“Agent Gift, right?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Something else we can do for you?”

  “Maybe so. So, we now strongly believe that the killer we’re after somehow has access to your waiting list. And while we have the names and addresses, thanks to your cooperation, I was rather hoping that I could talk to a few of them. But instead of going down the list one by one—which would take a considerable amount of time—I was hoping you may be able to point me to a few that seem a little more hopeful than the others.”

  The question seemed to baffle the woman at first, but Rachel barely noticed. Instead, she was hung up on her own revelation. She was starting to understand that she personally needed to speak with those people—not for the case, but because of her own needs and internal struggles. She was one of them, whether she wanted to admit it or not. And now, on the cusp of agreeing to an experimental treatment with Dr. Emerson, she needed the encouragement.

  “Well, I can only base what I know about our clients on my brief experiences with them as they check in and when I speak to them on the phone. If you need something deeper, you’d need to speak with some of our doctors or therapists.”

  This was an obstacle she’d been expecting, and the last thing Rachel wanted to do was take another deep dive into the tumultuous, rotten core that seemed to be at the center of Life Fulfilled.

  “Surely there are records somewhere, right?” Rachel asked. “Anything with general remarks about the client’s emotional stability or overall attitude?”

  “There may be,” the woman said, “but I’d need to make a call or two if that’s the sort of thing you’re looking for.”

  It wasn’t the answer Rachel was hoping for, but it was better than nothing. As long as she didn’t have to actually meet with any doctors or therapists, she’d be fine. If she absolutely had to, she supposed she could reach back out to Wes Dalton.

  “That would be great for now,” Rachel asked.

  “And you know, there’s a client here right now,” the receptionist said. “He just came in a few minutes before you did. His name is Nick Nelson and he’s sitting in the first room on the right. He’s a little early for his nine thirty appointment. But he does that sometimes…comes in early to see if he can help out around here.”

  “Help?”

  “Yes. He will sometimes help me file paperwork away—all things that don’t have patient information on them, of course. He’s swept, cleaned the windows, things like that.” She chuckled and said, “So, now that I think about it, he may be the best person for you to speak with.”

  “Thank you,” Rachel said.

  She left the desk and headed down the short hallway. The door to the first room on the right was partially opened, but she knocked anyway.

  “Yes?” a man’s voice said from inside.

  Rachel stepped in and found herself in a room that looked like the perfect mix of an office and a laidback lounge. All of the furniture was plump and colorful. The lighting was very low and almost sensual in a strange way. It was beyond relaxing, the sort of atmosphere that instantly put Rachel at ease.

  And this was a good thing. The plan she had in place was to lie about her identity and maybe be a bit too honest about her current condition. So she’d be lying to a sick and potentially dying person while opening up a wound in herself that she was not yet comfortable with.

  “Are you Nick Nelson?” she asked.

  “I am,” he said with a smile. “And you are?”

  Nick Nelson was a good-looking man, maybe a bit older than forty. He was dressed in a collared shirt and a pair of nice, dark jeans. His dark hair was well-combed and held in place with a bit of product.

  “My name is Abby Granger. I was thinking of trying to get on the waiting list. But I had some questions. I was hoping to talk to some clients before I pulled that trigger, you know?”

  The first lie had been simple. Of course, if Nick Nelson and the receptionist ever spoke, her ruse would be broken. But by the time that ever happened, she’d be out of the building so she really didn’t let it bother her.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” Nick said. “Do you mind if I ask what’s wrong?”

  “A tumor,” she said with a sigh. “And it’s in an area that makes it pretty much fatal to even try to remove it.”

  She felt stunned for a moment. It seemed to be getting easier to tell people, but telling the news to a complete stranger felt odd. It made her feel strangely vulnerable.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  “It is what it is. I’m looking into an experimental treatment that I won’t be able to afford, hence my visit here. Can I ask why you’re here?”

  “Colon cancer. From the way it’s been explained to me, I have a few good weeks left before I’ll start really falling apart. I’ve done some chemo had it’s helped but…damn, do I hate chemo.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Rachel said. “The lady up front said you sometimes come in early to help out around the place. Paperwork, janitorial stuff, things like that.”

  “Yeah, I do. I mean, they’re a non-profit and they’re doing so much for me. Helped me with some bills a few months back, providing rides to the hospital when I can’t drive, that sort of thing. So I figure I should help them in any small way I can.”

  “Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been with them?”

  “Well, I cleared the waiting list a little over three months ago. I was on the waiting list for about six weeks. From what I hear, it’s getting pretty long, so I guess I was lucky.”

  “Have you enjoyed working with the doctors and therapists?”

  He considered this question for a moment and eventually nodded. “Yeah, I guess. It’s weird because I feel bad for them…they’re working so hard to make things comfortable for people they know are very likely going to die. It makes me…I don’t know. It’s why I do my best to help. Not only the people and offices of Life Fulfilled, but the other clients and the ones that are waiting. I mean, I know what that stress of hanging out on the waiting list is like. So whatever I can do to help, even in an unofficial capacity, I’m happy to do it.”

