HER LAST MISTAKE Read online

  “Keep working,” she finished for him. “Take assignments, going out as bait.”

  Jack and Anderson nodded while Cole listened rather awkwardly. It was almost as if no one wanted to take the lead to keep the conversation going—to break the silence.

  “Yeah,” Jack finally said. “But of course not until you’re ready. I think you should take some more time to yourself. Time to gr—”

  “I agree. I’ll keep working but I’d like a few more days. A week or so if possible. I’d like Paige to be settled before I head back out.”

  “Of course,” Anderson said. “Take whatever time you need.”

  “Can I go now?”

  Jack looked almost hurt, but said nothing. He left the giving of such an order to Anderson.

  “Yes,” Anderson said. “And again, thank you for coming. I’ll give Cole your number and address so he can be in touch later. He also has Carson’s information.”

  Rachel got to her feet and looked around the room. She felt a bit of warmth as she saw the way Anderson was looking at her. He was a man of stone, a man of very few emotions, so to see him looking concerned for her was comforting.

  “Agent Rivers, would you walk me down to the lobby?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. Director, I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time.”

  Rachel was already headed out of the door, Jack hurrying to keep up with her. She had something on her mind that she needed to discuss with him but she wanted to make sure she was out of earshot of Anderson’s office. She didn’t open her mouth until she’d pressed the button for the elevator.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” she said. “From what I gather, it’s a big one.”

  “How so?”

  The elevator doors opened and they stepped on. She was surprised at how hard it was to say what came next because, typically, speaking these sorts of things out loud helped her to process.

  “They’ll do a scan, and if there’s been a minimal amount of growth and if all of my blood tests come back favorable, I’ll get the greenlight for a treatment that should be able to sort of dissolve the tumor. I don’t know the ins and outs of all of it but if the treatments are successful, I’ll still need surgery but it would be a far less invasive one than if they needed go in and remove the whole thing.”

  “And that’s tomorrow? Four days after your husband was buried?”

  “Yes. I thought about rescheduling, but I figured it didn’t make sense to give this tumor more time to grow or do whatever the hell else it’s doing in my head.”

  “But in terms of symptoms, you haven’t had anything severe in a few weeks, right?”

  She thought it through, estimating that he was right. She hadn’t blacked out in nearly three weeks and hadn’t had any severe headaches for nearly ten days. So in light of Peter’s murder and this new business with relocation, at least there was something to remain hesitantly positive about.

  The elevator stopped and the doors opened, revealing the first-floor lobby. He walked her to the doors in silence, not speaking again until he’d reached out to open the door for her.

  “The coming back to work thing,” he said. “You know no one is expecting you to jump right on it, right?”

  “I know. But you know me, right? I may have to. It may be how I grieve…how I convince myself to push on.”

  He nodded and she could see his arms moving, his hands twitching. He wanted to hug her and she wanted it, too. But doing so here was off limits, and they both felt it. It sent a little pang of disappointment through her and that opened up another thought that was far too appealing. She could see herself with him, on her couch, the two of them lying side by side. His arm was over her and he was holding her as she cried. There was so much comfort in that image that she found herself aching for it.

  “Do you want me to come over later?” he asked. “Maybe under the guise of wanting to help with the relocation?”

  “No, that’s okay. Maybe I’ll give you call when we’re all settled.”

  It was clear that the answer hurt him a bit, but he nodded his understanding. “And you’re okay for now?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I just…I need to be with Paige right now. And get my head around this appointment tomorrow.”

  Before she let the urge to hug him again take over, she walked through the door and into the waiting afternoon.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dr. Emerson came back into the examination room, walking through the door for the third time today. The doctor’s visit had taken three hours so far, including several scans and more bloodwork than Rachel cared to recall. She found herself studying Emerson’s face as he closed the door and turned to face her. She could usually read the expressions on the faces of suspects but found it much harder on the faces of doctors and seasoned nurses.

  “Are you a good poker player?” she quipped.

  “God, no. The one time I played Texas Hold ‘Em with some friends, I lost about five hundred bucks. I swore I’d never play again. Why?”

  “Because you’ve got one hell of a poker face.”

  He smiled and raised the folder he held in his hands. “Oh, I’m not trying to hide anything. The results I’m seeing here from the scan and the bloodwork are all good. You’ve not only got the greenlight to start the medication and, a few months from now, the treatment, but the tumor seems to have slowed down. It hasn’t stopped growing, but the rate at which it’s spreading is miniscule compared to what we originally saw.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Maybe nothing, but it’s a good report. The medicine, if it does its job, is supposed to halt the growth, and then begin to shrink it away. And that would make the treatment and subsequent surgery so much easier, with a much higher possibility of success. Now, it is an experimental drug, so the results can’t be one hundred percent confirmed but—”

  “I know,” she said.

