“Are you su—”

  “Go, dammit!”

  Angry now, Jack continued on toward the back yard. As he got there, he looked to the back of the house. The porch was small and rather rickety, but he could see the woman he’d spoken with standing at the back door, looking out through a window. She was on the phone with someone, speaking very animatedly.

  On the far end of the yard, there was a man running into the neighbor’s back yard. He had to jump over a small flowerbed that separated the two yards. When the man landed, he stumbled a bit but kept his balance. He then cut around behind the neighbor’s garage, making a direct path back to the street.

  Moron, Jack thought. The instinct, he supposed, was sound. He was probably cutting back over to the street to get into a car and then speed away. But Jack had no intentions of letting things get that far. Instead of leaping over the flower bed and taking the same route as the assailant, he cut hard to the left, dashing back up toward Charlie Foster’s front yard. He pushed himself hard, unsure of which direction the man—presumably Charlie Foster—had gone.

  Jack came to the front yard, his eyes already scanning the neighbor’s yard and the sidewalk along the street in front of it. Sure enough, Charlie Foster was heading for an old, blue Mazda. When he saw Jack already coming his way having cut him off, Charlie stopped dead in his tracks and tried to quickly change directions. In doing so, his left foot slid slightly in the grass and he almost fell again. It was more than enough of a stumble to allow Jack to catch up with him. Charlie made it no more than three additional steps before Jack reached out, grabbed his shoulder, and threw him to the ground.

  Charlie hit pretty hard, nearly bouncing as he rolled over. He attempted to get to his feet, but Jack was there in an instant. He fell on top of Charlie, doing everything he could to pin him down rather than engage in a fight. Charlie tried to wriggle out from underneath him and Jack did end up throwing one attack out. It was a simple knee to the ribs, nothing hard enough to do any real damage, but just enough to make him stop squirming long enough for Jack to pull the man’s arms behind his back. He cuffed him quickly and then got to his feet. He looked around, glad that no one had seen the exchange, though he thought he saw movement along the front window of Charlie’s house.

  “Come on up,” Jack said, reaching down and helping Charlie to his feet.

  “What the hell do you want me for anyway?” Charlie asked in a slurred, southern accent.

  “Well, first, we just wanted to ask you some questions about your little outburst with Life Fulfilled. But given that you and I just had a little footrace, I think there’s a whole other conversation we need to have now.”

  As he pushed Charlie along toward his bureau sedan, he spotted Rachel coming around the side of the house. She looked embarrassed but seemed to be walking perfectly fine. Maybe, Jack thought, she legitimately just slipped.

  But he knew that wasn’t the case. Rachel would probably try to deny it, but he knew the truth.

  “Good work,” Rachel said. “You good?”

  “I’m fine,” he said as he opened the back door to the sedan and forced Charlie inside. The man still had some fight in him but seemed mostly resigned to how things had worked out. “The question is: how are you?”

  “I’m good. Really.”

  “I’ve heard that a lot from you lately,” he said. “And it’s mostly been lies.”

  “No it hasn’t. And you know, I’d really rather not have that conversation right now.”

  “Fine. Why don’t you stay here and make sure Mr. Foster doesn’t try making a run for it. I’m going to head inside and have a talk with his lady friend to see what the hell is going on.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Jack moved toward the house to do just that and realized that this was the first time in the course of their five-year partnership that he was actually mad at Rachel. It felt odd and he resented her for making him feel such a way, but he also had to once again remind himself that he had gone to her this afternoon. She had not called him up and begged to be part of the case. No, he had gone to her. And now this was what he had to deal with.

  As he walked up to the porch again, he looked back to the car. Rachel was standing her ground, not yet inside the car but keeping her eyes on Charlie Foster from the outside. And as he watched her standing in the gathering dusk, Jack couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets she might be keeping rom him and just how bad her condition truly was.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rachel noticed the way Jack was walking as he walked out of the house. There was a march to it, as if he had some undefined purpose he was trying to find. She could tell he was angry and assumed it was because of her. But they couldn’t let their personal issues get in the way of the case.

  “She’s clean?” Rachel asked, noting the woman inside the house was not with him.

  “She was no help, but we’ve got nothing to bust her on,” Jack said. “She says her name is Rosalie Deetz and she’s been dating Charlie for about six months.”

  “Any clue as to why he’d be running?”

  “Nothing I could see. If there’s anything at all in the house, I’m sure a thorough look-over will turn something up.” He crossed his arms as he stood with her outside of the car while Charlie Foster waited in the back seat. “So what do we do now, Rachel? You can’t very well come with me into the office to question him. If anyone who knows about your leave of absence sees you, Anderson is going to find out.”

  She knew he was right but still felt a bit of resentment at the way he was addressing her. “You’re right,” she said flatly. “So just take me back to my house. It’s not too far out of the way.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “No. I hate it. But as much as I hate to admit it, it’s the smart move.” She smiled out of habit, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe you just drive slowly and we can question him in the car.”

  He made the same lazy smile but then cocked his head and changed his expression. “Maybe that’s not so crazy,” he said. He’d lowered his voice, as if making sure Charlie couldn’t hear him. “Get in. Follow my lead.”

