Her Last Wish (A Rachel Gift FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

by Blake Pierce

  “I hate these interrogations,” Jack said as they met in the hallway.

  “What…the ones where we basically gloat about our victory?” Rachel asked.

  “Sort of, but no. It’s more like ‘hey, we know it was you but let’s see how many bullshit ways you can think of to try to worm your way out of it.’ It’s always feels like a waste of time.”

  “Then I’ll take the lead on it,” Rachel said, reaching for the door.

  Before she could open it, Jack stopped her. “What happened back there? I saw it through the window. You were about to pass out or faint or something. So what’s going on?”

  “I have no idea what that was about,” she said. “Maybe not enough sleep. Maybe not—”

  “You’re lying. I say that with as much friendliness as I can, but it’s true. I don’t know what you’re not telling me, but if it’s going to affect your work and our partnership, I think I have a right to know.”

  Her heart broke a bit at hearing this, but she kept the lie straight and on the surface. “I’m fine,” she said.

  “So fine that you thought it was a smart idea to go visit Alex Lynch?”

  There was more than just a bit of bite to the comment, but Rachel let it go. She opened the door to the interrogation room and Rachel stepped inside. After a moment’s hesitation, Jack joined her.

  When they stepped inside, they saw that another officer had already been in to give Claire water, a pack of cheese crackers, and a box of tissues. Her eyes were red from crying and she looked exhausted. She studied both agents with equal scrutiny and when she was done, seemed not to care.

  “Ms. Allen,” Rachel said, “I’m going to ask you what may sound like a stupid question, but I need to make sure. Do you know why you’re here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’d like to hear it from you, though.”

  “I had broken into that woman’s house. Cassie McNeil. And I was going to kill her. But you came in and stopped me.”

  “Sounds accurate,” Rachel said. “And this wasn’t the first time, was it?”

  Claire shook her head slowly and her face seemed to go through several different emotions all at once. One moment it seemed she might start crying again, and the next it seemed like she might start screaming and cursing at them.

  “We were told by a supervisor at Regency Fertility Clinic that there was recently a disturbance with you coming in to ask about your donated eggs. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Claire snapped. And with that response, it seemed that her mind and her face had finally decided on a single emotion: anger. “Yes…I personally have never had any interest in having children. I work with them and that’s enough for me. Most of them are quite pleasant, I guess…but some are fucking nightmares. And yes, the bad apples are enough to spoil the whole bunch for me. But at the same time, I know there are women out there that want to have kids but can’t. So I figured I could help in that regard. I decided to donate my eggs. Honestly, the financial gain was the biggest reason but…”

  She sneered here, as if she might be a little upset with herself. “For some reason, I started thinking of women using my eggs…a part of my body…it made me mad and it made me wonder. It made me think…maybe I would want kids at some point.”

  She started shaking her head here and there was a certain way her eyes trailed back and forth, the way little smiles started to form at the corners of her mouth and then disappeared, that made Rachel wonder if there was some sort of legitimate mental break that had occurred. Not too long ago, she’d read a case study about how sometimes people that donated things like kidneys would start to feel almost incomplete and even regret their decision to donate. It made her wonder if that was exactly what happened here, only on a much grander scale.

  “Oh, but it just wasn’t happening for me,” Claire went on. “I reconnected with a man I almost married and tried to get pregnant. When it didn’t work, I ended things with him and tried someone else. I even went out of the state to see if I could be artificially inseminated and that didn’t work.”

  She slammed her hand down hard on the table as she spoke these last three words. Then she looked to Rachel and Jack with a stubborn, defiant look in her eye. It was almost as if she was daring them to ask her more questions.

  “You used a Facebook group, didn’t you?” Rachel asked.

  Surprise flickered in Claire’s eyes at that and then a dulled sort of acceptance. “I did. And it worked. All these stupid women just broadcasting what they had planned. Asking for prayer and positive thoughts.”

  Claire had not yet asked for a lawyer and the more she spoke, the easier it seemed to come to her. She had either accepted her fate and did not care or had no real idea of the severity of her crimes.

  “Ms. Allen,” Rachel said. “You know what this means, right? Now that you’re here and have told us all of this. You know what—”

  “It means I was sloppy in the way I planned, I supposed,” she said. “And that I’ll go jail.” She snickered at this in a maniacal way, as if the world itself was unfair and she was the victim—just like she’d said back in Cassie McNeil’s kitchen. “Even though I was the one having things stolen, I’m the villain here.”

  “With all due respect,” Jack said from beside Rachel, “I think the three murders and an attempted fourth sort of make you the villain as well.”

  Claire furrowed her brow and scowled at them. “I’m done talking,” she said. “I’d like to see my lawyer now.”

  “Of course,” Rachel said, getting to her feet and rather glad to be leaving the room. But she already knew that based on everything Claire had just said, there were very few lawyers that would be able to get her off. She assumed the knife that was currently in evidence would also serve as a huge nail in her coffin.

