The subject rested between them like an invisible bomb—a bomb with the name of Alex Lynch. The man she’d put away years ago who had sharpened a grudge against her. A man who had somehow managed to taunt her and her family from within prison walls, including paying someone to deliver a dead squirrel and a threatening note into her daughter’s bedroom. And now a man who possessed the determination and tenacity to somehow escape from prison was moving around the state, free and on the roam.

  “Well, here’s the thing,” Anderson said. “You’re right. I do think it’s a bad idea to let you anywhere near it. Your personal involvement with Alex Lynch makes you a very bad candidate for the job. And don’t you go thinking for a minute that I haven’t yet assigned anyone because I was waiting for you. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. The US Marshals Service is already involved on this. They’re on the hunt.”

  “I figured they would be,” Rachel said. “Two days in and what results do they have?”

  “They have a few leads, as a matter of fact. From what I was told this morning, they are following a trail that is leading them to Charlottesville. Lynch has a sick mother there, you know.”

  “I do. And if you think a monster like Alex Lynch gives a damn about his ailing mother, you’re as sorely misled as the US Marshals Service. I know Lynch. I know him too well.”

  “You know I can’t put you on this, Rachel.”

  Using her first name…that said a lot. He felt for her. It showed her that Anderson wanted her on it, but knew it was a dead end. “Even if I ignored all instincts and signed you on to it, you know what would happen, right? As soon as the US Marshals run into you, they’ll block you at every turn.”

  “Then I just won’t run into them.”

  Anderson shook his head. “My answer is no. You’re too emotionally involved. The way he’s messed with your family over these last few weeks…I just can’t allow it.”

  Rachel saw the dead squirrel in her daughter’s room, placed there by one of Lynch’s old friends. She recalled how upset her Grandma Tate had been when she’d gotten the letter from Lynch in the mail, informing her of Rachel’s diagnosis. Yes, she was emotionally attached to the case. Yes, she was taking it personally.

  “So there’s nothing I can say to make you put me on this?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “I’m sorry, Rachel. But I can’t.”

  She sighed, nodded, and got to her feet. “Then I’d like to put in for a leave of absence, effective immediately.”

  The look on his face was not one of shock, as she’d expected, but befuddlement. If it were a game of poker, she’d just made a wager that he’d not been expecting. What he didn’t know, though, was that he could not make any sort of countermove. No upping the bet, no calling her bluff. Because she’d already made the decision.

  Going after Alex Lynch would have been her last case. After that, she’d give her notice and live the last few healthy months she had with her family.

  And if she wasn’t going to get Lynch, then she was done.

  “Rachel…Agent Gift, what are you trying to do?”

  “I’m not trying to do anything,” Rachel said. “But with Lynch out, there’s no way I’m going to be able to focus on anything else. So I’m going to spend time with my family until he’s caught. In the past five weeks, Lynch has had an effect on my daughter, my grandmother, and the overall safety of my family. So if I can’t go after Lynch, I’m taking the time to be with my family.”

  Rachel studied Anderson’s face, trying to decide how he was feeling about this. There was scrutiny at first, as if he thought he might be getting played or manipulated. After a few seconds, he got to his feet and looked her directly in the eyes.

  “What else is going on here, Gift?”

  “Nothing. I just think this is the best move for my family right now.” And on the end of that, she felt the weight of what she had left to tell him. She could tell him about her tumor and it would all make sense to him. But for now, she wanted to keep that away from him and, truth be told, she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because she’d feel like she was exploiting her weakness and now, sitting here with him, that seemed like a very cowardly thing to do. But really, at the core of it, she knew the simple truth: she didn’t want to appear weak in any way. Especially not to Director Anderson.

  “How long of a leave of absence are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. How long do you think it will take the US Marshals to do their job?”

  Anderson folded his arms across his chest. It was a posture that reminded her how, even though he was nearing sixty, the man was in excellent shape. His arms and chest filled out the white button-down nicely.

  “I’ll give you two weeks,” he said. “Anything more than that, we need to touch base.”

  “I certainly hope it won’t take them that long.” Immature or not, she just couldn’t resist getting in that last jab.

  “Agent Gift, are you sure about this?”

  She glared at him for a moment. It was clear he knew he didn’t have the entire story but, given the tricky nature of the situation, was choosing to remain quiet about it.

  “Yes,” Rachel said. “I’m positive. Only…would you mind letting me know when they find him? Can I stay updated?”

  Anderson considered it for a moment and finally nodded. “I’ll send you any daily reports pertaining to the pursuit of Alex Lynch, yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  She made her way to the door and was surprised to find that she felt a slight bit of regret. She felt that she was indeed manipulating Anderson in a way, pressing him into a give me what I want or I may just walk sort of scenario. But then again, he didn’t know about the tumor, about the fact that she likely only had a year to live—and half of that time may be spent in considerable stress and pain.

  But she said nothing else as she left his office. She figured he’d have someone email her the paperwork necessary for her two weeks of leave, but that could be handled later. For now, she had a date with her daughter and grandmother to get to.

