Page 23 of Her Last Refuge

"Give me a second." They both listened as Feldt made a few sounds under his breath, the uh huh and mmm hmm sounds of someone looking for something. "Okay, I've got him. Last night, he clocked in 8:52, and then out a 6:04. Then three nights ago, clocked in at 8:59, out at 6:01. He was here both nights for the full shifts.”

"Were there any breaks longer than fifteen minutes on either night? Anything that would've let him leave the building for an extended period?"

"Not that I'm seeing. We had a late truck both those nights, so everybody was on the floor the whole shift. I remember that specifically, because I was chewing people out to keep moving." Feldt's voice had a note of pride in it, the satisfaction of a man who ran a tight operation. "Besides,” he added, “the system logs it automatically when he badges the dock door. Can't fudge that without physically not being here."

"That's helpful," Rachel said. "Thank you for your time."

"Sure. He do something?"

"We're just ruling people out," Rachel said. “But for now, it seems he didn’t. Thanks again.”

As she ended the call, Novak leaned back against the headrest. "Well. That's a dead end."

"It is," Rachel agreed, looking out at Roberts's small house through the windshield. "His alibi's airtight both nights, and whatever anger he's got left, it was never pointed at a person. It was the place."

"So where does that leave us?"

"Nowhere good. We've got two victims, no real suspect, and a facility full of people who could theoretically have had opportunity but no motive we can point to." Rachel rubbed at the back of her neck, feeling the day catch up to her all at once.

“It’s a longshot,” Novak said, “but we could stake out Ashford Glen tonight. If somebody's targeting residents there and it's not staff, then whoever it is has to be getting in from outside somehow.”

“But we didn’t see anything on the security recordings.” Even as she said it, she knew what Novak’s rebuttal would be…and he didn’t disappoint.

“But we know that not every angle of that building is covered by cameras. Maybe someone else found that out, too.”

She had to admit that a stakeout was a good idea…though a bit unorthodox. "I can call it in with Anderson,” she said. Rachel pulled her phone out of her pocket, then hesitated, glancing at Novak. "Give me a second, though. If we’re really going to do this, I need to call Jack."

“Of course.”

She stepped out of the car and walked a few feet away, toward the neighboring house. She dialed Jack and he picked up on the third ring.

"Hey," he said. "You’re calling at nearly six. Can I assume that means you won’t be home for dinner? Is tonight one of those nights?"

"It's one of those nights," Rachel said. "I'm sorry. We caught a lead that fell apart, and now Novak and I are going to stakeout the scene. I don't think I'll be home until morning."

There was a short pause on his end, not annoyed exactly, just the sound of her husband processing the news. "Okay. I'll handle Paige. Not too much coffee and sugar before bed."

“Maybe a little coffee would be permissible,” Rachel said with a smile.

“Man, I tell you…late nights like the one you’re about to endure makes me glad I took this desk job.”

“You’re getting too soft.”

“And I’ll be nice and soft in my bed by eleven tonight. Can’t say the same for you. Be careful out there.”

“I will,” she said. “I love you. And tell Paige I love her. Tell her I'll make it up to her this weekend."

"I will.”

They said goodbye, and Rachel took a moment to allow herself to feel the guilt and disappointment that always came from a moment like this. But before it could grip her too tightly, she then called Anderson to get approval for the stakeout.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Just after midnight, the interior of the car had started to feel more like a stagnant cave. The engine was off, and though it was slightly chilly outside, the windows were cracked. The feel of the car was nothing new to Rachel. She’d been on several stakeouts before and was used to the feeling. Her back was already starting to hurt, and she was having to pay extra attention just to make sure she didn't lose her focus.

Rachel knew that stakeouts had a way of stretching time until hours and minutes started to become almost meaningless. The first hour always felt purposeful. You checked sight lines, tested the radio, ran through contingencies. By the second hour, the mind started looking for something to do with itself. By the third, every small sound became interesting: the tick of the cooling engine, the faint hum of a distant highway, the buzzing and chirps of nearby insects.

She sat in the driver’s seat with her coat still on and her hands resting loosely on her thighs, watching the west side of Ashford Glen. A pair of security lights in the main parking lot barely reached that far, their glow softening shadows slightly but not truly revealing the area. She would look back over to those lights every few minutes just to keep her senses attuned and sharp.