Page 16 of Her Last Promise

"The one you stayed up until midnight working on last week because you put it off until the last minute?”

“Yeah, that one,” she said quickly.“Anyway, Mrs.Henderson – she's been really encouraging about my writing all year, you know?– anyway, she submitted it to this statewide history competition, and..."Paige's smile widened until it seemed to illuminate her whole face."It got selected as one of the finalists!"

"That's fantastic!"Rachel reached across the table to squeeze her daughter's hand, her own fatigue forgotten in the face of Paige's excitement."When do you find out about the winners?"

"Two weeks.But even if I don't win, just being a finalist means my paper might be published in their annual journal."Paige's cheeks flushed with pride, and for a moment, Rachel saw the echo of the little girl who used to run home from school clutching art projects and spelling tests, desperate to share her achievements.“I…uh…”

“What is it?”Rachel asked.

With a slight frown, she looked almost guiltily to her and Jack and said, “It made me think of dad.You know…big history nerd and all.He would have loved it, right?”

The mention of Peter didn't sting as much as it once had.Time had smoothed those jagged edges, transformed the sharp pain of loss into something more bittersweet.And Jack handled it wonderfully, as he always did.He understood that Peter needed to be remembered and discussed.He usually remained quiet unless he was asked something specifically.

"He absolutely would have.He'd probably be printing copies for everyone at his office right now, boring them all with detailed explanations of Thomas Jefferson's negotiation tactics."

"And insisting on a frame for the first page," Jack added softly, his hand finding Rachel's under the table.These moments could still be delicate, this careful dance of honoring Peter's memory while embracing their new family configuration.

Jack cleared his throat."Well, I say this calls for ice cream.We still have some of that mint chocolate chip, right?The good kind, with the actual chocolate pieces?"

But Paige was already pushing back from the table, gathering her plate."Rain check?I want to grab a shower before tackling my English homework.Mr.Peterson's tests are brutal if you're not completely prepared."

“Of course.Any time is a good time for ice cream.”

“Preach, brother,” Paige said, offering him a high five.He took it, their hands slapping together as they laughed about whatever inside joke they had between them.Rachel wondered if Paige was simply disappearing upstairs because she feared she’d made things awkward by mentioning her father.

After Paige disappeared upstairs, Rachel and Jack fell into their familiar cleanup routine.She washed while he dried, their movements synchronized by years of partnership.The comfortable silence was broken only by the soft clink of dishes and the distant sound of the shower starting upstairs.

"I need to review some files tonight," she said, passing him a sudsy plate."The Judge Smith case."

Jack's expression darkened slightly."Yeah, I caught wind of that at a meeting this morning.How's that going?"

"Slowly.Too slowly."She described the details they'd uncovered, the frustrating lack of physical evidence, the literal ocean of files to go through, growing sense that they were missing something crucial."It's like trying to put together a puzzle where half the pieces are invisible.We know they're there, we just can't see them yet.And I’m afraid there are more boxes with even more pieces that we haven’t even found yet."

"God, I don't miss that part."Jack stacked the last plate in the cabinet with perhaps more force than necessary."Though some days I'd take it over another budget meeting.You know what Thompson called me yesterday?A 'process optimization specialist.'"He affected a pompous tone that made Rachel laugh despite the weight of her earlier thoughts.

"Poor corporate stooge," she teased, flicking water at him."How the mighty have fallen."

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm very important.I have color-coded spreadsheets and everything."

Once the dishes were done, they settled at opposite ends of the dinner table with their respective work.It was becoming almost a common occurrence.Rachel spread out photos of Judge Smith’s arm and files on Judge Smith cases while Jack opened his laptop to go over some last-minute details on future staffing needs at the bureau.The quiet was comfortable, broken only by the soft tapping of his keyboard and the rustle of paper as she turned pages.Every now and then, she'd catch him watching her with a slight smile, and she'd feel that familiar warmth in her chest – the one that still surprised her sometimes, this second chance at happiness she'd never expected to find.

The information on all of Judge Smith’s rulings did indeed feel like a puzzle as she worked, each detail a potential key to unlocking the larger mystery.Her notes filled page after page, but something still felt off, just beyond her grasp.Like a word on the tip of her tongue, refusing to fully form.

By 10:30, her eyes were burning from strain, the words beginning to blur together.She gathered her files, trying to ignore the way Judge Smith's face seemed to watch her from the photos.The victims always watched, in her experience.Even from paper, they demanded answers, justice, resolution.She also thought of his poor wife, so destroyed by the loss of her husband that she’d been unable to speak with anyone at the hospital out of fear of a cardiac event of some kind.

Upstairs, she found Paige in the bathroom, brushing her teeth.Her daughter's hair was still damp from her shower, and she was wearing her oldest, most comfortable pajamas – the ones with the faded stars that she refused to throw away.

"Night, sweetheart."Rachel kissed her daughter's temple, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo."I'm really proud of you, you know that?"

“Thanks.”And for a moment, Rachel caught a glimpse of the same smile Paige had once flashed as a younger child, always seeking attention and approval.

In her bedroom, as she changed into her pajamas, thoughts of Scarlett crept in unbidden.Private thoughts like those tended to come around much easier—almost like comforting ghosts.But this time, they brought Cody Austin's face with them – that bland, forgettable face that had haunted her for years.The kind of face that could disappear into any crowd, that no witness would remember clearly enough to describe.She almost went back downstairs to tell Jack about her suspicions, but stopped herself.It would sound paranoid, wouldn't it?Seeing connections where there might not be any, letting old ghosts color her judgment.Besides, she had no proof.Just that nagging feeling in her gut, the one that had kept her alive all these years.

Jack came to bed just as she was turning out the light.He slid close behind her, his hand finding her hip."Any chance..."

"Mm, sleep mode already activated," she murmured, but smiled into the darkness.The warmth of his body against hers was comforting, familiar."Ask me again in the morning."

"I'll hold you to that."

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