  She couldn’t think of a better way to start her two weeks off. And after all, maybe it would distract her from the unsettling fact that as of right now, she was on leave from the FBI.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was an overcast day, a breeze passing through the park as if reminding everyone that autumn was on its way. Rachel walked along one of the many sidewalks that led through the park, with her daughter to her left and her grandmother on the other side of Paige. They’d just left the ice cream truck, all three of them carrying their own treats. Paige had a bit of her cotton-candy-flavored soft serve trickling down her arm.

  “Okay,” Rachel said, looking at Paige. “You took the day off from school, you went to the pool with Grandma Tate, you got ice cream, and we’re having pizza for dinner. Is there anything else you want to do?”

  Paige thought about it for a moment as she licked her ice cream cone. With wide eyes she said, “Is this the park Daddy sometimes took me to? The one with the duck pond?”

  “It is.”

  “Ooh, can we go see the ducks?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Grandma Tate seemed to be just as overjoyed as Paige at this news. She clapped her hands excitedly, almost dropping her ice cream. “I wonder if they have anything to feed them!”

  “Let’s go see,” Rachel said.

  As they rerouted themselves and went off in search of the duck pond, Rachel couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. It was a gorgeous afternoon and a very touching moment for the three of them, but her mind was partially back on her meeting with Anderson. She couldn’t help but wonder if there might be some repercussions waiting for her if she chose to go back.

  Only, you’re not going back, she thought to herself. Whether or not Lynch is caught, you can’t go back. If you do, you’ll have to reveal your diagnosis eventually. You were already a ticking time bomb on the last few cases since you got the diagnosis.

  This was easier to admit to herself now that Jack, her partner, knew. He’d been understanding and even helpful, referring her to a doctor who had managed to give her a bit of hope for a small amount of time. Jack knew, Grandma Tate knew, and now Paige knew. Peter, her husband, knew as well. But they’d been separated for about a month now, and living without him in the wake of all of this had been far easier than she’d expected.

  She was still at odds with the fact that Paige knew. She’d taken it as well as could be expected for a girl of eight years of age to take such news. There had been some crying, sure, but there had mostly been a relentless barrage of questions. Most of the time, though, things with Paige had been mostly normal ever since Rachel had told her. Like now, as the duck pond came into view and the little girl pulled both her mother and her grandmother toward the water. The ducks, having long since grown accustomed to the presence of humans, scattered listlessly, some retreating and some swimming forward in the hope of snacks.

  “Look at that,” Grandma Tate said. She was pointing to a small dispenser by the edge of a little dock that extended out over the pond. It contained little pellets for the ducks. She dug into her purse, grabbed two quarters, and sent Paige out to the dock to get some.

  Rachel sat on one of the several benches around the pond, watching her daughter hurry along up to the dock. Grandma Tate sat as well, giving Rachel a reassuring slap on the knee.

  “You doing okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure? I’m certain that meeting with your director couldn’t have been easy on you.”

  “It was actually easier than I’d thought it would be.”

  She’d gotten used to this over the past two weeks. Now that Grandma Tate knew about the tumor, she’d been doting over her incessantly. Do you need anything? Shouldn’t you be resting? Are you feeling well? On and on and on.

  Rachel supposed part of it came from a strange dichotomy between them, wherein Grandma Tate had been diagnosed before Rachel but the treatments she was taking were helping and her cancer was going into remission. In a relationship where Rachel, the granddaughter, was fully intending to have to take care of Grandma Tate, the roles had been quickly reversed. Both women were very much aware of this odd reversal of fortune, and it resulted in a strange little dance.

  On the dock, Paige had gotten the pellets for the ducks. She’d placed them into a plastic container by the dispenser and was shaking it joyously at her mother and great-grandmother.

  “Well, we’d better get over there before she shakes the whole dock down,” Grandma Tate said. She got up and started in that direction but turned back to Rachel. “You’re okay with the rest of your days being like this?”

  Rachel saw the glimmer of tears in her grandmother’s eyes. But she also saw her daughter, bright and beaming by the pond with sticky ice cream trails on her forearms. She saw the afternoon light coming down across the trees and over the pond. It all seemed to make the idea of Alex Lynch seem abstract. It made her career as an FBI agent seem like a very vivid dream she’d once had, even so soon removed from Anderson’s office.

  “Yeah, I think so,” she said.

  Grandma Tate nodded and looked back over to Paige. “You coming?” she asked Rachel.

  “Yeah. Just…give me a second.”

  Grandma Tate walked over to the dock and joined Paige. Rachel watched them for a moment, generational bookends that helped her to get a better grasp on the flow and depth of life. She’d opted not to go out and join them just yet because she wasn’t quite sure she’d answered her grandmother’s question as honestly as she should have.

  Because the truth of the matter was that she wasn’t sure if she could spend the rest of her days like this. Even if she got motivated and pulled out her very short bucket list, traveling while she still could, she wasn’t sure she’d be satisfied. While she’d meant everything she told Director Anderson earlier in the day, the idea of just coasting through during her last few healthy months felt like defeat. The competitive and determined part of her wanted to run until the wheels came off, to keep working until she couldn’t get out of bed in the morning.

