Page 27 of Her Last Warning
"I should mention," Rachel added, "this is still just a theory.We're working several angles, and this may not pan out.But we'd rather err on the side of caution.Not just for your safety, but in the hopes that we can stop whoever is responsible for these murders."
"The surveillance team will be discreet," Novak explained."They'll coordinate shifts to ensure continuous coverage.If you notice anything suspicious – unusual vehicles, unexpected deliveries, anyone who seems out of place – you can contact us immediately."She pulled out a business card and wrote her cell number on the back."Day or night."
"What about my doctor's appointment tomorrow?"David asked."I have a follow-up at two."
"We'll have someone follow you there and back," Novak assured him."Just go about your normal routine.The important thing is to not let this disrupt your life more than necessary."
"Thank you," David said, standing as they did, all three sensing that they had come to the end of the conversation."I appreciate the warning – and the protection."He followed them to the door, his earlier ease replaced by a wariness that made Rachel's heart ache.Another life disrupted by their unseen killer.
As they walked back to their vehicle, Rachel's mind was already racing through next steps.The theory felt right – support groups as hunting grounds made sense – but something was still missing.The killer's methodology and knowledge about recoveries could indicate someone familiar with the medical system, someone who could track these miraculous recoveries and identify potential victims in a less intrusive way.
"I'll call Richmond PD and start coordinating a surveillance setup," Novak replied, checking his phone.“But I really think we should stick around until they arrive.”
Rachel nodded, scanning the street.The winter sun had risen higher, casting sharp shadows across the cobblestones.A few residents walked past with dogs or coffee cups, some nodding politely at the agents.The normality of the scene made the danger lurking beneath it feel even more sinister.And something about that brought an alarming thought to mind.She was actually a little disappointed that she hadn’t thought it before.
"You know what bothers me?"Rachel said finally, breaking the silence."This killer…they’re not only targeting people who've already faced death and won.It's like they're trying to correct what they see as a mistake."
Novak glanced at her."You think that's the motivation?Some twisted sense of setting things right?"
"Maybe," Rachel mused, as she opened her door and slid into the passenger seat."Or maybe they're angry that these people got second chances when someone else didn't."
As Novak got into the car, already on the phone with a representative of the Richmond Police Department, Rachel saw David watching from his window, the morning sun casting his face in sharp relief.He lifted a hand in acknowledgment, and Rachel returned the gesture, hoping they'd acted in time to prevent another tragedy…and that there might be paydirt to this theory.Because if not, all they had done was find another way to waste time while the killer was out there, lurking and planning his next steps.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The rain that had been threatening all morning and well into the afternoon finally started to fall just shy of 2:30.It was nothing more than a lazy drizzle, but it made the gloomy weather even more daunting…the sort of rain that made it feel as if the temperature had dropped a full ten degrees.Rachel looked out of the window to David Shook's house half a block away.It had only been fifteen minutes since they’d returned to the car, but she was already being reminded of why she had always hated stakeouts and surveillance detail.
Novak shifted in the passenger seat beside her, checking his phone for what must have been the hundredth time in the past hour.The silence between them had grown comfortable over their partnership, but there was still an underlying tension—the ghost of her former partnership with Jack that neither of them acknowledged.
Twenty minutes crawled by before an unmarked black sedan appeared at the end of the street, moving with the deliberate slowness that only law enforcement could manage without looking suspicious.As it approached their position, Rachel recognized the government-issue vehicle, noting how it perfectly straddled the line between inconspicuous and authoritative.She and Jack had always joked how undercover cars really needed to be moreundercover.It was especially true of federal vehicles; criminals with a keen eye could spot a bureau-issued sedan a mile away.
This particular undercover police sedan pulled alongside their parking spot, nearly coming to a complete stop in the street.The passenger—a plainclothes officer—flashed his badge through the window with practiced efficiency.Rachel and Novak exchanged quick nods with their replacements, the universal language of law enforcement surveillance trading hands.
"Okay, so what now?"Novak asked, his hand already on the gearshift and ready to pull away from the curb."I hate to sound defeatist, but I'm not sure we have any other moves for right now."
Rachel kept her eyes on the road ahead, but her mind was already several steps forward."I've been thinking about our approach," she said."It’s not the most exciting work, but maybe there’s more we could be doing.We've checked their social media feeds, but we're missing something bigger.These victims—they're all people who've beaten impossible odds.Where do people like that go to share their stories?"
"You mean besides Facebook?"
"Exactly.Think about it—if you've just received a so-called miracle, you might hesitate to post about it on your main social media.You don't want to seem insensitive to others still fighting their battles.And you'd maybe even avoid the support groups that have been such a huge blessing for you.You don’t want to come off like you’re rubbing it in everyone’s face.But there must be communities out there, support groups, specialized forums where people can celebrate without feeling guilty."She sighed and added, “I feel sort of dumb for not thinking of it earlier.”
Novak's eyes lit up with understanding."And if someone had a grudge against these survivors..."
"Those groups would be the perfect hunting ground," Rachel finished."They're actively advertising their recoveries, sharing personal details, probably even meeting information."
"The killer wouldn't even need to work hard to find targets," Novak mused, nodding along."They'd be self-selecting.Each post would be like raising their hand, saying 'Here I am.'"
"And think about the psychology of it," Rachel continued, warming to the theory."If our killer is motivated by anger at these survivors he thinks might be undeserving, these groups would be like a catalog of targets.Each success story might feel like a personal affront."
Rachel was already reaching for the iPad—not quite sure of how to get started but now more than familiar with the user interfaces of nearly every social media platform due to research just like this.She wasn’t all that surprised when it only took a few different search terms to get her to where she needed to be.
"I'm finding dozens of these groups already,” she said as she looked over the search results.“There’s a Miracle Survivors Network, and another one called Life Beyond the Diagnosis.And it looks like some of these things have thousands of members…online, anyway.It would be hard to get an accurate number for local groups."
Novak removed his phone from the center console to help in the search.As he typed in the names of one of the groups, he said, "Maybe we can run some sort of search to see if any of our victims were members of these groups."He then chuckled, shaking his head.
“What?”Rachel asked.“What’s funny?”
"You know," he said, regaining his balance with a slight smile, "if I'd known the vast majority of my FBI caseload would involve scrolling through social media, I might have stuck with my dream of being a comic book artist."