  She and Jack left the interrogation room, and Rachel realized she hadn’t even touched her tea yet. She finally sipped from it, grimaced, and wished it were coffee. But that was the absolute last thing she needed at the moment.

  “How’s the arm feeling?” Jack asked. It was a genuine question—his way of politely sweeping their tense exchange before entering the interrogation room under the rug.

  She looked at the bandage, amazed that she’d somehow nearly forgotten about it. “It’s fine,” she said. She was not as quick as Jack to get over heated words, but she was already starting to understand that his little jabs had been out of nothing more than concern.

  “I don’t know what got into you over the last day or so,” Jack said. “But you did great. I’m trying to figure out how to write my report without making you sound like some sort of supernatural Supergirl.”

  She smiled, instantly thinking of her tumor. After all, didn’t most superheroes have a fundamental flaw or weakness they kept hidden?

  If that was indeed the case, she figured she could try wearing a cape until the tumor took her out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Because it was not too long of a drive, Rachel and Jack decided to drive home that night after the paperwork was done. The final thing they heard before they left was a bit from the forensics team. Not only was the car parked across the street from the McNeil house registered to Claire Allen, but there were several bloody fingerprints on the kitchen walls, as well as Cassie McNeil’s clothes—all ID’ed as belonging to Claire Allen.

  In other words, they without a doubt had their killer. Case closed.

  Rachel was looking out of the window as a soft drizzle of rain started to fall. She was not tired, not exactly, but the pattering of rain seemed to try to convince her otherwise. She found herself once again thinking of her mother—more precisely, of how she died. It was strange because it was not something she’d thought of in quite some time. She supposed it was because her mother had died at an early age, leaving a young daughter behind. And she was on the edge of that very same situation.

  “Can I ask you something?” Jack asked.

  “Sure,” she said, still looking out into the thin s
heet of rain.

  “Fertility and eggs and women desperate to have children…as a woman, was it hard to make it through all of this? Was that why you seemed to be a little off?”

  It was a good question, and not one she had really given much thought to just yet. She’d been so distracted with her own issues and secrets that she’d somehow side-stepped the heavier elements of the case. Even stranger than that was that the biggest takeaway from the case had come from her visit to another killer, Alex Lynch.

  “I think it might hit me in a few days,” she said. It wasn’t entirely true, but she also didn’t want to seem like a heartless robot. “Right now, I’m still processing.”

  “Are you ready to tell me about what’s been up with you lately?”

  She didn’t answer him right away. It was tempting, and she was so tired and distracted that it really wouldn’t be all that hard to get it out. But she couldn’t. Not yet. If she was going to tell anyone, Peter needed to know first.

  “For now, I’m okay,” she answered.

  “I don’t understand that answer.”

  She finally turned away from the darkness and the rain, setting her eyes on her partner. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t either.”

  ***

  She arrived home at 2:25. She showered, careful to avoid the bandage on her arm and slipped into bed. Peter rested a hand on her side and she backed up closer to him. She felt the words right on the tip of her tongue, the secret about the tumor, about how she only had a year or so to live. She turned towards him, doing what she could to summon the courage.

  “Case closed?” he asked with the edge of a smile in his voice. It was a question he usually asked when she’d been away for a few days and they greeted one another for the first time.

  “Yeah,” she said, near tears.

  And then, before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she was kissing him. It was tender and slow, and a few tears escaped. But Peter didn’t sense the tears, only the emotion. And when she urged it on further, he did not object. They made love, slow and intentional, that was over in a quick moment of passion. Even when he noticed the bandage on her arm and tried to ask her about it, she silenced him with kisses. It wasn’t the sex that Rachel needed, but the intimacy of it—to feel close to him.

  When it was over, any chance that she might tell him about the tumor was gone. Somehow, it was the exact opposite of that now. Now, she figured they needed to have a discussion about why not having another child would be the best thing right now. It turned out that Jack’s assumption had been right: the case had made a daunting situation with the tumor even more dauting for things at home. Currently, the idea of even trying to have another child made her mind and heart feel heavy.

  They both fell asleep peacefully side by side and Rachel did not wake up until the sun crept in through the bedroom blinds.

  She could just barely hear Paige’s voice coming up from downstairs. Paige sounded as cheerful and as bright as she usually did and it made Rachel want to get out of bed and downstairs as quickly as possible. She slid out of bed and went to the bathroom where she redressed the bandages on her arm. She brushed her teeth and dressed quickly, wanting to make sure she was able to see Paige and Peter together before he stepped out to go to work.

  Paige shrieked when she saw her mother enter the kitchen. She got up from the barstool where she was eating at the counter and ran to Rachel, giving her one of her intense hugs. When she saw the bandage on her mother’s arm, she jumped back a bit, her eyes wide with alarm.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, gasping.

