Page 34 of Her Last Escape

Rachel did the mental math; it was far too easy. Peter Wells had been murdered between 6:05 and 6:45 PM. If Dewalt's alibi checked out—and she was certain it would—he couldn't be their killer. In her experience, murderers rarely lied about easily verifiable details like work schedules. They typically constructed more elaborate alibis, ones that were harder to prove or disprove.

But something Dewalt had said a few minutes ago suddenly caught her attention. Something about employees leaving New Horizons at the same time and how he’d chosen who to follow. She remembered the sign-in sheet they'd seen both times at New Horizons. A new possibility began to take shape in her mind quickly.

Rachel exchanged a look with Novak, and she gave a very quick shake of the head. She could see he'd come to the same conclusion and was certain his alibi would check out.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Dewalt," Rachel said, standing. "We'll need to verify your whereabouts for last night, but assuming everything checks out, you'll be out of here shortly."

It looked like he wanted to say something else but he closed his mouth over it. He saw freedom just ahead and decided to be happy enough with that.

When she and Novak were back out in the hallway, Rachel took a few steps toward the central part of the building and took out her phone. "I think I have another idea," she told Novak. "It may pan out to nothing, but if I'm wrong, it will only waste half an hour or so."

“Care to share?” he asked. She really liked the fact that he was already interested, already tuned in. Given time, they were going to be a very successful pair of partners.

“There’s a sign-in sheet at New Horizons, right there the desk. I remember it because I thought it seemed sort of basic and out of date for how modern the place is. And if our killer somehow got their hands on the sign-in sheet…”

“It could basically be a checklist,” Novak finished.

“Exactly. That, or it could show us if our three victims have ever been there at the same time. And if they have, any other names there at the same time instantly become very important to us.”

She was already three steps ahead, plotting out their next move. They'd eliminated one suspect, but in doing so, they might have stumbled onto something much more significant. She sighed and said, “Do you mind checking Dewalt’s alibi? I’m going to call ahead to New Horizons. I’m sure Ms. Fenway will be very excited to see us again.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The glass doors of New Horizons slid open with a soft hiss, releasing a burst of climate-controlled warm air into Rachel's face. The lobby's clinical brightness hadn't changed since their last visit, but something felt different today. Maybe it was the way her pulse quickened as she crossed the threshold, or how her fingers kept brushing against her holster. After three visits in two days, the angular modernist furniture and brushed steel accents were becoming uncomfortably familiar – like a second office she never wanted.

"This place is really starting to feel like home," Novak said, voicing her thoughts. He pulled out his phone, scanning a text. "And Jason Dewalt's alibi just got confirmed by our friend Deputy Dunphy. Security footage shows him at work until eight last night, plus at least ten witnesses can verify it. He's definitely not our killer."

Rachel nodded, watching the play of afternoon light across the polished floor. That meant that this new path they were exploring could very well be more important than it had seemed just two minutes ago. The list was getting shorter, and with each eliminated suspect, they were closer to the truth. Her attention shifted to Margaret Fenway, who was already striding toward them from the elevator bank, her fitted charcoal suit a stark contrast against the white walls. The fact that she had come down to meet them rather than having them come to her only added to the urgent undertone of the moment.

Fenway carried a slim computer bag over her shoulder and a steel coffee cup in her hand. The ready cooperation was surprising – either Rachel's earlier threat about increased federal presence had hit home, or something else had changed. Rachel studied Fenway's face as she approached, looking for any sign of what had prompted this reversal.

Fenway intercepted them before they reached reception, her perfectly manicured hand gesturing toward a side hallway. "Agents, welcome back,” she said. “Follow me." She led down the primary hallway and into a conference room just off the lobby – all clean lines and metallic surfaces, with a wall comprised of a sleek dry-erase surface. The aesthetic screamed cutting-edge tech startup meets medical facility, with just enough clinical sterility to remind visitors that this was, ultimately, a place of science rather than science fiction.

The conference table was a single piece of black glass, so polished Rachel could see their reflections in its surface. Fenway retrieved a laptop and smart pad from her bag, her movements precise and efficient. The tablet made a soft click as she set it on the table's surface.

She slid the laptop to Rachel. "It's already logged into the system." A pause, then, almost apologetically, "And it’s already opened up to the system you need."

"The sign-in records?" Rachel asked.

"Everything's digitized now." Fenway pulled up her own screen. "We still maintain the physical sign-in for legal purposes and ease of access, but it's all transferred to our secure servers weekly. What exactly are you looking for?"

"Days when all three victims were here simultaneously." Rachel's fingers moved across the keyboard as Novak leaned in beside her, close enough that she could smell his aftershave. Fenway had her own fingers poised over the smart pad in front of her. "Thomas Whitman, Diana Foxworth, Peter Wells."

The screens cast a pale blue glow across their faces as they worked. Rachel could hear the soft whir of the building's advanced climate control system, maintaining the perfect temperature for both the living and those in suspended animation below.

"What changed, Ms. Fenway?" Rachel asked as they began searching, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes never leaving her pad as she searched for the names.

"You weren't exactly forthcoming before." The words came out sharper than intended, but she didn't soften them.

Fenway's normally composed features showed a flicker of discomfort. She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her blazer sleeve before responding. "I saw the news about Peter Wells after you left. The articles, the news coverage..." She paused, matching Rachel's direct gaze. "I've spent fifteen years building this facility, this technology. Call it self-interest if you want, but if these deaths are indeed connected to New Horizons, everything we've built could collapse. If I can help prevent that..."

Rachel kept her opinion about the selfish motivation to herself, focusing instead on the screen—mainly because she did see it as selfish self-interest. They worked methodically through the records, Rachel and Novak scanning the laptop while Fenway searched her tablet. The work was tedious – cross-referencing times, dates, names. October's records yielded nothing but routine visits and maintenance checks. September was equally empty, filled with mundane appointments and regular client updates. Rachel started to worry that they may have to go back even farther. And if that was the case, there was no telling how long this would take.

The silence was broken only by the soft tapping of keys and the occasional murmur as they compared notes. Rachel felt the weight of time pressing against them, knowing that somewhere in these records was the connection they needed.

"Got something," Novak said suddenly, his voice cutting through Fenway's technical explanation. "November second. All three victims…. all checked in within about an hour and fifteen minutes of one another."

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