Page 31 of Her Last Promise

She'd ducked into the break room after hearing the news, finding herself alone among the mismatched furniture and the ever-present scent of microwaved leftovers.Dear Lord,she'd whispered, kneeling beside the worn couch,please watch over Nathan.You know his heart.You know he's only trying to do what he thinks is right.The prayer had felt inadequate, but it was all she could offer.

The elevator finally dinged, and Jennifer stepped inside, her mind drifting to the countless conversations she'd had with Nathan over the past several weeks.He'd always been there, sitting beside his mother's bed, reading to her or just holding her hand.Sometimes, in the quiet moments between Jennifer’s rounds, she'd stop to talk with him.They'd shared stories about their faith, about family.He'd listened with genuine interest when she'd mentioned being a single mom, even offering to recommend a better after-school program for her son, Joseph, than the one she was currently using.

The thought of Joseph sent a fresh wave of guilt through her.Mrs.Peterson had already stayed an extra hour past her usual babysitting time.Jennifer glanced at her watch—6:35 PM.She should have already picked him up.Just another working mom letting someone else raise her childwhispered that nagging voice in her head.Jennifer pushed it away, reminding herself that Joseph was fed, safe, and loved—even if she had to work long hours to keep it that way.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to the parking garage.Jennifer pulled her jacket tighter against the evening chill.Her footsteps seemed louder here, bouncing off concrete walls and steel support columns.The garage always made her nervous in the evening and the early morning hours, despite the security cameras and bright lighting.Row D,she reminded herself, scanning for her old Honda Accord.

As she walked, her thoughts returned to Marjorie Mitchell and her son, Nathan.After ten years of nursing, Jennifer had developed an instinct about these things.The slight changes in skin color, the subtle shifts in vital signs—Marjorie was slipping away, despite the machines keeping her body functioning.She'd seen it too many times before.

Just yesterday, she'd noticed the first signs of tissue breakdown, despite their best efforts at prevention.Marjorie's blood pressure had been increasingly unstable, requiring more and more intervention to maintain.These weren't the kind of details she included in her charts—they were more like pieces of a puzzle she'd learned to recognize over years of watching patients fade away.

I should have told Nathan,she thought, guilt gnawing at her again.But how could she?Every time she'd considered it, she'd seen the hope in his eyes, heard the conviction in his voice when he talked about his mother's recovery.In her heart, Jennifer understood his desperation.And she knew the doctors would not say anything until there was hard evidence to support the deterioration and worsening condition.

Her car came into view, and she reached into her scrub pants for her keys.The familiar weight of the cross around her neck seemed heavier tonight, a reminder of the moral complexity of Marjorie's situation.Yes, she believed in the sanctity of life, but she'd also witnessed enough prolonged deaths to question whether keeping someone artificially alive was always the right choice.

The key fob clicked, and the car's lights flashed in the dimness.Jennifer opened the driver's side door, her mind already on home, on Joseph’s bedtime routine, on finally getting off her feet.She'd promised him chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast tomorrow to make up for another late night, and she still needed to stop by the store for—

The movement to her right registered a split second too late.

A shadow detached itself from behind a concrete column, and suddenly there was a man there, something dark and metallic in his hand.She knew it was a gun, but her brain seemed unable to process this.Jennifer's breath caught in her throat as he shoved her roughly into the car, her hip banging painfully against the steering wheel.Her nurse's badge caught on the door frame and clattered to the concrete floor.

The back door opened with a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the empty garage.Jennifer's heart hammered against her ribs as the man slid into the seat behind her.She could smell him now—a mix of cologne and something medicinal that made her stomach turn.The scent triggered something in her memory, something important, but terror drove the thought away before it could fully form.

"If you scream," his voice was surprisingly soft, almost gentle, "I'll kill you right here."The words fell into the space between them like stones into still water, creating ripples of fear that spread through her entire body.

Jennifer's hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white."Please," she whispered, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears, "I have a son—"

Pain exploded across the back of her head as something—the gun?—struck her.Stars danced at the edges of her vision as she let out a small, panicked shout."Drive!"the man snapped, all gentleness gone from his voice.

Tears blurred her vision as she started the car.Her entire body was trembling now, making it difficult to guide the car out of the parking space.She tried to catch a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror, but he leaned forward, the side of his head appearing at her shoulder.The gun pressed into her seat, right against her spine, the pressure a constant reminder of her mortality.

"Where..."her voice cracked.She swallowed and tried again, tasting salt from her tears."Where do you want me to go?"

"Oh, you just follow my directions."His breath was warm against her ear, making her skin crawl."Follow my directions and this will all be over soon."

Over soon.The words sent ice through her veins.Jennifer's mind raced, trying to remember everything she'd ever heard about surviving an abduction.Stay calm.Look for opportunities.Make yourself human to them.But as she guided the car toward the garage exit, another thought kept intruding: Mrs.Peterson would only wait so long before calling someone.How long before they realized something was wrong?How long before Joseph started asking for Mommy?

She thought of the last time she'd seen him this morning, still in his Spider-Man pajamas, maple syrup from breakfast sticky on his chin as the babysitter showed up."Love you to the moon and back," he'd said, their traditional goodbye.Had she said it back?She couldn't remember now, and the possibility that those might have been their last words to each other made her chest ache with a pain far worse than any physical blow.

"Left," the man said as they approached the exit."And Jennifer?"She flinched at the use of her name."Remember—I'm watching every move you make.Don't try to be clever."

Jennifer turned left, her hands shaking on the wheel.A prayer formed on her lips, silent but desperate:Lord, please.Not like this.Joseph needs his mother.Please, Lord, please...

But the gun remained pressed against her spine, and the man's breathing remained steady beside her ear, and the early dark of night spread out before them like an ocean she might never return from.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Rachel’s second wind had kicked in about an hour ago and she could feel the nervous energy of it thrumming through her body as she listened to the phone ring in her ear.The small office felt even more cramped, with Novak pacing behind her.He was also on the phone, his low voice mixing with the gentle hum of the precinct's ancient air conditioning system as he spoke with Director Anderson.Rachel heard some of the conversation as she waited for the line in her ear to be answered—currently on the third ring.

"Yes, sir.Full surveillance on both locations," Novak was saying."If he follows the pattern, Harrison's office and residence are our best shot at catching our killer the act.Yes, that’s right…correct.I don’t see why we’d need more than one unit for each location."

Rachel stopped listening in as the line was finally picked up on the other end of her call.Tanya Beswick’s voice came through, slightly breathless."Hello?"

"Mrs.Mitchell, this is Agent Gift.I need to ask you about Michael—Nathan's brother.Do you have his contact information?"

"Oh, yes, somewhere..."There was a rustling sound on the other end.She sounded just as baffled as she had the first time they’d spoken, asking her about Nathan."We don't exactly keep it on the fridge or anything,” Tanya was saying as she started moving around.“He's been...well, distant isn't really the word.Ever since this whole terrible situation with poor Marjorie started..."

Rachel leaned forward in her chair."He's living in France, correct?"

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