Page 3 of Her Last Warning
CHAPTER TWO
Her alarm sliced through sleep at 6:15 AM, its digital chirp somehow more offensive than usual.Rachel was already moving before consciousness fully took hold, muscle memory carrying her out of bed while her mind churned over the decision she'd finally reached during the night.
Jack's suggestion from the evening before made sense: take it to Anderson.Let other agents investigate.Watch from the sidelines.The logical choice.The safe choice.She knew she tended to be a control freak, but she would just have to learn to rein it for now.The Jack of hearts playing card, as well as Scarlett's obituary and the newspaper clipping about the hospice bombing, were currently stuffed into her computer bag, which she would take to work.And having them there out of sight with this plan in place, did make her feel a bit better.
In the bathroom, Rachel worked the toothbrush mechanically while studying her reflection.She began to feel a slight sense of unease in her stomach as she thought ahead to the conversation with Anderson.She was surprised to find that she wasn't all that worried that he would pass the case off to someone else; that was a given, as far as she was concerned.She was more worried that he may judge her for sitting on it for so long.Yes, he'd understand the personal connection and the doubts that came with it, but he was, at the end of the day, a director for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
She did her best to shake the unease off as she headed out of the bathroom.As she made her way across the bedroom to get dressed, her phone buzzed from the nightstand.She walked over to it and saw Novak's name lighting up the screen.
She answered it as calmly as she could.“Good morning, Novak,” she answered.
"Rachel."Novak's voice carried an edge she rarely heard from him.And, quite unlike Novak, he got straight to the point."We've got a new case.They asked for us specifically.Well, foryouspecifically."
"Novak, I can't.Not today."Her thoughts were on the meeting she wanted to have with Anderson, on what might come of it."I need to—"
"Anderson wants us both at the field office within the hour.Look, I don't have all the details yet – I just happened to get in early.But Rachel..."He paused, and she could hear the weight in that silence."I think you're going to want this one."
Something in his tone made her pause.She debated it internally for just a few seconds and made her decision, once again putting her own personal issues aside."Give me thirty minutes."
She dressed with practiced efficiency – black pantsuit, white blouse, holster carefully adjusted.The house was coming alive around her, the sounds of Jack and Paige's morning routine drifting up the stairs.The normalcy of it made her throat tight.
When Rachel arrived in the kitchen, she found Paige seated at the island, spoon clinking against her cereal bowl as she scrolled through her phone.At twelve, she was already showing hints of the woman she'd become – her father's determined chin, Rachel's own analytical gaze.
Jack stood at the coffee maker, two travel mugs ready.He gave her an inquisitive look, already able to tell that something urgent was pushing her.
"Can you take Paige to school?"Rachel asked, accepting the coffee he offered.The familiar morning choreography felt suddenly precious, fragile.
"Of course."Jack's smile was easy, but she could see the awareness in his eyes.They'd both learned the hard way that normal moments could shatter in an instant.“Is everything okay?”
“Just an urgent case that Anderson specifically wants me on.There’s a briefing in an hour.”
“Then get out of here already!We’ll be good.Go catch the bad guys."
Rachel set down her coffee, moved to Paige's side.Her daughter's hair smelled of strawberry shampoo as Rachel hugged her, pressed a kiss to the top of her head."Have a good day, sweetheart.I’m sorry.”
Paige shrugged.“It’s no biggie.It must be super important for you to be rushing around like this.Like Jack said…go get those bad guys.”
For just a moment, Rachel saw the younger version of Paige…the eight- or nine-year-old version who had once looked to her like as a hero.It warmed her heart and made her even more anxious to get to the office to hear about this case.She kissed Paige on the cheek and hurried out.
At the door, Rachel turned back.Jack stood watching her, his FBI badge already clipped to his belt for another day behind a desk.She crossed to him in three quick steps, rose on her toes to kiss him."Please," she whispered against his mouth."Just be careful."
His fingers brushed her cheek."I told you...I'm being very cautious."He stepped back, gestured toward the door."Now go."
The morning air hit her face like a wake-up call as she walked to her car.The playing card and clippings lay in her bag, a weight against her hip.She still thought maybe there was a chance she could hand it all over to Anderson today.But Novak's words echoed in her mind:I think you're going to want this one.
* * *
The field office conference room held the particular stillness of early morning, when the building was still shaking off its nighttime quiet.Rachel had always loved this hour before the rush of agents and support staff filled the halls…even though she’d not experienced it much in the past year or so.She was already stretching herself a bit by resuming a full schedule.Coming in early simply wasn’t in the cards.The coffee maker in the corner burbled softly, its rich aroma mixing with the ghost-scents of yesterday's pastries and the perpetual undertone of printer ink that seemed embedded in the walls.
Novak stood at the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the pale morning light.Anderson sat at the head of the conference table, case files spread before him like a complicated game of solitaire.The sight of just the three of them – her partner, her director, and herself – created a strange bubble of intimacy that made Rachel's shoulders relax fractionally.Here, in this room with these two men she trusted, the weight of the playing card in her bag seemed less oppressive.
"Thank you for coming in early," Anderson said, his voice carrying that particular gravity she'd learned to recognize over the years.It wasn’t necessarily a “bad news” voice, but there a great deal of urgency behind it."We need to move quickly on this one."
Rachel took her usual seat, noting the tension in Anderson's posture.He hadn't looked up from the files yet, which meant he was steeling himself.Her stomach tightened.
"The victim is Marcy Connors," Anderson continued."Fifty-two years old.Killed in her home last night."He paused, finally meeting Rachel's eyes."She had just beaten Stage Four cancer."
The words hit like a physical blow.Rachel's coffee cup froze halfway to her mouth, the ceramic suddenly cold against her fingers.The conference room tilted slightly, reality shifting on its axis as past and present collided.She could smell antiseptic, feel the ghost-weight of IV lines in her arm.