  “Yes, sweetie, I’m fine.”

  Looking into Paige’s face, she started to imagine how she might tell her family about her diagnosis. It wouldn’t be so hard with Peter, but how in the hell did you explain to a six year old that there was a tumor in mommy’s head that was very likely going to kill her?

  “Do I really have to go to school today?” she asked. “I want to stay here with you!”

  “Oh, she’s already tried that on me,” Peter said. “No ma’am. Come on. We need to leave in about five minutes.”

  “I promise,” Rachel said, “you and I will spend some time together this evening and do something special, okay?”

  “Okay,” Paige said, hugging her again.

  She walked the to the door as Peter ushered her out. They shared a kiss as Paige bounded down the porch stairs. “Don’t take this wrong way,” Peter said, “but you seem a little off this morning. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Do you need to talk through the case tonight?”

  “Maybe,” she said.

  He eyed her with loving care for a moment and then nodded. “Take it easy today, okay? Don’t overdo it.”

  “I won’t,” she said.

  She closed the door as Peter headed out and then stood there for a moment, her head resting against the door. A flood of emotion came pouring out and before she knew what was happening, she hit her knees on the floor and cried until it was all out.

  ***

  The special thing Paige elected to do that night was going over the calendar they’d made at school in order to learn the days of the week and the months of the year. Rachel and Paige sat together after dinner huddled at the kitchen table and filling it with events that were coming up through the rest of the year—the birthdays of family members and friends, holidays, trips they had planned (including the Disney trip) and special school events. It was odd to plan out her final year, but she did her best to put as much cheer and enthusiasm into it as she could.

  She spent every moment she could with Paige, knowing that her daughter was often very clingy when she returned from trips that took her outside of the city. She stood in the bathroom as Paige brushed her teeth, said her prayers with her by the side of her bed, and tucked her in. They then read a chapter of a Puppy Pals book together before Rachel exited the room, turning the light out.

  When she got downstairs, Peter was sitting in the living room, watching ESPN. As the day’s basketballs scores and stories were discussed, he muted it and looked to her with a smile. “You know how much that little girl adores you, right?”

  “It’s a pretty great feeling,” she admitted.

  “So…the case. Your arm. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, I think so. But Peter…there’s something I want to talk about before I get into the case.” Tell him, you coward, she thought. Peter, I went to the doctor after an episode on the training course and the doctors found something…

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t stand to be away from Paige for so long. Even just three days…I mean I know it affects her and it hurts me, too. Given that, I just don’t know if a second child is the right choice. There are some days where I absolutely think we’re supposed to have another kid, but these last four days or so…I just don’t know.”

  It was apparent that he didn’t agree, but he kept the disappointment off his face as well as he could. “Meanwhile, I think I want another one worse than I thought. I enjoy all the attempts at making one, don’t get me wrong, but it’s more than that.”

  “Peter…our jobs don’t really make it easy to even maintain one kid.”

  “I know. But we could make it work, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not sure. Right now, at this moment, I’d have to say no.”

  He smiled, reached over and took her hand. “How about I lay off…give you a few more months to think it over? Maybe we can re-evaluate in like four or five months?”

  “Yeah,” she said, though in that moment, she knew very well that her mind would not change. Of course, by the time the opportunity for the another-kid talk came up, he’d know her secret and that would obviously take the topic off of the table.

  “Can I ask why you’re so on board with the idea of a second kid?” Rachel asked.

  He turned the TV off completely, making sure all of his attention went to her. “The other night when I had to be late…just knowing we had to have a sitter here
with Paige sort of messed with me. Sure, I know it’s nothing unusual for parents to have to leave their kids with a sitter, but it just…well, it sucked, you know? I wanted to be here with her. It was such a simple feeling, but it made me realize how much I love that kid. That feeling has just been sort of sitting with me since then and…yeah, I think I would like to have another one to love.”

  Oh, you selfish jerk, Rachel scolded herself. The longer you don’t tell him about the tumor, the longer he’s going to have this hope. You have to tell him…

  But even as she thought about it, Peter was leaning in and kissing her. Their bodies still seemed to be tuned up from the unexpected romp the night before. It started to get heated right about the same time Rachel felt the need to tell him about the tumor. The thought arrived almost as quickly as the surprising desire to have him again.

  “Hold on,” she said.

  Peter smiled and looked towards the hall. “It’s okay. Paige is asleep.”

  She smiled back and kissed the corner of his mouth. “No. It’s not that. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  He apparently saw the seriousness in her gaze because he didn’t object further. He slid back a few feet to give her some space. “What is it?” he asked. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you just got all serious on me. Was it the case?”

  She shook her head, trying to choose the right words. Should she just blurt it out and have it done or should she ease him into it, starting with the run out at the obstacle course? “No, it wasn’t the case…though that was pretty awful. No, this happened before I got the call for the case. This—”