Page 17 of Her Last Refuge

“Looks like Miriam came through quicker than I’d expected,” she said as she opened it. They paused at the car as she scanned through the attachments, a long list of files, resident charts, staff logs, and security footage exports organized by date and camera location.

Below the attachments was a short message.

Agent Gift,

Everything you requested is attached. I've also included footage from the exterior and common area cameras for the past three weeks, per your request.

One additional note: Dr. Gerald Ives, our founder and director, is arriving on site at 1:00 today and will be here for several hours. He's asked to speak with you and Agent Novak directly if you have the chance.

Miriam

Rachel showed the screen to Novak, who read it over her shoulder and checked his own watch. “Yeah,” he said. “As long as he’s there for a few hours, I don’t see why not. Maybe he’ll have something useful.”

“Maybe,” Rachel said. But as they got into the car, she suspected the founder and director of a place like Ashford Glen would only have one thing on their mind in the midst of two suspicious deaths: saving his own ass.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The conference room at Ashford Glen sat at the end of the administrative wing on the second floor, a space Rachel hadn't seen on either of her previous visits. It was smaller than she expected for a facility of this size, boasting a rectangular table with eight chairs and a single window that looked out over the parking lot. A framed photograph of the building's groundbreaking hung on one wall, with a much younger Miriam standing beside a man in a suit holding an oversized pair of ceremonial scissors.

Miriam was already seated when Rachel and Novak walked in, and she stood briefly to gesture them toward two chairs across the table. An older man, presumably Gerald Ives, was seated at the opposite side of the table. He looked to be in his seventies, silver-haired and tan in a way that suggested regular time outdoors rather than a tanning bed. He was dressed sharply in a blazer that fit him perfectly and he wore khakis with black sneakers. He extended a hand to Rachel first, then Novak, his grip firm and lingering half a second longer than necessary.

"Agent Gift, Agent Novak,” Miriam said, “This is Mr. Gerald Ives."

After hands were shook, Ives returned to his seat in a way that Rachel found both casual and somehow overly confident, like a man accustomed to every room arranging itself around him. "I appreciate you both taking the time to sit with me. I know you're in the middle of something difficult."

"We appreciate you wanting to speak with us," Rachel said. "I understand you founded Ashford Glen."

"Nineteen years ago, though it feels like both longer and shorter than that depending on the day." He smiled, easy and practiced, the kind of smile that had likely opened a great many doors for him over the years. "I was a physician for most of my career, internal medicine, and I watched a lot of families struggle to find decent memory care for their parents. Most of what existed felt clinical, cold. I wanted to build something better and if I do say so myself, I think we've done that."

"It's a beautiful facility," Rachel said.

"Thank you. We've put a great deal into it." He folded his hands on the table, his expression shifting toward something more measured. "Which is precisely why this situation concerns me so deeply…and why I appreciate your due diligence. Miriam's told me what's happened, what you've found so far. Two residents dead within four days of one another with what appears to be apparent staging of the bodies. Is that right?”

"It is," Rachel agreed. "We're still working to understand the full scope of it."

"Of course." Ives leaned back slightly. "I have to ask something, and I hope you'll understand the spirit in which I'm asking.”

“Sure.”

“What's your sense of how contained this can stay? I'm thinking of the families we currently serve, and frankly, of the families considering us for the placement of a loved one. If a story like this gets out ahead of the facts, it could do real damage. Not just to the business, though I won't pretend that isn't a consideration. I’m more concerned for the people who live here. Their families already carry enough anxiety about this stage of life without wondering if the place they've chosen is somehow unsafe."

Rachel kept her expression neutral, not quite sure she believed these to be his true concerns. "Our priority right now is figuring out what happened to Ruth Durst and Howard Pelham,” she answered. “That has to come first."

"Naturally. I'm not suggesting otherwise." He spread his hands, palms up, in a gesture meant to look as if he meant no harm—the same gesture a man might make to show he wasn’t armed. "I only mean that discretion serves everyone's interests here, including the investigation. Once the press gets hold of something like this, people start talking. Staff get nervous, families begin to pull residents out, and you end up working against a wall of noise instead of the facts."

"We're aware of how that dynamic works, Dr. Ives,” Novak said. His voice was even, but there was an edge under it. "We're not looking to hold a press conference. But our job is the investigation—to find out if there is indeed a killer at work here. We’re not overly concerned with the facility's image."

"Of course, of course." Ives's smile stayed in place, though something behind it tightened slightly. "I only raise it because I've built something meaningful here, and I'd hate to see it undone by speculation before anyone actually understands what's happened. If there is a killer at work or anything untoward occurring in my facility, of course I want it handled and it should take top priority But you have to understand that I also have a business here that I’d really like to not take any unwarranted beatings."

Miriam shifted in her seat but said nothing, her eyes moving between Ives and Rachel like she was gauging how the conversation was going to land. It was the first time since meeting the woman yesterday that she had seen Miriam visibly uncomfortable.

"Miriam sent over the security footage and records we requested this morning," Rachel said, steering the conversation deliberately. "She’s been very helpful in that regard. We'll be reviewing that alongside the medical examiner's findings and should have more information by then. We’ll make sure to keep you looped in on information as soon as it’s discovered."

Ives's expression shifted, the warmth cooling by a degree. "I’d appreciate that. And, at the same time, it makes me want to raise a concern, if I may.”

“Of course,” Rachel said, even though she was starting to feel angry.

“That security footage includes residents in common areas, some of whom are not part of your investigation in any way. I'm not sure the facility was in a position to authorize handing that over without more formal process. Our residents' privacy is something we take extremely seriously."