  “Well, it seems like you’re keeping your spirits up,” Rachel said. “Do you have family and friends in your corner to help?”

  “No, not really. It’s the main reason I decided to come to Life Fulfilled.”

  Another question formed on Rachel’s tongue, but she kept it there. Something Nick said had struck her as odd, but she was only putting it together now. She tried to replay everything he’d said, trying to find what didn’t seem right.

  He seemed to sense her unease. He grew slightly rigid in his chair and even in the soft, ambient light and ease of the room, she felt the tension between them. He knew he’d said something he shouldn’t have and simply stared at her, waiting.

  “Well,” she said, suddenly feeling the need to leave the room as quickly as possible, “I’ve bothered you enough. Thanks so much for answering my questions.”

  “Oh, it was no bother. I hope it all works out for you.” He winked at her and said: “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  She smiled the best she could and then left the room. She replayed the last part of their conversation as she hurried by the front desk. She knew what it was now and it settled on her like a soiled blanket as she got back into her car.

  It’s why I do my best to help. Not only the people and offices of Life Fulfilled, but the other clients, and the ones that are waiting. I mean, I know what that stress of hanging out on the waiting list is like…

  He was only a client. How would he have access to the waiting list?

  Because he helps with filing, she told herself. And even though the receptionist said it’s all non-classified material, who’s to say he didn’t happen upon the waiting list somehow?

  Then, of course, there was the tension that had bloomed between them in the silence. He knew he’d slipped up and was waiting to see if she’d notice. When he saw that she had sensed something off, things had changed between them.

  Now the one advantage she had going for her was that Nick Nelson thought that she was poor Abby Granger with a tumor in her head. He had no idea she was an FBI agent.

  It’s him, she thought. And before she could even bother to talk herself out of the notion, she grabbed her phone and called Jack. She knew she couldn’t arrest him then and there, as she’d blatantly lied about her identity. But she could follow him and have Jack confront him and arrest him for mere suspicion.

  It rang twice before he answered. “This is Agent Rivers.”

  “Jack, where are you?”

  “On the way to the office. Why? Where are you? Did you get my t—”

  “I’ve got our guy, Jack. I’m parked right outside Life Fulfilled and he’s inside.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I went inside to ask about a few clients under the pretense of being a possible client, looking for information. He was—”

  She stopped here when she saw Nick Nelson come out of the Life Fulfilled building. He was moving quickly and looking directly across the street to where a parking garage took up the first quarter of the block. His speedy stride and the fact that he was exiting the building before his appointment suggested that his little slip-up, even to someone he had no reason to suspect was up to anything malicious, had rattled him a bit. And as far as Rachel was concerned, that was also an indicator of guilt.

  “He’s on the move, Jack. You’re just going to have to trust me on this. I’m on leave, remember. No gun, no badge. He’s…yeah, he’s headed to the parking garage across the street.”

  “Rachel…if you really think this is him, do not engage. I’m on the way. Just try to keep an eye on him.”

  “Yeah, I’m already ahead of you.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way. And Rachel…please be smart about this.”

  “Always.”

  She ended the call and opened the driver’s side door. When she looked across the street again, Nick Nelson had disappeared behind a column, heading for the stairs on the left side of the garage.

  Rachel waited for a break in traffic before she crossed the street and then, just thirty seconds after Nelson had crossed in front of her car, she also entered the parking garage.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  The parking deck was comprised of three levels, the third serving as the uncovered roof. Because Rachel had spotted Nick Nelson heading to the left upon walking inside, she also went in that direction. The door to the stairway was there, closed and with no window or other break in it to see past it. Rachel recalled the speed with which Nick had come out of the Life Fulfilled building and couldn’t imagine why he’d slow down coming through the parking garage. She highly doubted he knew she was on to him, that she was not Abby Granger but instead an FBI agent who had been hunting him down for the last two days. Given that, she doubted he was waiting behind that door, primed to attack her.

  Opening it and quickly pivoting inside with her arms drawn up in a defensive fighting posture, she found that she was right. The stairwell was empty. She could, however, hear the faint sound of footsteps overhead and the sound of a heavy door either being pushed open or sliding closed on its hinges.

  She hurried up the stairs, moving carefully so that her own footfalls would not be heard upstairs. When she came to the door, it was less than an inch from closing back into its frame. Rachel held her hand out to stop it and in a deft move, pushed it slightly open and slid out into the space of the second floor. Her right hand flinched as it fought the instinct to go for her Glock—a Glock that was, of course, not there.