  Rachel was not usually so easygoing when it came to following along with a plan that she didn’t know the details to. But the look of curiosity and determination she saw on Jack’s face made it a little easier to go along with whatever he had planned.

  They both got into the car and as soon as the doors were closed, Jack looked into the back seat, directly at Charlie. “Charlie Foster, yes?”

  “Yes,” Charlie said. Rachel could tell that he was uneasy but was doing his very best to keep a brave face on.

  “Any reason you ran like your house was on fire when you heard the FBI was at the door?”

  Charlie looked back and forth between them, trying his best to size them up. Having interrogated several hundred people during her time as an agent, Rachel knew that this was the moment where the criminal tried to make a decision. Did they deny any wrong-doing or did they admit just enough to warrant a slap on the wrist with the hope that the feds would go away happy with a small victory while there was a much larger crime lurking elsewhere?

  Ten seconds passed and Charlie said nothing. He looked back toward the house, where Rosalie Deetz was still watching, now from a small crack in the front door.

  Jack took his eyes away from Charlie and looked at Rachel. He sighed, shook his head, and said, “Damn, Gift. What do you want to do here? Is it even worth the trouble? The day’s over and I just want to get home.”

  “Hey, a bust is a bust,” Rachel said. “What did the girlfriend say?”

  “Not a thing.” Again, looking back to Charlie, he said: “Come on, just tell us. Why’d you run. No, wait…a better question: why do you think we were here in the first place?”

  “Hell if I know,” Charlie said. Rachel saw that he was clearly confused over the way this conversation was taking place.

  “I really think you’re lying to me,” Jack said. “But look, I’m going to level with you. We know you did it. We have enough evidence and if you keep denying it, we’re going to have to make a whole big thing out of this. But if you just tell us right now…come clean and tell us—just the two of us—then we can make a neat little bust. You’ll get a slap on the wrist, maybe a few fines, but you won’t go to jail. Do you follow me?”

  “You expect me to believe a word you say?”

  “Hey, I don’t care one way or the other. Either way this goes down, we’re getting a bust. I’m a happy guy either way. You’re the one who gets to decide if this is going to be a long and drawn-out process or if it’s over for everyone—including you—in just a matter of hours.”

  Rachel could tell by the way Charlie’s eyes were looking all around that he was about to reveal something. But at the same time, she also noticed that he looked merely nervous. Whatever he was about to admit to might be criminal at its core, but it wasn’t going to be involvement of murder or malice.

  “There’s some taped to the back of the toilet,” Charlie said. “And then there’s some more on the underside of the drawer on the table on my bedside.”

  Drugs, then, Rachel thought. And certainly something more than pot or pills if he’s hiding it like this and takes off running at the mention of the FBI at his door. As far as Rachel was concerned, this meant he was very likely not their killer. Before she could allow the defeat of the moment to settle in over her, she jumped right back into their little performance.

  “And that’s it?” she said.

  “Yes, I swear.”

  Jack looked back at the house, solely coming out of character. “You made a good choice, Mr. Foster.”

  “Man…I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

  Charlie shook his head and looked through the window, out into the street. “My mom is sick, man. Cancer. She’s…she’s probably not going to beat it. The chemo helps, but…and the bills are just too damn ridiculous. I had to do something.”

  She could see Jack reaching for the door handle, likely intending to go inside to see what sort of drugs Charlie Foster was hiding. He looked a bit more upset about the way this had all played out than Rachel had expected.

  “Mr. Foster, just as a second-hand matter, can you tell us what you were doing yesterday afternoon between the hours of four and six?”

  At first, he seemed perplexed by the question but then put some thought into it. “I worked until five thirty yesterday. I left work and headed to Bull’s Bar—this bar me and Rosalie go to.”

  “Where do you work?

  “Townsend’s Auto Glass and Repair.”

  “So there would be at least one or two people to confirm that you were indeed there yesterday afternoon?”

  “Yeah. At least five.”

  “And how far away from work is the bar?”

  “Maybe five minutes. It’s why we go there…because it’s so close to my work.”

  “Was it busy when you got there?” Rachel asked.

  “Not really. Maybe a dozen or so people. But what does any of that have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe nothing,” Rachel said. “Just checking on something.”

  With a heavy sigh, Jack finally opened up his door. “Well, I’m going to head inside for bit to look those places over. I’ll be right back.”

  He closed the door a bit harder than was necessary and when he made his way back to the house, Rachel saw the rigid way he walked. He was irritated and upset, likely for a number of different reasons. She couldn’t help but feel bad, but at the same time, he’d brought some of it on himself.

  And speaking of feeling bad for people, she glanced back at Charlie Foster. He was also watching Jack walk back to his house and, like Jack, there was a defeated posture to him. Rachel’s heart actually went out to the man; he’d been pushed to dealing drugs to help pay for his mother’s medical bills. She supposed maybe his financial situation was why he’d had such a severe reaction when Life Fulfilled had informed him about the waiting list.

  She sat with Charlie Foster in silence, both of them now looking to the house as Jack stepped inside to investigate a crime they’d accidentally stumbled into—all while their killer was still free.

