Her Last Shot, page 2
Same came to the top of the stairs and stepped out onto Level B. The garage was L-shaped, meaning that he could see both paths when he came out of the door. The Civic was the only car left behind, with the exception of the old Ford pickup that had been parked at the far end of the lane to Sam's right. but that had been there for three months now, the secondary car of a cop that sometimes worked as a security guard for the Performing Arts center.
Sam walked toward the Civic, the gray car shining dully in the overhead lights. Even with about fifty feet remaining between Sam and the car, he could see the man in the driver’s seat. This was also nothing new to Sam. Several times, he’d come across people that had retreated to their cars during a lunch break only to inadvertently fall asleep. And though Sam had never seen this man come back into the garage, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He could have come back in while Sam was taking a bathroom break…and at his age, there were more than a few throughout the day.
He came to the car and sighed. Deep down, he rather enjoyed having to wake people up in this fashion. he’d only had to do it three times in the past, but the startled reaction was quite enjoyable. He reached out and tapped on the driver’s side glass three times. The man inside didn’t move a muscle. He was seated with his back fish against the dear, his neck tilted slightly back and his chin at an angle.
Sam stepped closer and knocked again, louder this time. "Hey, man. You got to wake up. You got to get out of here."
But the man still didn't move. Same started feel slightly uneasy. Maybe this was one of those closet druggies that had wandered off to get high wherever they could, away from the attention of their family and loved ones. It was hard to tell, really. The man looked relatively healthy: a thirty-something white male with a full face and a bit of a beard. But, healthy or not, he was dead asleep.
Are we sure about that asleep part, though, Sam asked himself.
His unease grew into something closer to panic as he reached out to see if the door was unlocked. He doubted it, though, because it was a newer car. It probably locked the moment the door was close and—
But the handle came up easily, and there was a click as the door opened. Sam opened the door and somehow, even before he reached out to nudge the guy, he knew what he was going to find. He tapped the man on the shoulder, and there was no response.
“Hey, come on, man…” Sam said.
He gave the man a tiny shove on the shoulder, and his head lolled to the right. Sam cursed. Wincing, he reached out to check for a pulse at the man's neck but then thought better of it. No sense in getting his prints on the body.
Because that what Sam was looking at was just that…a body. The man was sleeping, and the man wasn’t knock-out drunk.
The man was dead.
CHAPTER TWO
The slug from the gunshot that had torn through Rachel’s left side five and a half months ago was in a small frame that sat on her bedside table. Jack had given it to her as a very strange Christmas present but the thought behind it has been sweet. "Not only did you beat death," he'd joked, "but you now have its attempt in a frame. That's pretty bad-ass."
He’d said it in front of Paige and then she’d asked what “bad-ass” meant. Everyone had a good laugh over it (and Rachel had a conversation with Paige about appropriate and inappropriate language) and just looking at the slug in the frame brought a strange, warm feeling to her.
She was looking at it on the morning she woke up and found herself ravenous for breakfast for the first time in forever. The hunger in and of itself was great news because it was, according to one of her many doctors and specialists, it was a sign that her body was resuming its normal state of things. There had been so slightly disgusting bathroom-related milestones, and her sudden bursts of migraines had stopped roughly three weeks ago, but the return of her appetite was what they’d all been hoping for. And the bigger it was, the better.
In other words, after five months of an experimental treatment, she may finally be out of the woods. She might finally be back to normal…and the cancer may very well be gone.
Rachel got out of bed and carried on the same as she had every morning since she’d started the experimental treatment in Geneva. She brushed her teeth, she took her meds, she did a few simple kettlebell exercises and a bit of yoga. After taking a cold shower, her appetite was insane. Her stomach was growling and grumbling as she made her way downstairs. She found Paige and Grandma Tate already at the kitchen table. Grandma Tate had scrambled up some eggs and baked a rube of instant biscuits. Rachel was so hungry that she bypassed the coffee maker and headed directly for the table.
“Good morning, ladies,” Rachel said as she sat down to the table with a plate.
“Hey, Mommy!” Paige said. “Are you taking me to school today?”
It was a common question these days, as Rachel’s mornings had been hit or miss. Some days she woke up feeling overly energetic, almost to the point of feeling spastic. But there had also been the occasional mornings when she’d wake up with a migraine and feel as if she’d not slept at all. The headaches had gotten so bad on occasion that it had caused her to throw up. This, she knew, was one of the potential side effects of the treatment she’d been enduring.
“Yes, absolutely!”
“So it’s a good morning, I take it?” Grandma Tate asked.
“Very good. I woke up starving.” She shoveled a huge spoonful of eggs onto her plate as if to put an exclamation point on the comment.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!”
“That’s…a little cruel,” Rachel said, grabbing up two biscuits.
“Oh, you know what I mean!”
“Yes, it’s a good sign for sure.”
“So you’re all better now?” Paige asked hopefully.