  Emerson reached into the large front pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a prescription pad. As he filled it out in the quick and imprecise nature of a doctor, he said, “You won’t be able to get this at a basic pharmacy. There are only two in the area that can fill it and it’ll take a few days. So we’re going to call it in.” He ripped the page off and handed it to her. “Just take this with you and be ready to sign about a gazillion papers.”

  Rachel took the prescription, nodding her thanks. She looked skeptically at the folder, wondering if there really was enough reason within it to cause her to hope.

  “Can I make a suggestion?” Emerson said.

  “Sure.”

  “This is good news. It’s not astounding news like ‘hey, the tumor is miraculously gone’ but it is good news. It’s hopeful news. This is a small win, Rachel. It’s okay to be hopeful.”

  She managed a smile, though several swirling thoughts pressed for dominance in her head. Maybe he wouldn’t be asking me to look on the bright side if he knew what I’d been dealing with for the last five days, she thought. Maybe he’d be singing a different tune if he knew that a lot of my belongings are currently sitting in unopened boxes around a townhouse I was rushed into yesterday.

  “Sorry,” she said. “it’s just…I guess I’m a slow processer.”

  “I get that,” he said, already heading for the door. “We want to see you back in thirty days. If you get swimmy headed or if there are severe, sharp headaches over the first week of taking the meds, stop right away and let us know.” He smiled at her and looked around the room. “You can hang out here for a while to…process.”

  “Thank you.”

  Emerson exited the room, closing the door behind him. Rachel took him up on the offer to stay behind and think things through. She wasn’t sure how to feel. The news she’d been given would be considered good news by pretty much anyone, but it wasn’t any sort of concrete news she could take home in the hopes of reclaiming the way things had been before the tumor.

  Not quite sure how to feel just yet, she took out her pho
ne. She’d planned to call Grandma Tate, to give her the semi-good news. She figured that maybe sharing it with someone would help it to really hit home. She surprised herself, though. Rather than calling Grandma Tate, she found herself scrolling to Jack’s number.

  She called without even trying to talk herself out of it. She assumed he’d be too busy to take the call, anyway—probably tied down with whatever Director Anderson had him running with while she was out of the office.

  But Jack answered after three rings, and he sounded very excited to hear from her. She also detected a bit of nerves in his voice, too. Maybe he was afraid to hear the update. Surprisingly, the knowledge that she could lessen that fear and worry made her feel the first true glimmer of hope and happiness ever since Emerson had given her his report.

  “I wasn’t even sure you’d call,” he said, ignoring a typical hello. “You’re pretty secretive sometimes, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “So, how was it? Is there any news?”

  “There’s news, and it’s mostly good. Do you think you could meet for coffee so I can give you the rundown?”

  “Yeah, I can do that. I’m on an assist for a minor drug deal and I’m just waiting for a few calls. Where do you want to meet?”

  She gave him a location and when she left the office, she was a bit surprised (and dare she say, scared) that she was so anxious to meet him.

  ***

  They met at a small park not too far away from the FBI’s Richmond field office. They frequented it on slower days at the office when they were between cases, mostly for the little coffee and tea truck that was always parked near the entrance to one of the running trails. Rachel and Jack sat at a small picnic table, across from one another, sipping their coffee.

  As Jack gave her a few moments to gather her thoughts, Rachel made herself face the reality that she was beginning to develop strong feelings for Jack that ventured outside of the professional realm. This would have been manageable and easy to disregard if she wasn’t pretty sure he was starting to feel the same way. Ever since Peter had left, Jack had stepped up in a way—both emotionally and in terms of just plain support—that Rachel had not expected. The result, apparently, was something akin to a middle-school crush. It felt very inappropriate, given that her husband of nearly a decade had just died, less than three months after they’d decided to separate. Given that, there was no way she was going to bring that up during this conversation.

  To keep this all away, she started telling him about the visit with Dr. Emerson. She did her best to remind herself that, as Emerson had pointed out, it was worth celebrating. The look on Jack’s face helped her with this. The recollection took no more than three minutes and when she was done, Rachel became very aware of just how intently Jack was looking at her.

  “Just to be clear,” Rachel said, “I am not viewing this as a major victory. There’s no guarantee the meds will work and even if they do, it’s an experimental drug so we don’t know what might happen afterwards. There’s also the fact that even if it works, it’s not like it’s going to magically heal me. I’ll still have to have the surgery at some point.”

  “You are not a half glass full kind of gal are you?” Jack interrupted.

  “I don’t think I’m any kind of gal.”

  He smiled and said: “Have you told your grandmother or Paige?”

  “No, not yet. I wanted to deconstruct it a bit first, to get my head around it. I may not tell anyone else until I’ve actually started taking the meds.”

  “And you chose me to tell,” he said. He injected a bit of a cocky tone into his voice as he said this but she could tell that it actually meant a lot.

  “I did. Don’t let it go to your head. Because I think there’s one more thing we need to talk about. It may be something you and Anderson have already discussed.”

  He sipped his coffee, his blue eyes gazing curiously at her over the top of his cup.

