Page 25 of Her Last Escape

As Mrs. Manning left the room, Rachel settled onto the sofa, noting how Manning chose to sit in one of the club chairs, maintaining a slight distance. "Dr. Manning, we'd like to discuss your time at New Horizons. Specifically your feelings about the organization."

Manning's fingers drummed once on the chair's arm before he stilled them. "Are you asking if I harbor resentment for how my time there ended?"

"Do you?"

He let out a short laugh. "I did, for about a week. I'll admit I said some things to colleagues and other organizations that weren't entirely professional. But bitter? No." He leaned forward slightly, his expression becoming more animated. "My concerns were never personal. They were ethical. I understand what they are trying to accomplish and share the same desires. We just have different opinions on how it should be presented."

"Could you elaborate?" Novak asked, his notebook already open.

Manning's eyes took on an intensity that Rachel recognized from other scientists she'd interviewed—the look of someone passionate about their field. "New Horizons has perverted the entire purpose of cryopreservation research. The technology itself is fascinating, potentially revolutionary. There are certain things they will be able to do within the next decade that are going to blow people’s minds. But they've turned it into an exclusive club for the ultra-wealthy."

He stood and began to pace, his earlier reserve forgotten. "The basic process—the preservation itself—could be offered for as little as fifty thousand dollars, perhaps even less, depending on the preservation term. But New Horizons charges over seven hundred thousand for whole-body preservation. Why? Not because of actual costs, but because they can. They've created artificial scarcity to drive up prices and ensure their client list remains... exclusive. Have you been to the facility?”

“We have,” Novak said.

“Then you’ve seen what I’m talking about…the way they present themselves. They want you to think what they are doing is some sort of science fiction fantasy come to life. And they do a good job of it. They make themselves look almost…almost ethereal…and are able to charge ridiculous prices.”

Mrs. Manning returned with a delicate china cup of tea, steam rising in fragrant wisps. Rachel thanked her and took a careful sip; it was warm and soothing, as she’d hoped. Meanwhile, Novak continued the questioning.

"Have you had any contact with anyone at New Horizons since your departure?" he asked.

Manning settled back into his chair, looking almost defeated. "I emailed Margaret Fenway a few months ago. I apologized for some of the things I'd said when they let me go. I told her I’d be happy to talk it over in person, but she never responded.”

Rachel watched him carefully as she asked her next question. "Would it surprise you to learn that someone connected to New Horizons appears to be murdering people?"

His reaction seemed genuine—a slight paling of his complexion, a barely perceptible flinch. But he sat back up in his chair again, his eyes filled with shock and concern. "I'd be shocked beyond measure if any of my former colleagues were capable of murder," he said quietly. "They are, after all, working very hard to extend life."

Rachel knew that the recent murder of Peter Wells had occurred within the last three hours, making it simple to rule out Manning if his whereabouts could be verified. It was one of the many advantages to getting to a fresh scene. "Where were you this afternoon, Dr. Manning?"

"Teaching an online course until 5:30, then Sandra and I went out for dinner. We came home and started reading—until you knocked on our door."

“What school was the course for?”

“Aspen Paget University—a strictly online university,” he answered.

"Can you prove the dinner?" Novak asked.

Mrs. Manning, who had been listening silently from her perch on the arm of her husband's chair, pulled out her phone. The whole time, Rachel watched Manning to see if he’d get upset about the questions, about basically accusing him without coming out and stating it.

"We paid with my Apple Card,” his wife said, showing her phone. “Here's the receipt."

Rachel glanced at the timestamp—it aligned perfectly with Manning's story, and the online course would be easy to verify. Still, she had one final question. "During your time there, was there anyone at New Horizons who gave you pause? Anyone who raised red flags?"

Manning was quiet for a moment, clearly giving the question serious consideration. "The truth is, most of the staff were idealists. Brilliant minds who truly believed in the potential of the technology. Even Margaret, for all her faults, believes in what she's doing. She's just... lost sight of the broader possibilities in favor of immediate profits."

His expression grew distant, and Rachel could see him mentally reviewing his time there. "The labs were state-of-the-art, of course. Everything was pristine, controlled. But there was always this undercurrent of... desperation. Not from the staff, but from the clients. People who were essentially trying to buy their way out of death. Some of them would visit regularly, checking on their future 'accommodations.' The way they talked about it—as if they were booking a long-term stay at some exclusive resort..."

He shook his head. "But no, I can't think of anyone specific who worried me. The ethical issues were systemic, not individual."

Rachel and Novak exchanged a glance. They had what they needed. As they stood to leave, Rachel noticed a framed photo on one of the bookshelves—a younger Manning in a lab coat, surrounded by other scientists, all smiling broadly. The picture spoke of enthusiasm, of possibility. Whatever had soured at New Horizons had come later.

“Well, thank you for your time,” Rachel said. “And the tea.” She took another sip before placing the cup down and starting for the door, Novak followed, taking one last look around the room.

At the door, Rachel saw Manning's wife touch his arm gently. "Alex, should we be worried? About all this?"

"No," Rachel answered for him. “Not for now. But we appreciate your time and cooperation. If you think of anything else, please call." She handed Manning her card.

As they walked back to their car, the solar lights along the path had fully illuminated, creating pools of soft light in the gathering darkness. Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that Manning's insights about the clients' desperation might be more relevant than he realized. Sometimes the most dangerous person wasn't the one with the grievance, but the one with everything to lose.

---