  ***

  With a much more agreeable Charlie Foster in the back of the bureau sedan, Jack drove Rachel home. When they exchanged a tense and brief goodbye, Charlie didn’t even seem to notice, and Rachel assumed he was far too bogged down in his own thoughts, probably starting to worry about his immediate future.

  Rachel walked through her front door just after 7:30. Grandma Tate and Paige were talking together in the kitchen. Rachel joined them, finding them huddled around a bowl of popcorn. She saw two plates in the sink, smeared with red from a simple spaghetti dinner.

  “Mommy!” Paige said, upon seeing her. She rushed over and gave her mother a hug, munching popcorn the entire time.

  “Hey, Paige. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here this evening.”

  “That’s okay. I went over to Suzanne’s house. We played Animal Crossing and then went outside and jumped rope. And then Grandma made spaghetti and then popcorn!”

  “I see. Sounds like you had a pretty great afternoon.”

  Paige nodded as she returned back to the bowl of popcorn. Rachel joined them at the table and the following fifteen minutes were spent with Paige recounting her day. They also took turns trying to toss popcorn in each other’s mouths. Paige seemed very happy, probably as happy as she’d been ever since her father had walked away. And as this understanding settled on her, Rachel realized that she hadn’t spoken to him in three weeks. They’d have to speak about how to carry on to start divorce proceedings soon enough and she wondered how to go about it while keeping Paige out of all of the drama.

  As 8 o’clock came around, Paige headed upstairs to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. With the sound of her footfalls over their heads on the second floor, Rachel and Grandma Tate tidied up for dinner. As she set the now-empty popcorn bowl in the sink, Rachel looked over to Grandma Tate, quite certain that things had seemed at least slightly off with her ever since she’d returned home.

  “I really do appreciate you helping me out this afternoon.”

  Grandma Tate shrugged it off, as if it were really no big deal at all. “One of the reasons I came to stay with you was so I could help you out.” She paused and leaned against the kitchen counter, a frown on her face. “Of course, I had no idea that you intended to keep working. Now, I’m inclined to say it’s none of my business, but seeing as how Paige is my great-granddaughter, I suppose it is partly my business. Your time is short and though she may not be acutely aware of it, she will come to understand it one day. She’ll come to understand than in your final days, you continued to choose work over her.”

  “But that’s not what I’m doing.” She was close to tears, maybe because the comments were a little closer to the truth than she cared to admit.

  “Are you sure about that, Rachel?” She paused for a moment, as if wondering if she’d gone too far with the comment. But she carried on, maybe thinking that now that the line had been crossed, she may as well forge on. “I don’t fault you for it. You’ve always been career-oriented, and I have no doubt it’s because of what you do—stopping bad people from doing bad things. I can’t imagine the sort of drive that puts into someone.”

  Grandma Tate surprised Rachel when she stepped forward and wrapped her in a small, fragile hug. “I’m here for you, doll. I always have been and always will be. Watching after Paige these past few weeks has been some of the happiest days of this latter part of my life. But as for me and you—I’m just worried about you, Rachel. I don’t want your final moments to be out on a case where that thing in your brain decides it’s had enough. If you’re truly coming to the end of your life, I do believe it needs to be with your daughter.”

  Rachel said nothing because she didn’t need to say anything. Everything Grandma Tate was saying were things Rachel had thought. She just wished it weren’t so damned hard to step away from her job.

  “Now,” Grandma Tate said. “I’ve said what I have to say. But you’re a grown woman, Rachel. You make your own decisions.”

  Rachel wiped a few tears away, nodding. “I know. This case Jack is working on now, the victims are—”

  “Nope,” Grandma Tate said, interrupting her. “I don’t need to hear about it, nor do I want to. But you do what you think is best for you. Just…well, please don’t forget that there’s a precious little girl back here. She’s doing fine, but she’s going to look back on this time and be very confused if you don’t sort things out soon.”

  That said, Grandma Tate gave a quick little nod and excused herself from the kitchen. Rachel sat down at the table by herself and let the words sink in. Nothing Grandma Tate had said was anything new, but hearing them spoken in such a loving way seemed to make it all feel new.

  Moments later, when she heard Paige’s footfalls coming back down the stairs, she walked into the living room. Paige was dressed in her pajamas and though she was clearly tired, she was smiling and doing her best to milk every extra minute she could.

  After saying goodnight to Grandma Tate, Paige took Rachel by the hand and led her upstairs. As Rachel tucked her in, Paige looked up at her with curious eyes. “Grandma Tate said you went somewhere with Jack…Jack from work. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So are you still working?” There was no accusatory tone in her little voice; she was legitimately curious.

  “Not like I used to. Jack just needed some help on this one case he’s working on.”

  “I bet he’d miss you if you stopped all the time.”

  “Yeah, I think he would, too.” She hugged Paige close and snuggled into the curve of her little neck and shoulders.

  “So don’t make him lonely,” Paige said.

  “Jack will be okay. Besides…don’t you want me here?”

  “I mean…sure, yeah. But can’t you still help him when I’m in school? You like your job, don’t you?”

 

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