Page 35 of Her Last Escape

Rachel leaned closer to the screen, the blue light highlighting the tension in her face. "Diana Foxworth, 10:15 AM. Peter Wells, 11:00. Thomas Whitman, 11:05." She turned to Fenway, who was already inputting the information into her tablet. "Who else was here that day…?" she murmured.

Fenway's fingers moved across the screen, her expression growing troubled as she read. "Five others. An IT specialist for server maintenance, two delivery personnel, a board member from New York, and..." She paused, the tablet lowering slightly. "One client. Richard Aldridge. He checked in at 11:20."

"Tell me about Aldridge," Rachel said, her instincts humming. The timing was too perfect to be coincidence. She could feel Novak tensing beside her, sensing the same thing.

"Terminal diagnosis. Aggressive form of pancreatic cancer." Fenway set down her tablet, her professional demeanor cracking slightly. Rachel could see the reality of the situation settling into her eyes like storm clouds. "He'd been interested in cryopreservation for years—before the cancer came around. But when he got the diagnosis... he wanted everything fast-tracked. But six months wasn't enough time for our standard protocols."

"How did he take that news?"

"Badly." Fenway's gaze dropped to her hands, manicured nails pressing into her palms. "He'd already paid the initial deposit fee – a substantial amount. When I explained the timeline issues, he broke down. Started talking about how he'd earned his place, how he deserved it more than..." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"More than who?" Rachel pressed, leaning forward.

"More than 'trust fund kids who'd never worked a day in their lives.' His words, not mine.”

"Successful people," Novak noted, his pen scratching against his notepad. "Wealthy."

“So, what about the process made it too hard to expedite Aldridge’s need?” Rachel asked.

"The medical screening process alone takes three months minimum," Fenway explained. Her voice took on a professorial tone, as if she'd given this explanation many times before. "Then there's the psychological evaluation – multiple sessions with different specialists. Financial verification isn't just about having the money; it's about ensuring the long-term stability of the investment. Legal documentation has to be absolutely pristine. And that's before we even begin the medical preparation protocols." She looked to both of them, as if the make sure she wasn’t speaking too much, but carried on when she saw that she had their rapt attention.

"When a client requests expedited preservation, especially on a six-month timeline like his... it's problematic. The preservation process requires precise timing. We need to begin the cooling process immediately after clinical death, but we also need to have administered specific medications beforehand. Some treatments start weeks in advance."

She stood, pacing as she continued. "The legal framework has to be airtight. Insurance, next of kin agreements, advanced directives – rushing all of that and getting sloppy in those areas can get very risky. It practically invites lawsuits. And that's assuming we even have a chamber ready. Each unit has to be prepared specifically for the client, calibrated to their body mass, medical history, cellular stability factors..."

Rachel noted how Fenway's clinical terminology couldn't quite mask the underlying enthusiasm when she spoke about the process. This wasn't just a business for her – it was a calling, a mission she truly believed in.

“But he didn’t want to hear that?” Novak asked.

"Well, from what I recall, he's a very smart man. Went to Yale, I believe. In and out of a few investment firms, I think. He understood it all, and I think that’s why he got so mad. It wasn’t something he could argue about or convince others to change.”

“But I think it’s safe to assume that anyone who could just slap a deposit down on something like cryopreservation must be wealthy,” Rachel said. “It’s one of the reasons Alexander Manning had his issues, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Would you consider Richard Aldridge wealthy?” Novak asked.

“Most would, yes. Maybe not as wealthy as some of our other clients, though.”

“So this isn’t about wealth at all,” Rachel said, essentially thinking out loud to herself. “This is about jealousy. This is about other being able to have a spot while Aldridge couldn’t.”

"All of the victims…” Fenway said. “They’d already put down deposits. Hell, Diana Foxworth was almost paid in full. So maybe that is what he’s going after. But I don’t…I don’t know that Aldridge, based on what I know of him, would be capable of murder.” He was weeping when he left that day and told me to forget the whole thing. But the way he looked at me..." She shuddered slightly. "I should have reported it."

Rachel felt the pieces clicking into place, the pattern emerging with horrible clarity. "The board member from New York – which name is he on the sign-in sheet?”

“Jonathan Maxwell.”

“Is he a client too?"

Fenway's face paled, the blue screen light making her look almost ghostly. "Yes. He helped fund our initial research. He's in town now, actually. For a conference."

"Where?"

"I'm not certain of his hotel, but the conference is at the Metropolitan Convention Center. Most attendees stay at the Radisson nearby." Fenway was already reaching for her phone. "I can call him..."

Rachel was on her feet, adrenaline surging through her veins. This wasn't just a theory anymore – it was their best lead yet. Three victims who'd been in the building with Aldridge, all clients who'd secured their spots years ago. And now Maxwell, another early client, is back in town and potentially exposed. And on the same list, having checked into the building in that same window of time.

"Get us everything you have on Aldridge," she told Fenway, her voice tight with urgency. "Address, photo, medical records – all of it. And call Maxwell. Tell him not to let anyone into his room, no matter who they claim to be."

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