Page 10 of Her Last Refuge

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rachel’s cellphone rang at 6:10, and she surfaced from sleep with her heart already pounding before she understood why. Probably because when her phone rang this early, it was almost never good. Jack shifted beside her and groaned. It was only twenty minutes before they usually woke up, but twenty minutes of sleep was still twenty minutes of sleep.

She grabbed the phone off the nightstand and saw Anderson's name on the screen. “This is Agent Gift,” she answered.

"Sorry for the early call." Anderson's voice was brisk, the voice he used when he wanted to get through something quickly. "Local PD out in Brandermill reached out to us this morning. There's a facility called Ashford Glen, a memory care place. Two residents have died in their sleep in the past four days."

Rachel sat up, pulling the sheets off her legs. For a second, she thought maybe Anderson had found out what she'd done, and there would be a lecture forthcoming. But as her mind became more and more awake, she understood that wasn't the case at all. What was really going on was that it looked like Caleb Durst had just cause to worry.

She hated being dishonest to Anderson, so she did her best to simply stay in the role of an agent taking in new information. "Two deaths at a place like that isn't unusual, is it? Given the population."

"That's what I'd have said too, except both bodies were found staged the same way. Hands folded on the chest, positioned like they were laid out for a viewing. And apparently both were in decent health up until it happened. No history that would explain a sudden decline."

She felt something settle low in her stomach, cold and immediate. She thought of the folder Warrick had turned to face her two nights before, the photograph of Ruth Durst's hands laced together on top of the blanket. She said nothing about it, of course.

"You still there?" Anderson asked.

"I'm here. Just listening."

"I want you to head over there this morning, take a look, talk to the staff. Local PD is willing to let us in on it, but I don't think they have the manpower or the appetite to run this down properly if it turns into something. Take Novak with you."

"I'll call him now."

"Keep me posted." Anderson hung up without further ceremony.

Rachel sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, phone still in her hand. Two deaths would be unfortunate and very sad, sure. But the staging of the bodies in that same way…it was too weird to be anything natural. It made her wonder if she’d missed something during her covert visit yesterday.

Jack sat up in bed beside her. He squinted at her, his hair in disarray. "Everything okay?"

"Work," she said. "I have to go in."

“And an early morning call, at that,” he said. “That can’t be good.”

He gently scratched her back as she dialed Novak, and then he got out of bed to start his morning. Rachel listened to the phone ring while she pulled clothes out of the closet, the phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear. He picked up on the fourth ring, his voice thick with sleep.

"This better be good."

"Two residents dead at a memory care facility out in Brandermill,” she said. “Both found with their hands folded on their chests, staged the same way. Anderson wants us out there this morning."

“Yeah, that’s a weird one.” She heard him shift, then heard something clatter softly in the background. "Give me the address, and I'll meet you."

"I'll pick you up instead. Twenty minutes."

"I can do that. I’ll put on coffee. Want some?”

“Yes, please. See you in a bit.”

She hung up and carried the phone with her into the bathroom, setting it on the counter while she slapped on the bare minimum of makeup and got her hair into working order. Jack came in a minute later, toothbrush already in his mouth, and they settled into the small, practiced choreography of two people trying to use the same sink at once. She reached past him for her toothpaste. He stepped back to let her get to the mirror, then leaned in around her to spit.

"I've got Paige this morning," he said, rinsing his brush under the tap. "You're not going to make it back before school, are you?"

"Doubt it. I don't even know how long I'll be out there." She pulled her hair back into a loose knot, studying herself in the mirror for a second before turning to grab a towel. "Can you handle drop-off? I know you've got that call at nine."

"I can push the call back thirty minutes. It's fine." He dried his face and draped the towel over the rod. "She's got that Algebra quiz today.”

“Oh, I know. I tried my best to help her practice last night.”

"Did she seem okay about it?" Jack asked.