Page 25 of Her Last Warning
Rachel had already separated Walsh’s notes, placing half of the pile on Novak’s side of the table and half in front of her.Despite its worn appearance, the contents were meticulously organized.Walsh's handwriting was unexpectedly precise – each letter formed with careful intention, as if she knew someone else would need to read them later.This was equally impressive, given that Rachel had watched just how fast the woman had been jotting down notes back at the support group meeting.
"Look at this," Rachel said, wiping her hands before touching the pages."She's developed her own shorthand system.See how she marks different emotional states?Little symbols in the margins – triangles for anger, circles for grief, squares for hope."
Novak leaned over, a string of cheese dangling from his slice."Efficient.Makes it easy to track emotional patterns across sessions."
Rachel's phone buzzed just as she felt she was getting into something of a flow.It was an email notification from her bureau address—a mail from the coroner.She opened it and read the brief message, not even bothering with the attachments that had been included.The one-paragraph email confirmed what they'd suspected about Marcy Connors and Robert Hayes: both had died of strangulation.She read it aloud to Novak, her appetite diminishing slightly as she described the extensive bruising found on Marcy's trachea.
"Hell of a thing to be reading while eating lunch," Novak commented, but still held a slice of pepperoni and bacon in his hand.
The pages of Walsh’s notes were now spread across the table like a paper tablecloth.Rachel found herself drawn into the doctor's observations, each entry revealing the complex emotional landscape of her support group.
June 15: Group dynamic shifted today.Man of 50 or so shared news of tumor reduction.Observed mix of genuine joy and underlying tension from others.Blonde woman of 35 or so (stage 4 pancreatic) left room briefly.Note: Address survivor's guilt in next session.
July 2: Discussion of hope vs.acceptance.The mother broke down describing her daughter's recovery.Others showed signs of emotional conflict – happy for her success while processing their own situations.Key theme: The cruelty of randomness in healing.The heated conversation got nearly religious in nature.Blaming God?Is there a God and if there is, is he just playing dice with our lives, etc?
August 10: Group exploring concept of "deserving" to survive.Powerful session.Multiple members expressed guilt over outliving others with similar diagnoses.61 y/o African American man (remission 3 months) questioned why he survived when his brother didn't.Consider dedicating future session to this topic in regard to family/sibling dynamic.
Then Rachel found one of the passages she’d mentioned where she had actually spoken to one of the participants.She had labeled itShook, David.She had surrounded the account with a thick black box she had drawn with multiple passes of her pen, as if emphasizing its importance:
October 12: Individual consultation with David Shook (47).History: Diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis 18 months ago.Given 6-8 months.Remarkable recovery following experimental treatment at Riverside Medical.Shows signs of survival trauma – expressed feeling "haunted" by recovery.Quote: "Sometimes I wake up thinking it was all a mistake that they'll call and say they mixed up the scans."Regular attendee for 14 months.Leadership qualities.Others look to him for hope.
In the margins, dated January 11:David Shook no longer attending.Called to check in – no response.Consider follow-up.
Rachel's eyes narrowed at the notes.She glanced at the pizza slice cooling on her plate, her mind already racing ahead.The pattern was there – survivors, all of them defying terminal diagnoses.Each one is a statistical anomaly, a miracle that shouldn't have happened.
"Novak," she said, tapping the boxed entry."This guy, David Shook, fits the profile of our victims.Terminal diagnosis, unexpected recovery, recently stopped attending meetings.And look at the timing – he drops out of sight just before our first victim turns up dead."
"You thinking he's our next target?"Novak was already reaching for his phone.
"Or he's already been targeted and we don't know it yet."Rachel found herself studying Walsh's notes about Shook more carefully now.The doctor had included additional details in subsequent entries:
October 19: Follow-up with D.S.Discussed survivor's isolation.Lives alone since wife's death (2019).Adult children in Seattle and Boston.Limited local support system.Mentioned wanting to move closer to kids but feels "trapped" by medical history/ongoing care needs.
*November 2: D.S.showing signs of improvement in outlook.Discussing future plans.Considering online coursework in digital art – hobby from before diagnosis.First time seeing him engage with long-term future plans.
November 30: D.S.absent today.Unusual – typically calls if missing session.
Rachel felt the familiar tingle of intuition, the sense that they were finally getting ahead of their killer instead of following in their wake.She could see that Novak felt it too – he was already pulling up databases on the iPad, probably searching for Shook's address.
The pizzeria had grown busier around them, the lunch crowd filtering in.The smell of garlic and tomatoes hung heavy in the air, mixing with the sound of conversations and the clatter of plates.A man in his early twenties behind the counter called out order numbers in a bored monotone.
"We need to move on this," Rachel said, already gathering the notes."How quickly can we get a list of similar cases?People who've beaten terminal diagnoses in the Richmond area?"
"That's a heavy lift with medical privacy laws," Novak warned."Could take days to get the proper clearances."
"We don't have days."Rachel's mind was already racing ahead, formulating a plan.The answer was here, in Walsh's careful notes.David Shook wasn't just a potential victim – he was their key to finding others.Support groups, medical centers, social media survival stories...there were threads to pull, if they moved quickly enough.And plus, there were supposedly at least a few other names in these notes, according to Walsh.
As she sped through the notes, looking for more entries like the one on David Shook, a plan was taking shape in her mind, but she kept it there for now.But much to her chagrin, she saw nothing else similar.She even grabbed Novak's notes as he searched for information on Shook.There were a few more of those boxed-in entries—three more, to be exact.One of them only gave the initials of the person Walsh had spoken with.Others gave just a first name.She supposed if it came down to it and this plan she was currently formulating played out, they could reach out to Walsh again to see if she recalled these people’s full names.
Finally, being able to plan ahead sent a bit of relief racing through Rachel.The killer had a pattern, and for the first time, Rachel felt like they might be able to get ahead of it.
She looked down at Walsh's notes one last time before sliding them into her bag.The doctor's precise handwriting seemed to take on new urgency now.Every word in those notes spoke of someone’s struggle against the very things that were trying to kill them.Some of the people alluded to in the notes may already be dead by natural causes.But to know some of the people that were referenced without name—just an age or basic description—could very well be about their victims or others the killer had in their sights was chilling.And it had Rachel sliding out of the booth and toward the door with a speed borne out of a very simple plan still working itself in her mind.A plan that, if they played it right, might just help them catch a killer and close this case.
Walsh's notes felt heavy in her bag, filled with the stories of survivors – some of whom were now victims.She was determined not to let David Shook become another entry in that tragic list.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Whenever Rachel visited The Fan District, she always felt like she was visiting Richmond for the first time.Its storied past, its tree-lined streets and portions of cobblestone pavement made it feel as if someone had somehow sewn in a reminder of the past, right in the heart of the city.As she and Novak made their way to the home of David Shook, she looked out of the passenger window, taking in the winter-stripped trees, creating an eerie, skeletal canopy over the streets.Bare branches reached toward a steel-gray sky, their shadows casting delicate patterns across the mixture of asphalt and cobblestone below.She pressed her forehead against the passenger window, watching the historic row houses slip past as her partner navigated the notoriously narrow streets.
