by Blake Pierce
“What’s the potential link between them all?” one of the men asked.
Jack quickly ran through the fertility treatments discovery and all three men seemed to grasp it and get on the same page right away. “I’ll be coming out with you guys,” Jack said. “Agent Gift, what’s your preference?”
“I’ll be on standby,” she said. “I’ll be looking into the clinic staff, but I’m also only a phone call away. This killer is striking quickly and without much hesitation. We have to assume he’s planning another murder tonight.”
Jack clapped his hands together and gave a knowing look of approval to the three officers. Sometimes Rachel was awed by how well he could connect with people; strangers tended to warm to him right away.
“Agent Gift and I tend to make meetings as fast as possible,” he said. “So let’s run these names, get addresses and phone numbers, and head out.”
The officers did as asked, and Rachel could feel the dedication pretty much coming off of them, spurred by nothing more than a few words from Jack and a simple set of instructions. Jack made his way to the door, looking back at Rachel.
“You going to be okay by yourself for a bit?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ll manage without you.”
He gave her a sarcastic wink and headed out of the door. Standing in the conference room by herself, it was far too tempting to take one of the chairs and just zone out—to let the weight of the last twenty-four hours or so melt off of her. But she meant what she’d just told the officers—that based on the way this killer was behaving, they had so move as if they thought he would kill tonight as well.
She spent the next several minutes working with the receptionist of the precinct to procure a laptop, WiFi and internal server access, and a workspace. As all of that was being set up, Rachel placed a call to the clinic and, after a tense conversation with a manager and giving her badge number, got a full list of the staff members that worked at Regency Fertility Clinic. She hated the way she felt when she got off of the phone. Before this case was over, every single employee of that clinic was going to always be suspicious of the FBI or any other branch of law enforcement.
Working on a newer model of laptop at a cubicle near the back of what she supposed was meant to be the station bullpen, Rachel ran background checks on each employee. It took some getting used to the layout of the precinct’s servers but it came pretty easily. When she was done about an hour and a half later, she’d discovered pretty much what she’d expected: exactly nothing. There were a few speeding tickets and one restraining order placed by one of the nurses, but nothing substantial.
When her options were exhausted, she looked to the list of names the clinic had sent over. Thirty-one employees, twenty-six of which were women. And while they all had squeaky clean records, that was not quite enough to sway Rachel’s initial thought—that there might be an employee working with the killer, passing along the names of women getting these fertility treatments.
It was a terrible assumption to jump to, but it was the only thing that made sense so far. Besides, right now assumptions were all she had to work with. It was just one of the many ways the killer currently had a massive upper hand.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rachel was digging through records for the past three years, looking for any cases in which pregnant women had been the target of crimes, when her phone rang. When she saw it was Peter, she almost ignored it. But she never ignored his calls unless she was in a position where her phone was on silent mode. She wasn’t sure why her heart was pounding nervously when she answered it. Was keeping this secret from him going to cause her to feel this nervous and guilty every time they spoke?
“Hey, Peter,” she answered.
“Hey yourself. You get there okay? Everything going fine?”
“Except for the nature of the case itself…yes, everything is fine.”
This was something of a routine. He’d promised her early in her marriage that even when she became an active agent and was always on the road, he was going to check in on her, to let her know that someone was thinking about her back home. It had been a terribly romantic gesture back then but, from time to time, felt more burdensome than anything else. Still, she took it for what it was—a sign that he loved her deeply.
“Good. How’s Jack?”
“He’s Jack,” she said. She knew she was sounding short, and tried to curb it. Apparently, Peter noticed, too, because he hurried up and got to the point.
“So, this is awkward,” he said, “but I need to know for planning purposes. There’s this massive edit we need to undertake on a proposal. It needs to go out tomorrow or our bid won’t be accepted. I’ve told them I might be able to help. I had a look at the ovulation calendar and saw that tonight is a peak night. If you need my…er, services at home, I won’t volunteer to help with the edit.”
“If you’re asking if this case is going to have me back home tonight, I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s not a single lead and it’s…well, it’s looking to be a very involved one. I’d guess three days at least.”
“Oh.”
He’d long ago gotten used to her sudden multiple day disappearances because of spur-of-the-moment cases and handled it like a champ. She did hear a bit of hurt in his single syllable response, though.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll tell you the details when I can, when the case is wrapped—”
“No, really, it’s okay. I didn’t want to help with the edit anyway. The baby-making part, though…yeah, I’ll miss that.”
She couldn’t come up with an appropriate response. She was suddenly back in Regency Fertility Clinic, seeing those hopeful faces and knowing that would never be her again…knowing she would likely not even be alive a year from now.
And then, like a ghost swooping into her mind, the face of Alex Lynch was in her head, smiling at her and studying her, his eyes magnified through his glasses.
