Page 10 of Her Last Farewell

Rachel moved to kneel beside Julia's chair, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as the woman's body shook with grief. She said nothing, knowing from experience that no words could help in this moment. She simply stayed there, offering what comfort she could as Julia's carefully constructed world collapsed around her.

To her surprise, Novak quietly got up and walked away, returning moments later with a box of tissues from a side table. He placed it within Julia's reach without a word, then stepped back to give her space. The simple gesture spoke volumes about his character, and Rachel felt a fresh wave of appreciation for her new partner.

She briefly looked through the window, her eyes and mind alert. Somewhere out there, someone had held Carla Rhodes captive for five months before ending her life. And Rachel still felt they were missing some crucial element to it all, some factorthat might point them not just to answers, but maybe directly to the killer.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rachel sat at a borrowed desk in the Bowery precinct's bullpen, drumming her fingers against the scratched wooden surface as she waited for the coroner to pick up her call. The small station hummed with the usual activity—phones ringing, officers chatting, the rhythmic thud of a copying machine in the corner. But Rachel's focus remained on the marks she'd seen on Carla Rhodes' wrists and ankles. Those ligature marks told a story that didn't match the narrative of a simple suicide.

She also felt very tired—not physically, but emotionally. She and Novak had remained at Julia’s home until a neighbor had been able to come over and sit with her. Being with the woman, so freshly heart-broken, had been awful. Rachel still heard the wails in her own head as she listened to the other line ringing in her head, the coroner’s phone now having run five times.

Finally, it was answered. "County Coroner's Office," a gruff voice finally answered.

"This is Special Agent Rachel Gift with the FBI, working a case here in Bowery. I know the body hasn’t been there for very long, but I wanted to check if you've found anything noteworthy in your examination of Carla Rhodes."

“One moment. Let me check.”

Rachel wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She knew that aside from more scratches, bruises, or other topical marks, there would have been nothing found. Not yet. But she simply felt she had to keep the case moving forward in any way she could.

That same voice came back on the line about two minutes later, and she could hear the apologetic tone right away. "Agent Gift, the full examination has barely begun. “Of course, these things take time to—"

"I understand," Rachel interrupted. "But those marks on her wrists and ankles—they suggest she was restrained for an extended period. I'd appreciate it if you could call me the moment anything unusual is found, no matter how small."

The man on the other end sighed. "Sure thing, Agent. I'll add your number to my contacts. But don't expect anything comprehensive for at least twenty-four hours."

Rachel ended the call; it was pretty much what she’d been expecting. She’d been at this job long enough to know what the coroner’s timelines looked like. She did know, though, that it sometimes went a bit faster in smaller communities. So she at least hadthatgoing for her.

She looked over to where Novak sat hunched over a computer terminal, scrolling through public records on Carla and any name that had been mentioned in her missing person files. His tie was already loosened, his sleeves rolled up as he dug through databases. She crossed the small bullpen to join him, her shoes clicking against the linoleum floor.

"Find anything interesting?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Not much. Carla Rhodes was clean as they come. No criminal record, not even a parking ticket." He clicked through a few more screens. "Graduated Virginia Commonwealth University with a business degree, worked as an accountant at a mid-sized firm in Richmond. Nothing that screams 'high-risk lifestyle.'"

Rachel nodded, her mind already moving to the next avenue of investigation. "What about her ex-husband? Anderson Bowman?" She'd noted his name in the missing persons report, along with his relocation to New York after their divorce.

"Haven't gotten there yet," Novak admitted, reaching for his coffee cup only to find it empty.

Rachel pulled out her phone, scrolling to find Bowman's New York number. "I think we need to—"

The precinct's front door swung open with a bang, drawing everyone's attention. Rachel saw one cop not too far away from the front door actually go for his gun. Thankfully, cool heads prevailed and the situation was given a moment to breathe as a man walked through the door. He looked to be in his late twenties, his thin frame seeming to sway slightly as he approached the front desk. His clothes—khakis and a wrinkled blue button-down—hung loose on his gaunt frame. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his pale skin had an almost grayish tinge that spoke of too many sleepless nights.

"Keith," Deputy Leery called out from across the room, recognition and mild frustration mixing in his voice. "We talked about this on the phone an hour ago."

"She's still not home," the man—Keith—said, his voice cracking. "Andrea's still not answering her phone. Something's wrong, I'm telling you."

Another officer stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Keith's shoulder. "Mr. Grimm, we understand you're worried, but as we explained earlier—"

"I don't care about your forty-eight-hour rule!" Keith shrugged off the officer's hand. "Andrea's been clean for almost three months. She wouldn't just disappear, not now. And Dr. Tharpe called me this morning because Andrea missed her appointment. She's never missed a session, not once since she started therapy. It was the one thing keeping her clean. She…she…she's in trouble. Maybe using again, but God, I hope not. I just need to find her."

Rachel watched the exchange with growing interest. The timing was too coincidental to ignore—another missing woman, right as they discovered Carla Rhodes' body?

"Keith," Deputy Leery said, his tone patronizing, "we know you and Andrea have been trying to get clean, and that's commendable. But given her history, maybe you're right. Maybe she had a slip-up and got embarrassed about it. Maybe she—"

"Our history doesn't matter!" Keith's voice rose, drawing stares from around the bullpen. "We're both clean now. Andrea worked so hard to get here. She wouldn't throw it all away, not after everything we've been through."

Rachel stood up, catching Novak's eye. He nodded, already sensing her thoughts. She approached Leery and spoke in a low voice. "Deputy, I'd like to speak with Mr. Grimm, if you don't mind."

Leery raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he looked embarrassed that he had been engaging in such a loud discussion in front of everyone. "Agent Gift, with all due respect, I’m quite sure there’s nothing to this. Both Keith and his girlfriend Andrea have been in routine trouble and I know for a fact that during their darker days, they would simply disappear out of town for days at a time.” He looked at Keith as if he were a nuisance, sighing. “I’m sure you know how drug users disappear for a few days, their loved ones panic, and then they turn up after a bender."

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