Her Last Breath, page 2
She stopped just a few feet away from the panel box as the reality of this settled in. Someone has been here. Someone may still be here…
Slowly, she made a small circle, taking in the garage. She turned her phone over in her hands, intending to call the police. but as she turned to the right, she saw another door that had been opened. This was the thin door against the back wall, the door that opened up onto the space that held the water heater. And just as she realized this door was open, she saw the figure come rushing out of it.
Emma didn’t even have time to scream before the figure was on her. Her flashlight shined on the shape for just a moment, long enough for her to see the features of a man with dark hair. But that was all she saw before a hard punch landed in her stomach. The wind went rushing out of her and as she fell to her knees, she was caught. The man grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over towards the panel box.
She opened her mouth to scream but the man seemed to sense this. To stop her, he threw her hard against the wall. The side of her face slammed into it and, again, more breath was knocked out of her. As she fought for breath, she felt him grabbing her head again. He seemed to be pointing her face towards the panel box, as if he wanted her to see something.
She could just barely see one other thing she’d somehow missed: the cover to the box had been removed. She could see the inner workings behind the metal plate that was usually there, the wires, leads, and circuity barely visible in the darkness. She had no idea where her phone was, maybe somewhere back on the floor, but she could still make out the faintest little glow from her flashlight and—
She managed to cry out briefly as the man pulled her by the hair again. Her head felt as if it had been lit on fire, but she only felt it for a moment. He forced her head directly into the exposed panel box. She could feel her nose crunching up and she was pretty sure one of her front teeth was obliterated. But she felt none of it.
What she did feel was a sudden shock that seemed to both push her away and draw her close all at once. Her body shook as the garage lights flickered on and off. but those lights seemed dim and far away as an unspeakable amount of current passed through her body.
She had just enough time to realize that she was being electrocuted before her heart twitched and then stopped working altogether. And in those final beats, she felt the man behind her somewhere, filling that otherwise empty garage that she would never park in again.
CHAPTER TWO
Rachel knew that Director Anderson was coming to her house but the knowing did nothing to curb just how odd it felt. When she answered the door and saw him standing there, it felt like standing on the threshold between two worlds. Even stranger was the fact that he was smiling, lowering some of his office defenses as she welcomed him into her home.
“I know,” Anderson said. “It’s weird, right?”
Rachel smiled and said, “Well, it wasn’t until you just put it out in the open like that. Come on in, Director.”
Anderson was an intimidating figure despite having an average build and having crossed the border into fifty years of age. Yet she noticed how he seemed to forcibly soften himself in her home. He even stood awkwardly in the living room, waiting for her to ask him to take a seat.
She did so, gesturing to the couch. “Sit down, sir. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, I’m good. It’s one of those situations where I think we should just go ahead and get the details ironed out and move on.”
“Yes, sir.”
As they both sat on the couch, Rachel understood how heavy and important this moment was. Paige was at school and she’d specifically asked Grandma Tate to not be here when Anderson came to visit. She’d framed it as a need to keep the house empty because classified information would be shared. And while this was technically true, there was a larger reason at the core of it: Director Anderson still didn’t know about her tumor. He had no idea that, based on her doctor’s best guess, she might have about fourteen months to live.
His visit today was to go over all things concerning Alex Lynch. It was a name that neither of them had spoken yet, but it hung in the air like poison all the same. Ever since he’d called and insinuated he’d known about Grandma Tate’s whereabouts last night, the house had felt like it was infected with him.
“First and foremost,” Anderson said, “the bureau is again going to place protection around your house. This protection is not going to end until Lynch is apprehended. If you have a problem with that, you just need to suck it up. I’m not budging on this.”
She understood the move perfectly and, in fact, did not want to argue it. If Lynch had not only escaped from prison but was so close to her house and loved ones, Rachel would take any protection and assistance she could get.
“No problem with that,” Rachel said. “And I appreciate it.”
“Well, we’re not done. As you know, we’re working closely with the U.S. Marshals and there’s still some speculation that Lynch might be playing some sort of elaborate trick. The fact that he had one of his goons place a dead squirrel in your daughter’s room not too long ago shows us that he has eyes and friends everywhere. So there’s a good chance he may actually be a good distance way and only wants you to think he’s local. In other words, there’s a legitimate fear that he’s trying to make us look specifically for him while he could have others working for him that might come for you or your family. That being said, we’re also assigning an agent to watch over you. Sort of armed security, like your own secret service.”
“Do you think that’s necessary?” Rachel asked.
“We just don’t know. The fact that we haven’t found Lynch makes me think that he has more help than we anticipated. And it’s just not a chance we’re willing to take. Besides…when your so-called two-week leave of absence is over, do you really want to keep it going? Do you really want to stay here, at home, wondering if and when someone is going to try something?”
