“Yes, it is,” Rachel said, instantly suspicious. “When does your plane leave in the morning?”
“I’m not too sure, actually. I don’t have the reservation information in front of me. I believe it was ten o’clock, though.”
“Okay. So we’ll expect your call tomorrow.” She noticed Jack looking at her with confused eyes, as if to ask her: That’s it? Really?
“Yes, absolutely,” Dalton said.
Rachel hung up and instantly opened up Google. She typed in conferences, New York City, medical, psychology, and then the day’s date. As the results came up, she heard Jack chuckling from the driver’s seat. “Checking up on him?”
“Sure am.”
“You think he’s lying?”
“Sure do.”
She got three relevant hits based on her results. One was for a sports medicine clinic that was being put on by the NCAA. Another was a symposium that discussed the use of low-grade hallucinogenics on patients suffering from depression, and the other was specifically for cardiologists who were focusing on heart disease.
“Nothing here checks out,” she said. She then pulled up her Flights app and checked for all flights leaving New York City and arriving in Richmond, Virginia, tomorrow morning. There was one at 8:12 and the next closest one was 1:45. There were more between these two, but the destinations were Charlotte, NC, and Washington, DC—neither of which really made sense unless he was landing in DC and then driving to Richmond.
“See what you can do about finding his location based on the GPS on his phone,” Rachel said. She knew it was not only possible but that the bureau was getting better at these types of things, often getting results within half an hour.
“Seems a little aggressive,” Jack said.
“So does killing people based on the fact that they have terminal illnesses,” she pointed out.”
She listened as Jack made the call while she double-checked on the conferences she’d searched. She even opened up the search terms to any conferences and conventions at all. The number increased significantly but nothing was geared to patients at the end of their lives. Jack ended his call as she made her way through the list, passing by a comic book convention.
“Why would he lie about being in New York?” Jack wondered out loud.
“It’s a good question, but an even better question when you place it next to the fact that he’s got clients being murdered while he’s away. The timing simply doesn’t look very good for him.”
Jack nodded his agreement, giving his turn signal and pulling over into a shopping center parking lot. They were about seven miles from her house, so the move made her assume Jack was wanting to see how this all played out before he took her back home. And though she knew Paige would be home in a little under two hours, Rachel did not feel that sense of a ticking clock like she did yesterday. If there was any ticking clock at all, it was in regards to the case.
“It would make sense,” Jack said. “Let’s say he is the killer. If this trace comes back to show that he’s actually not in New York, that he’s still here in Richmond, that seems almost perfect, right? Maybe he’s been coming up with all manner of excuses so that he can go out and kill these people on his waiting list—a list that he’s not going to have any problem getting his hands on because he’s the one that oversees it.” He gave a nervous laugh and said, “Damn, he does seem like a likely candidate when you boil it down like that.”
“That’s along the lines of what I was thinking.” She was going to offer some more insight but she was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. Jack jumped a bit, reaching for his own, but stopped when he realized it was Rachel’s. The display told her it was Grandma Tate and her first thought was that something was wrong at school—that Paige had gotten sick. That, or maybe Grandma Tate’s cancer had come back.
Her nerves started to fire and spark as she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Rachel…hello.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. Perfectly fine. I was just wondering if you planned to be home after I pick Paige up from school.”
Rachel wasn’t sure, but she thought there might be a bit of accusation to the question. And while Rachel honestly didn’t blame her, it stung all the same. “I doubt it. But I should be home in time for dinner, unless something big comes up.”
“I see…”
“Is that okay? Do you need me to come home?”
There was no response for a while but after giving a sigh, Grandma Tate answered and this time, there was no doubt that there was some accusation behind it. “I’m not here to tell you how to live the rest of your life,” she said. “But I will say this: I love Paige to pieces and I don’t mind spending all of this time with her. But I did not decide to temporarily move in so that you could continue to go off and try to work yourself to your very last breath. I came to help you along in your time of need. But right now, if I’m being perfectly honest, I feel like you’re using my presence as another excuse to just retreat back to work.”
It all took Rachel a bit off guard. She didn’t think Grandma Tate had ever spoken to her like this. It made her feel like a little girl who had just gotten in trouble but it also made her feel deeply ashamed…and a little angry.
“Retreat?” she asked, finding it odd that of the entire lecture, that was the word that had hurt the most. She also became very aware that Jack was in the car with her, doing his best to occupy himself with his own phone and not get involved.
“Well, let’s be honest, dear. That’s what you’re doing. You’re afraid to slow down at work because you’ll have to actually face what’s coming your way and process it. I just thought you’d want to process it while spending time with your daughter.”