Page 15 of Her Last Farewell

"No," Dr. Tharpe said firmly. "I've never had a patient by that name."

Rachel nodded, making a mental note of this. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Tharpe. We know this puts you in a difficult position."

"I wish I could be more helpful," Dr. Tharpe said, standing as they prepared to leave. "Andrea's disappearance is deeply concerning. She's worked so hard to build a new life for herself. And I fear…well, if she did have another relapse, I fear she may have been far too hard on herself."

“Do you think she may resort to something drastic?” Rachel asked. The question felt heavy, its true meaning clear.

Dr. Tharpe nodded sadly. “I would not rule it out at all.”

As they walked back through the hallway, Rachel noticed that the morning light had shifted, casting different shadows on the faded carpet. They passed a young woman waiting in one of the chairs by reception, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. The sight reminded Rachel of just how many people struggled with their own demons in silence.

Back in their car, Rachel turned to Novak as she started the engine. "So what do you think?"

"Two women, both apparently contemplating suicide, both missing," Novak said thoughtfully. "That can't be a coincidence."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Rachel said, pulling out of the parking lot. "The question is, are we looking at two women who chose to disappear, or did someone take advantage of their vulnerable state?"

"And if someone did take them," Novak added, "how did they know these women were struggling with thoughts of suicide in the first place?"

Rachel merged back onto the main road, her mind already racing with possibilities. Something about this case was starting to take shape in her mind, but the picture wasn't clear yet. What she did know was that they needed to move quickly. If someone was indeed targeting vulnerable women, there was no telling how many other potential victims might be out there.

“Novak, see if you can get me Keith’s address,” she said. “Having spoken to Tharpe, I think we can go a bit deeper with him. And maybe we’ll get more out of him when he’s on his home turf.”

Novak nodded and reached into the pocket along the back of his seat for the iPad. Rachel did feel that speaking to Keith again so soon made the case feel as if they were going in circles. But right now, she felt that he was their best bet at any real information. While there was no definitive link between Carla and Andrea, the coincidences could not be ignored. For all theyknew, a single, passing comment from Keith could blow this case wide open…potentially revealing something darker than they’d yet to imagine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rachel guided their car down a narrow gravel road as morning gave way to early afternoon. The sky had brightened a bit but there was still a chill in the air—not able to be felt in the car, obviously, but it was the sort you could justseeon the air. The car tires crunched rhythmically over loose stones and patches of dead grass, the sound oddly comforting in the growing gloom. After navigating several bends through dense Virginia woods, Keith Grimm's double-wide trailer came into view. It was perched on a small, cleared lot that had been carved out of the forest.

Though clearly weathered by years of harsh weather, someone had made visible efforts to maintain the property's dignity. Fresh paint, a soft powder blue, covered most of the rust spots around the windows and door frames. Despite the patchy lawn, dotted with brown spots and bare earth, neat rows of artificial flowers lined a makeshift garden bed near the front steps. Plastic chrysanthemums and daisies provided spots of determined color against the dreary backdrop. A string of solar lights, half of them no longer working, bordered the short gravel path from the road to the porch. She wondered if all of this had been Keith’s work or if Andrea had engineered it all.

When they pulled into the small, dirt driveway next to Keith's old pickup truck, Keith was standing on the small, covered porch. His shoulders were hunched against the chill as he smoked a cigarette. The ember glowed brightly as he took another drag and blew the smoke into the cold air. His gaze followed their approach with an intensity that spoke of desperate hope mixed with barely contained fear.

As she and Novak stepped out of their car, she noted how Keith's fingers trembled when he lifted the cigarette to his lipsagain. His free hand gripped the porch railing so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He was clearly expecting some sort of news.

"Mr. Grimm," Rachel said, “Do you have a second?”

“Did you find her?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. But we did speak with Dr. Tharpe, as we mentioned. We'd like to ask you a few more questions about Andrea, if that's alright."

Keith nodded, crushing out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray that balanced precariously on the porch railing. The metal tray was full to the brim with butts, suggesting he'd been chain-smoking for days. Rachel wondered if it was in an attempt to curb the drug withdrawals. "Come up," he said, his voice hoarse and raw. "Did Dr. Tharpe have any ideas? Was she able to help at all?"

Every word was fragile, coming out somewhere between anger and a desperate attempt to keep himself from crying.

“No, nothing like that,” Novak said as they climbed the creaking wooden steps to join him on the porch. Though Keith had changed clothes since they'd seen him at the precinct, his fresh shirt was deeply wrinkled, as if he'd been pacing and fidgeting constantly. Up close, Rachel could see that his hands weren't just trembling – they were shaking badly enough that he had to stuff them into his pockets. His eyes were bloodshot, darting between the two agents as if trying to read their expressions for any hint of news.

"Does Andrea live here with you?" Rachel asked gently, noting even more fake potted plants near the door. Their presence, plus the ones down below, indicated not just an attempt to brighten the place up, but maybe even an attempt at irony, given the location and style of Keith’s home.

Keith's laugh was bitter, empty, echoing slightly in the still afternoon air. "Most nights, yeah. When things are goodbetween us." He swallowed hard. "But she's got her own place. Well, if you can call it that. It’s a real piece of shit…a trailer her old man left her when he bailed to Florida a couple years back. Couldn't even be bothered to sell it, just...left it to rot with her in it." He shook his head, jaw clenching. "She stays there sometimes when things get rough between us. When the cravings hit one of us too hard or when I piss her off."

"But you're both clean now?" Novak asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Three months for her," Keith said, a flash of pride crossing his features before his expression darkened again. "Two weeks for me. Again. Can't seem to stay straight like she does." His voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat before continuing. "She's been my rock through all this, you know? Even when I slip, she stays strong. Keeps me going. Tells me it's okay, that recovery isn't a straight line." He blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. "And now..."

Rachel watched as Keith struggled to maintain his composure, noticing how he kept glancing toward a small wind chime hanging in the corner of the porch. The metallic pieces clinked softly in the breeze, creating a melancholic melody. "That hers?" she asked, nodding toward the chime.

"Yeah," Keith said softly. "She loves that thing. Said the sound helps keep her calm when the cravings get bad." He reached out and touched one of the metal tubes gently, setting it singing. "She's got all these little tricks like that. Things that help her stay clean. She's so much stronger than me."

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