Page 23 of Her Last Escape

“Yeah.”

"I'll get his address," Novak said, already dialing the field office. He veered toward the driver's side while Rachel slid into the passenger seat, pulling out her phone.

She typed "Alexander Manning New Horizons" into the search bar, and the results populated quickly. Manning's career read like a roadmap through the evolution of modern biochemistry. He earned his Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins in '96, where his dissertation on cellular preservation techniques earned him the Lasker Award for Basic Medical Research. From there, he'd spent eight years at the Mayo Clinic, heading their tissue preservation research division before being recruited by Harvard Medical School. His publication record was impressive: over seventy peer-reviewed papers, mostly focusing on cellular degradation and preservation techniques in extreme conditions. He’d even written two papers on the lifespan of extremophile organisms in Antarctica.

The driver's door opened, and Novak dropped into the seat, bringing with him a gust of cold air. "Got it. He's over in the Greenbrier neighborhood, about twenty minutes from here." He started the engine, the dashboard lights illuminating his face in a blue glow. "You find anything good?"

"Actually, yes." Rachel scrolled through the results. "Manning's not just any biochemist. He basically wrote the book on modern cryopreservation techniques. In 2018, he developed a new method for preventing ice crystal formation in preserved tissue – it's still the industry standard." She paused, finding something interesting. "Wait. Here's where it gets relevant. Directly related to New Horizons…it looks like the whole reasons he was fired was because he started speaking out against New Horizons' client selection process. He claimed they were prioritizing wealth over viability."

"Viability?"

"The likelihood of successful preservation and eventual revival." Rachel's eyes caught on a quote from Manning in a local paper: 'We're storing bodies that have zero chance of viable revival, while turning away younger candidates with better preservation prospects. It's become about money, not science.'

“Yikes.”

"So," she said, watching the streetlights flash by, "even if he's not our killer, he might know something useful about what's really going on at New Horizons. And it seems like he’d be almost happy to tell us."

Novak nodded, turning onto the highway. As silence settled into the car, Rachel realized that it was nearing 8:30 at night. And because Novak had said Manning’s address was twenty minutes away, it seemed like a good time to make her check-in call to home.

“You mind if I make my check-in call?” she asked.

“Not at all. Actually, when you’re done, I need to do the same.”

It was 8:32. She should have called home an hour ago. Of course, she knew that neither Page nor Jack would make a big deal about it. They never did…and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. So when she placed the call, she already had the familiar guilt settling in her stomach like a lead weight.

The phone rang twice before Paige answered. "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, sweetie. Sorry, I'm calling so late.”

“It’s not all that late.”

“I know, but still…how was your day?"

"It was okay." There was the sound of papers rustling in the background. "I had that English test today, remember?"

Rachel closed her eyes briefly. Of course – Paige had been studying for it all week. "Right, the one on that book you didn’t like. What was it?”

“City of Ember.”

“How'd it go?"

"I think I did pretty well,” Paige said. “Mrs. Peterson said we'd get the grades back tomorrow." Paige paused. "Jack ordered pizza for dinner. He was all apologetic about it…said he was sorry he didn’t have time to cook. There's some left if you're coming home soon."

The hope in her daughter's voice made Rachel's chest tighten. "Actually, honey, I might have to stay in Charlottesville tonight. We've got some leads we need to follow up on."

The silence on the other end lasted a beat too long. "That's fine. I understand."

"Is Jack around?” Rachel asked. “I should probably talk to him."

"He's on a conference call in the living room. Been on it for like an hour already. Something about a case in Baltimore? It’s why he wasn’t able to cook anything."

Rachel watched the highway signs flash past, each one taking her further from home. From her family. "Right. The Baltimore case." She'd forgotten about that one – a series of bank robberies that had crossed state lines. Jack had mentioned it at breakfast, hadn't he? Or was that yesterday's breakfast? The days were starting to blur together. All she knew was that Jack had been responsible for putting the team together and to make sure they had all the resources they needed.

"It's really okay, Mom," Paige said, her voice carrying that forced maturity that made Rachel's heart ache. "I've got homework to finish anyway, and then maybe I'll watch something on Netflix."

Rachel thought of her daughter sitting alone at the kitchen table, with a pizza box pushed aside to make room for her textbooks, while Jack paced the living room, talking about case files and jurisdictional issues. She thought of all the times she'd promised to be more present, to find a better balance. Those promises had piled up to toppling, only to come crashing down on all of them.

The only time she'd truly been there for Paige was when the tumor had forced her to be – when death had seemed so certain that work became irrelevant. Now here she was, healthy again, and what was she doing with that second chance?

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