Page 5 of Her Last Refuge

"I know how it sounds." There was a thread of frustration in his voice now, restrained but present. Not quite angry…not yet. "I'm not saying someone did something to her. I don't have any proof of that. I just... I keep thinking about how fine she seemed, and then this happened, and everyone around me is acting like there's nothing more to ask about."

Rachel thought of Eleanor then, unbidden. The unsent letter. The years spent circling something she couldn't say out loud, or wouldn't. Being told her father had died one way but suspecting something much more sinister. The parallel was hard to ignore. She thought about how easy it would be to nod along to a story that made sense on paper and let it end there.

"I hear you," she said instead. "And I'm not dismissing what you're feeling. But I have to be honest with you: I can't just start looking into your grandmother's death. It's not a case that's been assigned to me. It's not even in federal jurisdiction unless there's something the local police have flagged, and it sounds like they haven't. If the medical examiner and the police looked at this and didn't find anything that raised concerns, that usually means there wasn't anything there to find."

"Right." His voice had gone flat, the frustration folding back into something quieter and more resigned. "No, I get it. I just thought I'd ask."

"I really am sorry, Caleb. About Ruth, and about not being able to do more here. If it helps at all, if the police do find something later, or if something changes, you can always call the local department back and push for more. Give them my name if you want. Sometimes it takes a family member being persistent."

"Sure. Yeah." There was a sound from the other end that sounded somewhere between a sigh and whimper. "Well, I appreciate you picking up, at least. And I'm sorry to bother you."

"You're not bothering me. I mean that." She meant it more than the sentence probably conveyed, actually. "Take care of yourself. And give my condolences to your mom, if that's alright."

"I will. Thanks."

The call ended, and Rachel set the phone down on the desk beside the bag of unopened chips. She hadn't known Ruth well, and they’d only spoken to one another a handful of times in passing. Usually when family like Ruth or Caleb came to visit, she’d leave the room; it was a practice she kept with all of the patients she’d visited.. She did remember that Ruth would bring in small plates of cookies for the hospice staff every now and then.

And now she was gone, just like her husband. It was a small loss in the scheme of the world, a woman in her late seventies who'd been ill for a while and who had, by every account available, died the same way a large percentage of people her age did.

And yet something about the call sat wrong in her chest and made her feel uneasy. She thought of Caleb's voice, careful and restrained, trying not to say more than he had proof for as he kept his emotions in check. She thought of the way he'd circled the real accusation without ever quite landing on it, the same way Eleanor's letter had circled Farrell's name without ever writing it down. Grief did that to people sometimes. She knew this better than most. It made them reach for an explanation with more meaning to it than shit happens, sorry for your loss.

Rachel pushed the bag of chips to the edge of her desk, her appetite suddenly gone. She glanced at the clock, then back at her monitor, where the incident report from the rookie agent still sat half-finished on the screen.

She made herself pick up where she'd left off, forcing her attention back onto her work. But in the background of her thoughts, part of her stayed on the phone call for a long time afterward, unsettled in a way she could not quite explain. And she knew if she let it come to the front of everything, it might just sink its hooks in just like Eleanor’s favor had.

CHAPTER FOUR

Novak leaned into her doorway at 2:30, one hand braced against the frame. There was an almost childlike expression on his face—like a man who already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask.

"Tell me you're free," he said.

Rachel glanced up from the rookie's report, which she'd been staring at for the better part of twenty minutes without actually reading a word of it. It had actually required her to do a bit of background research, which had been the most exciting part of her day. "Depends what for."

"I've got a lead to run down on the Marsten thing. Two hours out, give or take." He checked his watch and gave a shrug. "I can handle it myself, obviously. But it's dead as a graveyard around here today, and I figured misery loves company."

"That's a generous way to describe asking me to sit in a car with you for four hours...to pursue a lead on a case we both know won’t amount to much."

"True. But what if I buy coffee on the way?"

She considered it for a moment. It would sure as hell beat sitting around here, trying to pretend she wasn’t obsessed with Eleanor’s mystery or the call she’d received from Caleb Durst.

“It makes the proposal more tempting, I’ll give you that? But I think my body has gotten accustomed to the lag of this place today. If I go along as a passenger—even with fresh coffee—I feel like I’d probably end up taking a nap. I wouldn’t be very good company.”

He grinned, unbothered, and let out an exaggerated sigh. "So is that a no?"

She gave it one last bit of thought, thinking it might be a great way to finally tell him about the unofficial case she’d taken on for Eleanor. Hell, it might be helpful to get his take on it. But for now, as odd as it seemed, she felt that the Eleanor case belonged to her and Paige. More than that, though, she had already toyed with an idea for how she was going to spend the rest of the afternoon when she was done with this report. She knew Assistant Director Anderson might not approve, but she also didn’t think he’d ask too many questions on a dead day like today.

"I'll pass," she said. "But I appreciate you thinking of me."

"Your loss." He straightened up, already halfway back into the hallway. "If I find something, I'm putting your name on it anyway so you don't feel left out."

"Please don't."

"Too late, already decided." He slapped on the doorframe for dramatic effect. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"I'll try to restrain myself."

As she watched him leave, she smiled herself. It was remarkable how quickly they’d bonded. She recalled thinking he was too safe and a little dorky when Anderson had first paired them up when she’d come back to work. Now, he had become not just a reliable partner, but a good friend as well.