“No, sir. And…about that two week leave of—”
“Do you regret it?” he interrupted.
“I do. I’m sorry about the way I reacted.”
“Then we’ll pretend that it never happened,” Anderson said, and she was happy to see that he looked relieved in saying it. “I’ll see that it’s redacted. All the same, though, I do think you should lay low for a few days. Maybe take the time to get the agent I’m assigning to your family used to the routine.”
“Sir, I still don’t know about—”
“It’s already decided, Agent Gift. I hand-selected him personally. A man named Stephen Carson. He used to work for the government under various witness protection programs. He’s also got nearly twenty years as a PI under his belt. I can wholeheartedly recommend him.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, realizing that this was not an argument she would win. “And when will that start?”
“This evening.” He grinned, which was something Rachel rarely saw him do, and said: “So maybe set an extra plate for dinner.”
“Does Agent Rivers know?” She hated to think of what Jack would make of her family having a special agent assigned to them. He’d rib her about this every chance he got, but in the playful and caring way he was so good at.
“He does,” Anderson said. “I even called him to get his opinion since he seems to really be invested in the situation. He not only agreed with me, but he also thinks Carson is a great fit for what we’re doing here.”
He was already getting to his feet, an indication that, in his mind, their conversation was over. “Do you have any other concerns?”
The two-week leave of absence she’d asked for and then instantly regretted had been swept under the rug. The bureau was putting so many extra pieces in play to make sure her family was safe. All of that together made her want to come clean with him about her diagnosis. But she also knew that if she were to do that, her career would be over.
And maybe that’s for the best, some part of her said. Besides, he’s going to find out eventually, and how do you think he’s going to react when he discovers you’ve hidden this from him? That you’ve been actively taking cases with this ticking time bomb in your head?
She was not at all surprised that she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. Hanging on to her job was the one act of normalcy she had, the one piece of her life before the diagnosis that had not yet been completely ruined by the tumor. The way she saw it, she had at least a few more weeks, maybe months, left before her capacities would be overruled by the cancer.
“Hang in there, Gift,” Anderson said as he headed for the door. “I’ll be outside with the first surveillance team for a bit, so let me know if you need anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
She stood in her doorway and watched Anderson cross her yard and stop by the black sedan that was parked on the other side of the road. She knew that Anderson’s visit, the presence of the surveillance team, and the addition of Carson to the mix should make her feel safe. But really, all she felt was a sense of defeat. She felt trapped and somehow alone, as if despite the many precautions that had been put in place, there may very well be no clear way out of this.
***
Stephen Carson showed up right in the middle of dinner as Rachel, Grandma Tate, and Paige were sitting around the table. Even though Rachel was still not sold on the idea of a personal security escort, she was surprised to find that she liked him right away. Carson was in his late forties and when he discovered that he’d arrived in the middle of their dinner, he did not make a big deal about it. He also did his very best to start working on Paige right away, making sure she was comfortable with the situation.
He sat down at the table with them as if it were the most natural thing in the world and gave Paige an almost apologetic expression. Rachel almost found the expression funny, a roll of the eyes and an awkward sort of slouch that seemed to say: I know, right? Look at this putz, just rolling up in here and interrupting dinner.
“Did your mom tell you I was coming?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Paige said. She would not meet his eyes yet. It was just something she’d always struggled with when meeting someone new.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. You’re here to keep us safe, right?”
“Right.”
“But that’s what Mommy does, you know. She keeps people safe. And she’s really good at it.”
Carson smiled, and it made him look a bit younger. His hair was going gray at the temples and there were specks of it in his five o’ clock shadow as well. “Oh, I know she is. Everyone at the FBI knows it.”
“They do?” Paige said.
“Oh, for sure.” He then looked over to Grandma Tate at the other end of the table and gave her that same smile. Rachel wasn’t sure, but she thought a bit of redness blossomed in Grandma Tate’s cheeks when he looked at her. “And did you know it, too, ma’am?”
“Well, Rachel never really talks much to me about her work,” she said. “But I always had a feeling.”
“Well, then,” Rachel said, getting to ger feet. “Before this can get any more awkward, Agent Carson, can I speak with you in the living room?”
They exited the kitchen and when they entered the living room, she instantly noticed Carson looking around to check out the surroundings. She appreciated the effort he was already putting in, both personally at the dinner table and professionally as he scoped out the room.
“Coming on too strong?” Carson asked.
“Not at all. I just thought we should actually talk before you dive right in. First of all, I have to admit that Anderson told me next to nothing about the finer details. For instance, where are you supposed to sleep?”
Carson shrugged, as if it really didn’t matter. “I’m flexible on that. The couch is fine, my car is fine, whatever. So long as the house is at least within my sight at all times…and that you’re comfortable with it.”
