicide for all we know…found in his car, in front of his house.”

The BMW sat in the circular portion of the driveway, its metallic gray paint gleaming in the sunlight.At first glance, it could have been a scene from any ordinary day—a judge returning home from court, perhaps pausing to check his phone before heading inside.But Rachel knew better.Death had a way of making even the most normal scenes feel wrong, like a painting hung slightly off-center.

A heavyset officer emerged from the front door of the house, his movements deliberate as he made his way down the steps.His badge identified him as Officer Douglas, though his weathered face and graying hair suggested he'd worn it long enough to earn the informal title of "veteran."His uniform was pristine, every crease sharp enough to cut paper—the kind of officer who took pride in appearances.

"Agent Gift?Agent Novak?"He extended his hand, his grip firm but not challenging."Thanks for coming out.Body's just as we found it—haven't touched a thing.Not in the car or inside.Had to talk the responding officers into backing off until you arrived."

Rachel retrieved a pair of latex gloves from the glove compartment of their car as Douglas shared this information.The subtle snap of rubber against skin seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet neighborhood.

"Who found him?"Rachel asked.

"His wife," Douglas replied, his voice softening."She's at St.Mary's now.Doctor's got her sedated.She was in a weird state of shock…which makes sense, I guess.She found him like this after reporting him missing two days ago—it hit her pretty hard.Can't blame her.Coming out to check the mail and then all of a sudden finding him…dead and in his car.He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished.

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