Page 14 of Her Last Warning
"Naturally," Rachel said.As they made their way to the exit, Walsh's heels clicking softly behind them, Rachel noticed a small plaque partially hidden behind the reception desk.It was older than the other awards, its brass slightly tarnished.The inscription mentioned Walsh's groundbreaking work with terminal patients in the early days of her career.
"One last question," Rachel said, pausing at the door."In your experience with terminal cases that reversed – was there ever any pattern to who recovered and who didn't?Any commonality among the survivors?"
Walsh's hand hesitated on the door handle.For the first time, her composure wavered slightly."That's the cruelest part of it all, isn't it?"she said softly."There is no pattern.No rhyme or reason to who lives and who dies.Sometimes..."She trailed off, then seemed to catch herself.Her professional demeanor snapped back into place."Sometimes the randomness of it all is the hardest thing for people to accept."
Rachel nodded, said “thank you” once again, and then stepped out into the gathering night.
The door clicked shut behind them with a finality that seemed too loud in the darkness.
"A third victim?"Novak asked quietly, having put the pieces together.
Rachel nodded."Yeah.A third victim.."She ran a hand through her hair, frustration evident in the gesture."But something about this isn't adding up.Walsh's reaction was..."
"Too perfect?"Novak suggested as they approached their car.
"Maybe."Rachel watched the floor numbers tick down."Or maybe I’m looking so hard for connections that we're starting to see them everywhere.I know why Anderson wanted me on this…because he knew the connection to what I’ve been through would make me more determined.But I…”
“What?You can tell me, Gift.”
“But I wonder if that connection has me jumping at every possible shadow."She sighed as she got into the passenger seat and said, "Either way, we've got another crime scene to process.And I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The row of townhouses sat flat against the darkening sky, their identical shapes and features creating a stark geometry of shadows and angles in the fading light.Rachel pulled the car into a vacant spot in front of the unit in question—the home belonging to Michelle Lester.Two patrol cars were already positioned at awkward angles near the entrance, their presence marking this ordinary home as something else entirely.
A uniformed officer was stretching yellow crime scene tape across the concrete stairs as Rachel and Novak approached.His movements were mechanical and practiced as he secured it to the thin black railings.The metal posts seemed to almost glisten in the dark, their paint chipped and weathered from years of hands sliding across their surface.Rachel flashed her badge without breaking stride, ducking under the tape as Sergeant Lane appeared in the doorway ahead of her.
She didn't waste time with greetings."Where's the body?"
Lane gestured for them to follow, leading them through a living room that immediately caught Rachel's attention.Unlike the previous scenes, this one spoke of resistance, of desperate moments that had turned violent.A leather armchair sat crooked and pushed back from its usual position, marked by the deep indentations in the carpet.A single framed portrait had fallen from a shelf against the wall to the right.The space was small to the point of being nearly cramped, a lot of it taken up by the TV and bookcase.
The kitchen told an even more chaotic story.Papers and mail lay strewn across the linoleum as if caught in a windstorm, their edges curled and bent where feet had trampled them.A wooden chair lay on its side, though was somehow still partially tucked beneath the table.The overhead lights cast harsh shadows across the disorder, creating dark pockets in corners where secrets might hide.
And there, in the threshold between kitchen and a small hallway that led to the laundry room and powder room, lay Michelle Lester.
Rachel crouched beside the body, her eyes drawn to the victim's neck.The bruising told its own story – fresh, purple-black marks that hadn't had time to fade or settle.The skin around them still held a pinkish hue that spoke of very recent death, perhaps only hours old.These weren't the marks of rope or wire, but of carefully gloved hands…just like the other scenes.The placement suggested someone strong, someone who knew exactly how much pressure to apply.
"What do we know about her?"Rachel asked, not taking her eyes off the victim.
Lane shifted his weight, the floorboards creaking beneath him."A friend of hers found her like this.Confirmed Michelle had recently beaten some kind of serious neurological condition.Doctors had written her off, apparently, but she recovered with pretty much no reasonable explanation a month or so ago.The friend's pretty shaken up, but she's outside in one of the patrol cars if you want to talk to her."
Rachel nodded, then asked the question she already knew the answer to."Was there another note?"
"On the fridge," Lane replied, gesturing toward the stainless-steel surface.The killer had used a magnet of a kitten wearing a sombrero to hold up his latest letter.Thick black letters spelled out their message in marker: FATE CHOOSES WHO DESERVES TO LIVE.
The words hung in the air like a challenge.Rachel stood slowly, her knees protesting the movement."We need to talk to the friend."
“Follow me,” Lane said, his voice tired and a bit haggard.
Outside, the evening had settled fully around them, street lights casting orange pools across the pavement.Lane led them to the nearest patrol car and opened the passenger door.A young woman sat inside, her makeup streaked with tears, hands clutching a crumpled tissue.
"This is Lacey," Lane said quietly."Lacey, these are Agents Gift and Novak, with the FBI."
Rachel leaned down slightly, keeping her voice gentle but firm."Lacey, I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you some questions.It could help us find who did this to Michelle.Would that be okay?"
Lacey nodded, sniffling.Her fingers worked the tissue into smaller and smaller pieces.
"How well did you know Michelle?"Rachel asked.