“The couch will have to do, then. I’m a little weird about the whole situation, but I’m not going to ask you to sleep in your car.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Also, during times like tomorrow morning when I take Paige to school, I don’t want you riding with us. You’ll just have to follow along behind us. I want things to seem as normal to Paige as possible.” What she was thinking but did not say was: She’s already dealing with a mother she knows is going die in about a year or so.
That thought brought up something totally different—and a bit alarming. What if Paige or Grandma Tate said something to Carson about her tumor? And what if Carson then reported that back to Anderson? It was a paralyzing thought, especially when she had no idea what to do about it. She doubted Grandma Tate would say anything because she knew it was a personal matter, but Paige would be the wildcard in that situation.
“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Carson said. He paused, gave her a curious glance, and said: “You do understand that Director Anderson has assigned me to this detail because he doesn’t want your work interrupted, right? I’m the hired hand that makes sure your loved ones are watched after while you’re working whatever cases he has for you.”
She hadn’t assumed this, but it made sense, she supposed. With surveillance and an armed guard at home, she’d be freed up to continued working. This was good in terms of not only trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but it would also divide the work and attention of Alex Lynch and whatever helpers he had.
“Well, I think for tomorrow, at the very least, I’ll be staying here.”
“Sure, of course. Maybe you can help me get a hold on the daily routines.”
“Yes, for sure,” she said. But she still wasn’t sold on the idea of having a hired security detail in her house. She wasn’t sure how to pitch this to Paige. Was Carson just a friend from work that needed to stay with them for a while or was he there to make sure they stayed safe because there was a bad man spying on them? She hated lying to her daughter, but she was fairly certain she’d be going with the latter.
“Want some dinner?” Rachel asked as she headed back into the kitchen.
“No, thanks. I ate before I got here.”
They resumed their place at the table, and Paige wasted no time in warming up to their new guest. “Are you from Mommy’s work?”
“I am. My name is Stephen Carson.”
“Mr. Carson is going to be staying here for a while,” Rachel said.
“Like a sleepover?” Paige asked. And then, before anyone could properly answer her, she let out a little gasp and whispered to Rachel: “Does Daddy know?”
“He doesn’t, but I think he’d be okay with it,” Rachel said, trying her very best to bite back a smile.
“Are you okay if I stay here for a while?” Carson asked, making sure to hold eye contact with Paige. “I’m sort of helping your mother out with something and it’s going to save so much time if I’m here in the house. I may even have to come along on little errands or trips.”
Rachel was instantly put at ease with seeing how comfortable he was with Paige—and, more importantly, how comfortable Paige was with him.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Paige said. “Do you need clothes or blankets or anything?”
Carson chuckled and shook his head. “No. But thank you. That’s very kind.”
Noticing that Paige’s plate was nearly empty, Rachel opened her mouth to suggest Paige go ahead and take her shower and get ready for bed. But before she could get any words out, Paige was talking again.
“Do you like board games?” Paige asked.
“Oh, I do!” Carson exclaimed.
“You want to play Sorry?”
“That just happens to be one of my favorites!”
Paige’s face lit up and without another word, she got down from her chair and hurried into the living room. Rachel shook her head and laughed, giving Carson an apologetic smile. “You don’t have to.”
“It’s quite alright. I’ve done this before, in a home with kids. You’ve got to get the kid comfortable right away if it’s going to work. Besides…I do like board games, and I haven’t had the chance to play one in a few years.”
He got up from the table and followed Paige into the living room. Both Rachel and Grandma Tate watched him go, and Rachel could still see that bit of red in her grandmother’s cheeks.
“He’s good,” Grandma Tate said.
“Yeah, I think he is,” Rachel said. She stood up from her chair and walked to the archway between the kitchen and the living room. She watched as Carson sat down on the couch while Paige pulled Sorry out from the lower case of the living room’s built-in bookshelf. She was smiling widely as she brought the box over and started to set it up.
The stinging in her heart seemed to come out of nowhere. From time to time, Peter had played board games with her, but never with such enthusiasm. Now, it had been over two weeks since Paige had even seen her father, so to see her so eager to spend some time with the first available positive role model was both uplifting and sad at the same time.
Strangely enough, it made her think of her own father. And immediately on the heels of that came the knowledge that just yesterday, Jack told her that he’d not only found her father’s phone number, but had spoken with him. He’d given her the number and the information that her father claimed he’d be up to speaking with her.
Rachel found herself moving through the kitchen before she could talk herself out of the idea that crossed her mind. She went to the barstools in the kitchen, where her purse was hanging on the back of the closest one to her. She pulled the slip of paper out of one of the inner pockets and then grabbed her cellphone.
You’re really going to do this?
She heard Paige giggling from the living room, and it seemed to push her on. She looked to Grandma Tate as she made her way to the back door that led to the patio. “Can you keep an eye out?” she asked.
“Sure. You okay?”
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