What the hell is that about? she wondered.
“There’s always next month,” she said, finally, pushing that haunting face out of her mind.
“Yeah, but is there?” he said. It sounded a bit pained, and rather snappy.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed on the other end. “Nothing,” he said. “I just…it doesn’t seem like you’re too interested, and that makes me feel like I’m pressuring you.”
“Not at all,” she said, sensing an argument right around the corner and trying to stave it off. “But we knew my schedule was going to play a part in how—and if—our plans worked out.”
“I know,” he said curtly. “This just…it just sucks.”
She didn’t know what to say. Just about anything would turn this into a full-fledged argument and that was not something she had time to deal with right now. Thankfully, Peter seemed to know this, too.
“I’ll let you go. Sounds like you’ve got a big one on your hands.”
“Thanks. I love you, Peter.”
“Love you, too, Go get those bad guys.”
He hung up with what had become almost like a tagline for him over the last few years when she was not at home. Go get those bad guys.
She looked to the list of staff members, wondering if any of any of them were the bad guys.
She was staring at the list for only a moment when someone approached her from behind. She turned to find Jack standing there, holding a Starbucks cup.
“Got you one of those green tea latte nonsense you like,” he said, offering it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, taking it gratefully.
“So, do you want me to pretend I didn’t hear the last ten seconds or so of that conversation?”
“It doesn’t matter. When sex isn’t just about sex anymore—when you throw that whole baby-making business in, too—it becomes a really odd sort of minefield.”
“He jealous of the job right now?”
“I don’t think so. He’s just pretty excited about the idea of another kid and it’s like anything e
lse in his life. He wants it, so he expects it now. The fact that I didn’t get pregnant four months ago when we started trying really bothered him. And now, it’s—”
She stopped here because what she wanted to mention next was how it was going to be even harder to tell him her most recent truth—the truth of why she knew a second child was not an option. Of course, if she’d told Jack about the cancer prognosis, she could get it out; she could word vomit all over him. But she’d kept the secret from him, and it now seemed like she’d made the right decision because being dealt such devastating news while now being involved on a case concerning fertility was a—
“Hold on,” she said quietly. She took a sip from her green tea latte and sitting up straight.
“Yes?” Jack asked. “Has a lightbulb just gone off?”
“Maybe.” She tapped the list of staff employees and said, “Maybe none of the clinic employees has a record, but maybe one of them does have another reason to loathe women who are looking to bring life into the world.”
Jack looked at her with great curiosity from over the top of his own Starbucks drink. “Sorry,” he said after he swallowed it down “I don’t follow.”
She checked her watch. It was 4:32….still enough time.
“Come on,” she said, getting to her feet. “We’re heading back to the clinic.”
***
Rachel was pleased to see that the protestors had dispersed since they’d first visited the clinic. When they parked and walked inside, it was in the quiet of the afternoon. Rachel took the opportunity to relax herself, knowing that the line she was about to tread was a fragile one.
“You want to fill me in now?” Jack asked as he followed her across the lot.
“What do you remember about the receptionist we spoke to?”
He thought for a moment and said, “Not sure. Wasn’t she wearing something over her head? Like a bandana or something?”
They were at the front door by then, so Rachel only nodded as she walked inside the clinic. Being that it was now the end of the day, there were no lines at the windows. Behind one of the windows, three women were speaking quietly. To the far left, Rachel saw the receptionist they’d spoken to before. She was typing something into her laptop but looked up to them when they approached. There was an initial look of confusion which she then tried to replace with a smile. Rachel barely noticed, though; she was eyeing the blue bandana on her head.
“Forget something?” the receptionist asked.
Rachel detected some anger. It made sense; they’d essentially tried pushing her to get them the list of names that she had fought against.
“No, we didn’t forget anything,” Rachel said. “But I was wondering if we could speak with you.”
“With me? Why?”
“Just a few questions about the case. In private would be preferable.”
“I don’t understand what you need to speak with me about.”
“Just a formality,” Rachel said, already feeling rather bad about what was to come.
It was clear that the idea made her uncomfortable, but the receptionist leaned back in her chair and looked in the direction of the chatting women on the other side of the partition. “Hey, Giana, can you take my window for a second? I need to chat with these people.”
She got up angrily and came around the partition. She nodded to the right, where there was a small waiting area. It was empty and already straightened up for tomorrow’s business hours, the magazines all neatly stacked and the smell of disinfectant in the air. It was not a general waiting room, but the sort a patient might sit in while waiting for an outcome. For Rachel, it brought up images of her doctor’s visit the day before and a chill passed through her.
“What’s your name?” Jack asked as they all walked into the room. His voice was low and level. It was his way, Rachel supposed, of trying to fit into the scene. He was clearly confused—and that was Rachel’s fault.