  And if Anderson had caved and placed her on the Alex Lynch case, she supposed that’s exactly what she would have done.

  Defeat or not, the sting of it lessened when she looked at Paige, though. A girl who was going to have to grow up without a mother—and with a father who was probably going to be processing guilt and a series of what-ifs for most of his daughter’s childhood.

  So maybe these last few days shouldn’t be all about her. Maybe she should focus them around Paige. Maybe she should let Paige know how much she was loved and that even in the face of an approaching death, there was nothing that could separate Paige from the love her mother felt for her.

  Looking out, she watched Paige and Grandma Tate start tossing out pellets to the ducks. Paige giggled and laughed as the ducks came rocketing over, skimming effortlessly over the water. Slowly, Rachel stood and made her way over. As she did, her heart beamed with love for the two people standing in front of her, even as she could also feel the slight shadow of a raincloud over her every thought, a cloud that cast a shadow of doubt—a shadow that she imagined likely took the shape of Alex Lynch.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jack Rivers sat at his cubicle, looking at the phone number he’d scrawled down earlier in the day. It was just a series of numbers, but looking at them made him feel nervous. He’d found this particular phone number after a week or so of searching and now that he had it, he wasn’t sure what he should do with it. He’d written it down because he’d not felt safe keeping the digital record of it. He’d had to go outside of the bureau for help in tracking the number down and, as such, did not want to get into any sort of trouble—not just for the secondary, under-the-table help, but also because he’d been using bureau time and resources on information-gathering that had not been related to a case.

  Well, he’d crossed the line now, he supposed. Might as well take it a step further. Besides, he knew Anderson had no idea and anyone higher up than Anderson typically didn’t involve themselves in the day-to-day actions of a lowly agent like Jack Rivers.

  He picked up his cellphone—his personal one, not the bureau-assigned one—and his finger hovered over the face of it for a moment before he punched the number in. The bit of remaining hesitancy didn’t come from his worries about being reprimanded, but of how Rachel might respond. He was doing this for her, and she had no idea what he was up to. She might find it an invasion of her personal space, or simply a part of her life he had no business delving into.

  But again…he had the number. He’d made some shady moves to get it. Why back out now?

  Still, not here…not at his cubicle where anyone could walk by and hear the conversation he was about to have. He hopped up out of his chair and made his way out of the central area of the field office. He walked down the hall, out of the front lobby, and to the small lawn outside. Only one other person was out here, an agent by the name of Carter, sneaking in a quick cigarette. The two men nodded to one another as Jack walked past him and to a bench that looked right back toward the FBI’s Richmond field office.

  Before he could convince himself to stall again, Jack punched the number into his phone. It rang once, twice, and was picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello?” said a gruff, male voice.

  “Hello,” Jack said. “I’m looking for a gentleman by the name of Douglas Gift.”

  “This is Douglas. But if this is a scam call, you can take my name off your list and then cram the list up your ass.”

  “No, sir, this is not a scam call. My name is Jack Rivers, and I am an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m calling to verify your identity. You’re Douglas Gift of Buffalo, New York, correct?”

  “I am,” he said, clearly confused. “Wait…you said you’re with the FBI?”

  “That’s right. Sir…you have a daughter named Rachel, correct?”

  There was no response at first and then, after a few seconds, perhaps the most unexpected response of all. A rough bit of laughter. “I do. She in some sort of trouble?”

  The absolute lack of emotion was disarming. Yes, he had a daughter and he hadn’t sene her in forever. So what? Next question.

  “No, sir,” Jack said. “I’m a friend of hers. She has no idea I’ve made this call. But there are…well, there are things Rachel is dealing with right now and I think she may need to reach out to you at some point soon.”

  “Reach out to me?” Ah, there was a bit of emotion. Surprise and…was that sadness? “What for?”

  “It’s not my business to day.”

  “But you thought it was your business to make this call?”

  “I did. I need to know straight from you that if she were to reach out and call you that you would accept.”

  This time, there was a thick silence from the other end. Finally, it ended, with: “Yeah. Yeah, you know, I think I might like that.” There was another pause, and then: “Is she…well, how is she?”

  “She’s pretty amazing, Mr. Gift. Beyond that, I’ll leave it to her.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Douglas Gift saids, the words coming quickly.

  “Goodbye,” Jack said, ending the call.

  Rachel had only mentioned her father a single time—a passing mention about how she wanted to patch things up with him before she died. Jack was quite sure it wouldn’t have even been on her radar without the discovery of the tumor and the zero chance of surviving it, but she had mentioned it. And he felt that he had to do something for her. His thinking was that making that call—reaching out in any capacity—would be hard. So he thought if he ripped the Band-Aid off for her and started the ball rolling, it might be a big step forward.

  Jack put his phone back into his pocket and wondered if he was overstepping. He had no idea what sort of rifts and history existed between Douglas and Rachel. And he also knew it was none of his business. But Rachel had been on his mind a lot lately. He wasn’t naïve enough to misconstrue thoughts about her as romantic; she was a great agent and dependable friend, but she simply wasn’t his type.

 

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