“Well, we talked about this, sweetie. I’ll never be all better. But right now, I’m very close to being just as healthy as I was before they found the tumor. I can still be active, I can go back to work without worrying, and I can keep planning things for us to do.”
Paige smiled and nodded, beginning to bob her head to a song only she could hear. She then frowned a bit and said, “Does that mean no more airplane rides to Switzerland?”
The idea that she no longer had to travel to Geneva was uplifting, though Rachel supposed she would miss the scenery. She'd grown to love the city but hate the visits during the four times she'd been over there—once for a two-week stay. The treatments, which involved a copious amount of IV-fed drugs, UV light technology she didn’t understand, and a much gentler form of hemotherapy, had not been too strenuous but she sure as hell wasn’t going to miss them.
“I’ll have to go back one more time in a few weeks,” Rachel said. “But I’ll be sure to take you with me. Sound good?”
“Yeah!”
The three of them ate in a typical weekday morning silence, and when Paige was done eating, she hopped down from her chair and announced to everyone that she was going to pee and brush her teeth.
“Not at the same time, I hope,” Grandma Tate said.
“Eww,” Paige responded as she made her way upstairs.
When it was clear that he was actually upstairs—evidenced by her stamping feet above them—Grandma Tate reached across the able and took Rachel’s hand as it was reaching out for another biscuit.
“You’re being truthful, right? You really feel good?”
“I feel great, actually. You know, I usually wake up even on the good says with a bit of grogginess and brain fog. But that’s not here today. Actually…I can’t remember having it for the past few days.”
Her grandmother smiled and said, “Well, with your permission, I’d like to be optimistic about this.”
Rachel chuckled as she forked up another bite of eggs. “Why would you need my permission?”
“Oh, sweetie, you’re usually not one to look on the bright side of things.”
“Well, maybe that’s going to change.”
“Oh boy, I hope so,” Grandma Tate said with a mocking laugh.
Rachel knew what she wanted to bring up next. It had been on her mind for a few weeks now, but speaking it out loud terrified her for reasons she wasn't fully clear on. But she knew if she was going to bring it up, now was the time. If Paige came downstairs, she'd lose her nerve.
“To prove that point,” she said, pretty much forcing it out of herself, “I want your opinion on something. You enjoy living here with us, right?”
“I do. I love it. You know that.”
“And do you think you’d still love it if there was one more person living here?”
She didn’t seem to understand the question at first, but Rachel could see it slowly dawn on her over a few seconds. “Are you…are you talking about Jack?”
“I am. Would you be okay with that?”
The smile that quickly came to her face told her all she needed to know, but Grandma Tate still answered. “Of course! That’s wonderful. But…is he okay that I’m living here?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t even asked him yet. But he likes you a lot, and he adores Paige. And he’s been a huge part of getting me through these past few months.”
She was surprised to find that she was nearly choked up as she said this. Grandma Tate nodded and looked away for a moment, as if to make sure she wouldn’t see tears fall. Rachel kept them away, though, as she ran through a reel of memories over the past five and a half months. There had been weeks when he’d essentially lived in the house anyway, making sure she was fine and that Grandma Tate didn’t catch the brunt of the errands when it came to dealing with a sick cancer patient. She thought of the two trips to Switzerland where he’d come along and it had felt, at times, more like a romantic getaway than visiting for a cancer treatment. He’d been constant through her highs and lows, and at some point about three months ago, Rachel had finally decided to stop trying to fight the feelings that were starting to boil over and demanded to be acknowledged.
On the other hand, she knew this would be an enormous step. If she asked and he said no, it could alter things between them. But given how important he'd been to her and how she'd been in love with him for most of that time, she thought it was a risk worth taking. A small voice tried telling her how badly things could go, and she had to decide on a daily basis to shut it down
“I think I was careless with everyone I cared about back when the tumor was starting to affect things,” she said. “I chose work over you and Paige…over my own safety and common sense. And I think because of that, a lot of other feelings went to the wayside. But…I think this feels right. If he’ll move in. And after I’ve talked to Paige. Because if Paige is uncomfortable with it, I won’t even bother asking him.”
“Of course.” But she still wore her smile, clearly happy about the idea. “Will you ask Paige on the way to school?”
"No, I don't want to drop that in her lap before school. Maybe this weekend. I'll take her out for ice cream or something. And you know…I mean, even if she says she's good with it, there's still the whole thing of Jack wanting to live with me.” She chuckled and said, “With us.”
Grandma Tate waved the comment away and shook her head. "Of course, he'll say yes. At the risk of making you blush, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m pretty sure he loves you…and I think you know it, too.”
Rachel wasn’t absolutely certain about that, but it was a lovely thought. Before either of them could say anything further, Paige came downstairs. Her bookbag was slung over her shoulder as she marched over to the counter to get the thermos she’d filled with water earlier in the morning. This was her telltale indicator that she was ready to go now.