  “Alex Lynch has harassed my grandmother, he had someone put a scare into my daughter, and now he’s killed Peter. If you look at my very small circle, that only leaves you. And if he was willing to kill Peter…”

  “You think Lynch is stupid enough to consider killing an FBI agent?”

  “Stupid, no. Crazy?” She shrugged and said, “Maybe.”

  Jack sighed, thinking deeply about something. He eyed her in a scrutinizing sort of way that was almost pleasant. “Anderson and I have spoken about this,” he said. “And between you and me, it’s one of the reasons he’s asking you to take your time coming back. Obviously, he wants you to take the personal time to grieve Peter and sort everything out. But in the event that we don’t catch this nutbag before you come back, he does think you’d sort of be bait that can lure him out. But he also had the same concern…about Lynch maybe focusing on me. And the way we saw it—sorry, but we did discuss this behind your back as a sort of theoretical thing—having us working together could not only draw him away from your family, but would bring him to us. If he really is intent on blowing up your life.”

  She nodded her understanding. It had dawned on her that Lynch didn’t come after Peter until after she’d come back home from a case. She knew it didn’t necessarily mean that he’d been trailing her and Jack the entire time they’d been on the case, but it did at least support the theory.

  “So, this is what I’m hearing,” Jack said, still doing his best to remain upbeat and on the funny side. She figured this was his way of ignoring the blooming romance between them for the time being. “You got a positive update from your doctor, and you are thinking it’s a good idea to try coming back to work in order to get Lynch.”

  “Getting Lynch wouldn’t be the only reason.” She realized the comment was filled with innuendo, but didn’t correct it.

  Jack smiled and said, “You know, I’ve made a habit of bitching at you over the last five or six weeks, about how someone in your condition shouldn’t be working. Especially not a job as stressful as this one. So, on that note…well, you’re just going to have to call me wishy-washy.”

  “Wishy-washy? Between that and gal, I’m really beginning to question your word choice.”

  “If that’s the only doubt you have about me, I think we’re in good shape.” He held up his coffee cup and tilted it toward her. “A toast! To coming back on the job, but only when it feels right.”

  She knocked her cup against his and then took a long gulp.

  “And Rachel?” He leveled his eyes at her and Rachel wasn’t sure when she’d last wanted to kiss someone so badly. “Between now and when you do come back, I’m here for you. Anything you need, you just ask.”

  This time, it was her turn to use a smile in place of words. In that moment, there was far too much she wanted to ask him for, none of it appropriate. So they simply sat there for several more minutes as Rachel began to think about sharing her good news with Paige. After losing her father, it would just maybe help give the girl some hope.

  And with that seed planted in her mind, Rachel suddenly couldn’t wait to get home.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was five days later when Rachel got the call. She was surprised Anderson hadn’t asked Jack to do it, thinking it might seem a little more comforting and personal. But no…it was Anderson, calling her at 8:40 in the morning. It was the second day Paige had gone back to school, something she’d asked for. Her determination to carry on with life as usual in any way she could was yet another way Rachel saw herself in Paige. She’d cried over her father at least twice a day after the funeral, but still wanted to get back to school.

  Rachel had spoken with Paige’s teacher as well as the school counselor and agreed it should be fine, but they would, of course, keep an eye out for any behavioral shifts. Grandma Tate was also on board and a plan was set in place to ensure that Paige had all the support she needed whenever Rachel was away. In setting the plan up with the school and Grandma Tate, it did not escape Rachel that things would be so much better if she just stayed home for a
nother week—to forget work and the hope of luring Lynch out.

  But that was the exact reason she’d decided to get back to work, though she didn’t quite feel entirely ready. The prospect of getting Lynch to come out of hiding, to make some stupid and brash mistake…as miserable of a mother as it made her feel like, she was willing to accept it. The possible payout would be worth it as far as she was concerned.

  The call came when she was on the way back home from dropping Paige off. She was a bit surprised to see Anderson’s name on the caller display, but she answered it all the same. Like her daughter, she was also beginning to itch for a return to normalcy.

  “This is Gift,” she answered.

  “Agent Gift,” he said uncertainly. “Please know that I do understand that this may be considered as calling too early, but I had a discussion with Agent Rivers this morning and he suggested it would be okay.”

  “It’s perfectly fine, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping you’d be willing to come in to discuss a case. I’d like for you to simply hear the details and decide for yourself if you’re ready to come back and, if so, if it’s a case that might be a good way to transition back into work.”

  “That sounds more than fair. I can come in now if that suits you.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Agent Rivers and I will be waiting.”

  She’d not yet turned off the highway toward her neighborhood, so Rachel continued in the same direction. As she started to center her mind around work, there was an undeniable sting of guilt. It had only been ten days since she’d received word that Peter had died, and only six since he’d been placed into the ground. She had no idea how long people typically took to grieve the loss of a loved one (and, in her case, a man she’d gotten to know intimately on just about every level over the twelve years they’d known one another) but she didn’t think there was some universal law to it.