Page 15 of Her Last Warning
"She was my best…best friend."Lacey's voice was barely above a whisper."We’ve known each other since college.We went to VCU together.Were roommates for a while after graduation too."
"Does she have any family in the area?"
"Not in the area, no.In terms of family, there’s just her mom, but they don't really talk.She's in Ohio anyway.Her dad…he died when she was young.Car accident, I think."Lacey's eyes darted between Rachel and Novak, as if searching for something in their expressions.
Novak stepped forward slightly."How long ago did you find her?"
"About an hour and a half."Fresh tears welled up in Lacey's eyes."We spent the whole afternoon together, shopping, snacking…celebrating her recovery.Not that it matters now.She beat these impossible odds and then…now she's dead anyway and—" Her voice broke, dissolving into quiet sobs.
Rachel waited a moment before pressing on, doing her best to be both respectful and professional at the same time."When you were out today, did you notice anyone following you?Anyone who seemed particularly interested in Michelle, or maybe tried to talk to her?"
Lacey shook her head, wiping at her eyes."No, nothing like that.It was just a normal day.We were having fun, you know?Making plans...I don’t remember anything weird or…no, nothing like that.”
"What brought you back to her house tonight?"Novak asked.
"We were supposed to go out."Lacey's voice grew stronger for a moment, anger threading through the grief."Dancing, maybe hit a few bars, chat up some guys.Just be normal people for once.After everything she'd been through with her condition...she deserved that much."
"Was anyone else here when you arrived?"Rachel watched Lacey's face carefully.
"No.Nobody."
"Was the door was unlocked?"
"Yeah, but that wasn't weird,” she answered, wiping a few tears away.We'd texted earlier, and she said she'd leave it open since she'd be getting ready in the bathroom."Lacey's composure crumbled again."If I'd just gotten here sooner..."
Rachel placed a gentle hand on the car door."You couldn't have known, Lacey.You've been very helpful.If you think of anything else, even something that seems small, please call us."She handed Lacey her card, knowing the younger woman probably wouldn't even look at it until tomorrow.
As they walked back toward the house, Rachel's mind returned to the scene inside.The scattered papers, the overturned furniture, the broken picture frame – Michelle had fought back.Unlike the other victims, she'd sensed the danger and tried to survive.That could mean mistakes on the killer's part.Evidence left behind in the struggle.Maybe he was getting sloppy.
Rachel ducked under the crime scene tape again, her eyes already adjusting to find new angles, new shadows to explore.Michelle Lester had fought for her life.Maybe in doing so, she'd left them a breadcrumb trail to follow.
The kitchen looked different now, knowing what had happened here.Rachel could almost see the sequence of events – Michelle, probably getting ready upstairs when someone arrived.The killer must have seemed harmless enough for her to let them in, or maybe they had simply taken advantage of the unlocked front door.
She would have tried to run first.The overturned chair suggested she'd pushed it behind her, trying to create an obstacle.The scattered papers might have been grabbed and thrown as a distraction.The path of destruction led toward the front door – she'd almost made it.The broken picture frame in the living room marked where she'd been caught, probably thrown against the wall.
And then the final moments, there between kitchen and bathroom.Had she been trying to barricade herself in the powder room?Or had she simply run out of places to run?
Rachel moved through the space slowly, cataloging every detail.The killer was escalating, getting bolder or maybe more desperate.Michelle's resistance might have pushed them off script, forced them to improvise.And people made mistakes when they improvised.
She stepped closer to the refrigerator, studying the note again.The same thick black marker, the same forceful strokes.But something about the placement felt different this time.Less ceremonial, more rushed.Like an afterthought rather than a ritual.It was almostcasual.
The killer seemed to be changing their pattern in small ways.Rachel wasn't sure if that made them more or less dangerous, but she knew one thing for certain – change meant vulnerability.And vulnerability was exactly what they needed to catch this monster before they struck again.
As she stood there in Michelle Lester's kitchen, Sergeant Lane came up to her.Behind them, Novak was canvassing the living room.
“Anything I can do for you, agent?”Lane asked her.
"Yes, actually.Can you get someone to make sure Agent Novak and I get everything on Michelle Lester's recovery?Medical records, doctors, support groups – anything that might connect her to our other victims.Someone chose her for a reason, and I want to know why."
The sergeant nodded, already pulling out his phone to make the necessary calls.Rachel turned back to the crime scene, letting the details wash over her again.Somewhere in this chaos of overturned furniture and scattered papers lay the truth they needed.She just had to find it.
The sound of cameras clicking behind her told her the crime scene unit had arrived.Soon, this place would be crawling with technicians, each one hunting for their own piece of the puzzle.Rachel took one last look around, committing every detail to memory.For now, it was back to the painstaking work of connecting dots, following leads, hunting down every possible connection between Michelle and the other victims.
And they had to do it all while also knowing full well that the killer remained at large.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The windows of her house glowed like a beacon in the darkness as Rachel pulled into her driveway at 9:05.Her eyes burned from hours of squinting at evidence markers while forensics combed through Michelle Lester's house.All they had to show for it was a partial footprint in the strip of grass out front—a Nike, size uncertain.The kind of clue that could mean everything or absolutely nothing.The forensics team had spent hours photographing it from every angle, making plaster casts, measuring the depth of the impression.But Rachel already felt that they were grasping at straws.