“Oh, sorry,” Rachel said with a guilty smile, shoveling more eggs and biscuit into her mouth. “Can you give me ten minutes just to get ready? We’ve still got plenty of time.”
"Yeah," she said. Paige was trying her best to seem annoyed that she had to wait, but it was clear that she was perfectly happy to go back over to the table and pour herself another glass of orange juice.
Rachel excused herself from the table, taking one last glance at Grandma Tate’s knowing smile. She wondered if it had been a mistake to tell her what she’d been thinking; if Rachel decided to go back on her idea or perhaps realize that it was maybe a bad idea, Grandma Tate would constantly remind her of it and forever ask questions.
But that was a worry for another day…later in the week, probably. Because she’d told Grandma Tate the truth—that she wouldn’t even consider asking Jack to move in if Paige wasn’t on board. She did her best to push the entire scenario out of her mind as she made quick work of getting ready for the morning—throwing in a hoody, spending about two minutes with her hair, and slipping into a pair of running shoes.
After all, this attire was just to take Paige to school. She’d be coming back home to change again, this time to go into the office. It would be the third time in the past two weeks, a slow transition back into work as her health got progressively better. But this time, it would be third visit to the office, where he’d be actively looking at case files and maybe making calls to help another agent find a an elusive lead. It wasn’t the most exciting work, but she was thrilled to be included.
Also, it would be the first time she’d been in a work setting with Jack in almost six months. And she wasn’t sure if either of them were ready for that yet. Still, there was a level of excitement about it, something that made her feel like she was back in high school and secretly crushing on a boy.
It was a feeling that had her smiling as she went downstairs to take Paige to school. and after that, the remainder of the day may slowly begin inching her back toward the life she’d known and loved before the tumor had so rudely interrupted.
CHAPTER THREE
Rachel had been going into the office two days a week for the past three weeks. She'd started this schedule when the worst of the headaches waned off and after the experts in Switzerland had given her the all-clear to return to work in as limited a capacity as possible. At first, it had just been to check in with Assistant Director Anderson about her health and what the coming months would look like as she tried to get nestled back into the flow of things.
Then last week she’d been asked to familiarize herself with a new list of criminals that were part of a nationwide search—the idea being that when she came back on full-time, she could remain a part of the study and research end of things. And today, as she stepped into her cubicle for the first time in six months, she found herself excited about such a job—a desk job she would have balked at a year ago.
There was a small bouquet of flowers waiting at her desk. She sat down and plucked the letter from the plastic holder. She unfolded it and read the brief note: you can hold this vase to occupy your hands when you want to put them on me. No funny business at work! – Jack
Grinning, she slid the flowers to the side and started up her laptop. It took just a few seconds for a system update screen to come on—one of many irritations she’d expected to deal with after having been away for half a year. So as she waited for the loading bar to fill in (expected wait time of seven minutes, according to the prompt), she took out her phone, wanting to make sure her bureau mail was still going to link easily from the server. As she did, though, she saw that a note from her Reminder app had popped up.
The note was titled Paige’s Big Trip. Over the past month or so, when Rachel’s health had significantly improved, the original plans for the big trip she was going to take with Paige had changed. Six months ago, before she’d been shot and started the experimental treatments in Switzerland, the trip she and Paige had been planning consisted of nothing more than a four-day Disney World extravaganza. But just in the past few weeks, Paige had also requested doing “something with dolphins.”
Rachel had kept it a secret that Sea World was a very short drive away from Disney World and, for now, Paige’s only answer to such a trip was “We’ll see what we can do.” With a nervous grin, Rachel saw that she still had three minutes remaining on the software update. She then went to the travel app she’d been using to keep tabs on flight prices. She’d used the “freeze price” feature two days ago when she’d looked at the flights. Now, without even giving it much thought, she made a few taps on her screen and had the flight booked.
The sense of overwhelming excitement that came over her at having finally gone ahead and taken the first big step toward their trip took her by surprise. She instantly opened up the email on her phone (the system update still had one minute remaining) and shot a brief email to Director Anderson, requesting the additional week off following her final trip to Switzerland for what she hoped would be the very final visit of the year, scheduled for two weeks from now. She’d need to go back at six-month intervals for the following two years, but that was fine with her.
With the email sent, she found her laptop finally on its newly updated home screen. She spent the next several minutes double-checking to make sure the bureau email was linked to her phone, opening up the files on the big nationwide case she’d be assisting with from this very desk, and sorting out several months of internal department emails—all very boring, mundane stuff.
Oddly enough, after software updates and the familiarity of the office setting, Rachel couldn't seem to get her mind to focus on the tasks at hand. She was already thinking about what to pack for the trip she and Paige would be taking in two weeks. She was wondering about how Paige might respond to rollercoasters and which ones she may be scared of. This lack of focus was even more surprising because things had been the exact opposite in the past. Work had come first, even if she hated to admit it. Even over Paige and Peter…work had taken top priority.
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