“Amber Seibert.”
“Amber, how long have you worked here?” Rachel asked.
“This is year number eight.”
“You like it?”
“I love it…most days. Of course, it’s never fun when you are speaking with women that are learning they may never be able to have children.”
“Forgive me for pointing this out,” Rachel said, “but I couldn’t help but notice the bandana.” She took a breath, realizing she was about to cross a line. She was typically pretty good about knowing when to toe a line, but she felt a sense of urgency for this case that she was pretty sure was spurred on by her diagnosis. “Is it cancer? Are you taking chemotherapy?”
She was surprised when Amber didn’t get angry. She just nodded and, almost with a bit of flair, took the bandana off to reveal her bald head. “Yeah. Chemo. I lost my hair, but I also lost about twenty-five pounds. I’d call it even.” She grinned here, but there was no real humor in it.
“Did you miss a lot of time from work for the chemo?”
“Some. But everyone here has been very supportive, so there were no problems.”
“Well, with your prognosis and having to deal with it all, it must have been difficult to come into work—to a place where you are around people trying to bring life into the world while you were fighting for your own, right?”
She could feel Jack shifting uncomfortably beside her, tensing up. In front of her, Amber cocked her head and looked quizzically at her. “No, not at all. In fact, I—”
The silence was deafening as she understood what was being asked of her. Slowly, a grim line of anger set across her mouth.
“Are you seriously suggesting that I…that…no. No, this is not only insulting, but an embarrassing breach of privacy.”
“You have to understand where I’m coming from,” Rachel said. “We are dealing with a killer that seems to have something against bringing life into the world that—”
“No!” Amber was to her feet now, glaring at them. “If you stop right now I’ll consider not taking your names and contacting your supervisor. And not that it’s any of your fucking business, but my day consists of coming to work and then heading home where I’m asleep by eight o’ clock because the chemo treatments have wiped out any excess energy I might have. I might currently be in remission, but the draining nature of it sticks with you. I have my husband, my two children, and a neighbor that helps out that can back my story up.”
“Amber,” Jack said, just as shocked as she was. “We don’t mean to—”
“Goodbye,” she shouted as she walked through the door. “If I see either of you again, I will press charges.”
She left the waiting area in an awkward silence. Jack got to his feet and looked out of the window that gave them a view of the edge of the parking lot. Without looking to Rachel, he said, “With all due respect, what in the hell was that all about?”
“Like I told her: someone is killing women based on their desire to bring new life into this world.”
“And?”
“And the killer is getting the names somehow. What better place to look than a woman that works at the same clinic that has been staring death in the face?”
Saying it out loud, she realized how heartless it might have seemed. She also once again found herself on the verge of emotionally breaking at the mention of staring death in the face.
“Rachel, I know you well enough to know when something is wrong. You don’t think like that. And even if you did, you’d talk it out first and you’d sure as hell have more compassion.”
“Jack, I—”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” he said, finally turning to face her. “I don’t know if it’s the baby stuff with Peter, or something else. But I ask you as your partner and your friend to please get it together.”
He looked to her for a moment and she was relieved to see more worry and compassion than outright anger in his eyes. He walked out without saying another word. Rachel got to her feet but she stood there in the silence a moment longer before she headed
out after him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Things were quiet in the car as they left the clinic. The few words that were spoken were all strictly related to the case—in deciding to check in with all of the units that were currently working to watch over the five names on the list for fertility treatments. As they made their way to the first address, she was again overcome with the need to tell Jack. But whenever she would start to form the words, a feeling of hopelessness would come over here. She sensed that coming clean with her prognosis would not draw a weight away from her shoulders, but would add on another. Did she really want to work with a partner that was always worrying about how she was feeling, thinking she might literally keel over at any moment?
She was wresting with this as she pulled her car in behind the police patrol car sitting outside the home of the first woman on the list. When she and Jack got out of the car to speak to the officer in charge of the check-in for this particular shift, there was still an icy sort of wall between them.
They approached the driver’s side door, and the cop rolled his window down. “Hey, agents.”
“Anything to report?” Rachel asked
“Not on my end, nope. Both the woman and her husband seemed grateful that we were taking precautions. Last I talked to the others, it’s mostly the same. There was one lady—a Gena Reed—that was pissed because her husband didn’t know she was taking the treatments. But I think that turned out well, too.”
“Need any assistance?” Jack asked.
“No. We’ve got it all scheduled out. Sort of like miniature stakeouts around each home until this is wrapped up.”
“Call us if any of that changes,” Rachel said. “And if anything out of the ordinary should pop up.”
The cop gave a satisfied nod and rolled his window back up. Rachel and Jack returned to their car and Rachel instantly pointed the car in the direction of the precinct.
“It was a good idea, in theory,” Jack said out of nowhere.