  The second level was just over half full. She figured there were thirty cars occupying roughly fifty spaces before a left-hand turn led to a ramp that stopped at the third level. What truly alarmed her, though, was that she did not see Nick Nelson. He couldn’t have been any more than half a minute ahead of her when she’d entered the stairwell, but he seemed to have disappeared. Rachel stood still for a moment, listening for the sound of an engine starting. Maybe, she thought, he’d already gotten into his car.

  But ten seconds passed and she heard no such thing. She walked out into the second level, walking directly in the center of the lane that separated the parking spots to her right and those to the left. She peered through the windows of every car she passed, looking for any sign of Nick Nelson simply sitting there, biding his time. But by the time she was halfway down the row, she’d not seen him and she also had not heard any engine starting up.

  She took another step forward and froze in place as she heard a voice behind her. It was her name, in a whisper: “Rachel.”

  It came from behind her, somewhere every close by. This was unnerving because as she’d looked through the windows of the cars she’d passed by, she’d also looked to the spaces between the cars. She assumed Nelson could have easily been hiding by kneeling down in front of a car and then maneuvering around behind her. But as she turned around, she still didn’t see him.

  And just like that, she was no longer the one in pursuit; she was the one being pursued.

  She thought of the “unofficial capacity” he’d spoken about and how he was trying to help those on a waiting list he should not have access to. It was more than enough to solidify in her mind the idea that he was indeed the killer. In his twisted mind, he was doing those people a service.

  Then again, he’d just said her name—her real name. He knew somehow. But the question remained, did he believe everything she said to be a lie? Did he somehow have a radar within him that had latched on to her story about the tumor and knew it to be true, unlike the alias she’d given?

  She turned, facing in the direction she’d heard his voice. There were two cars behind her and then a concrete pylon, a column that ran from the pavement to the girders along the underside of the third level. She eyed the cars carefully as she took two more steps forward and then her eyes went to the pylon. She clenched her fists, not sure what to prepare herself for.

  And then she felt a dizzy spell coming on, pushed forward by a slight pulsing ache in her head.

  No. No, not now…

  She took a deep breath and summoned all of her focus and concentration. She knew that everything was riding on what might happen in the next few moments—catching a killer, closing this case. She’d told Jack she could get a handle on this, so now was the time to prove it. She focused on her breath, trying to lessen the way her adrenaline wanted to take control. She focused on the opening and closing of her fists, felt the breaths coming in and then pushing out of her body.

  Slowly, the dizziness faded. The dull, pulsing ache remained, but it was virtually nothing, just a buzzing in the back of her head.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, Rachel took a swift step to the side of the pylon, but there was nothing there to see. With her fists still clenched, she took a step back and when she did, she caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her left eye. She moved just in time to avoid the blow that was coming her way. As she dodged hard to the left, she saw Nick Nelson following through with his attack. There was something in his hand, a short, blunt object that looked like an old-fashioned club or lead sap. It struck the pylon with a loud whack. And then, realizing right away that he’d missed, he brought the club around in a back-handed attack.

  She was so caught off guard and in the middle of her first dodge that Rachel was not able to completely dodge this blow. It struck her hard on the meat of her shoulder and sent her stumbling a bit.

  Nelson came charging at her with the club raised over his shoulder. “I just want to help,” he hissed while barreling ahead.

  Still in mid-stumble, Rachel planted her hands on the pavement and kicked out hard with her right foot. It connected squarely with Nelson’s hip, driving him back. He struck the bumper of a minivan and rebounded with a gasp as the breath went out of him. Still, he had the strength and wherewithal to lash out with another attack. But because he’d had the wind knocked out of him, there was very little strength behind it.

  That was her single saving grace, as she was getting to her feet and regaining her balance. The club landed a glancing blow on the side of her head. It honestly didn’t hurt all that much but the entire world instantly grew dizzy. She stumbled backwards again, her arms pinwheeling for balance.

  Nelson surged forward, this time raising the club overhead. Rachel was seeing two of him and did her best to narrow her vision, squinting her eyes to find the open target of his throat. She delivered a hard right-handed jab that caught him just below the neck. Nelson dropped like a sack of bricks, gasping and coughing. Meanwhile, Rachel waved her hand out to find the pylon that she’d peered around just twenty or so seconds ago.

  Just a few feet away, Nick Nelson was scrambling to his knees. Though Rachel did not have her full balance back, the world still reeling and rocking from the soft blow to her head, she advanced on him. She did her best to deliver a knee to his ribs and though she did make contact, she was also unable to stay on her feet.

  Nelson screamed in agony as something in his side popped. Both of them fell to the pavement in a heap, Nelson’s sap clattering around somewhere near Rachel’s head. She reached for it and grabbed it, bringing it to her. She slowly made it to her knees again only to see that Nelson, still gasping and now heavily favoring his left side, was ambling away. He wasn’t able to sprint, but had taken on a lopsided jog toward the stairwell door.

  Rachel grunted and got to her feet. Her head was starting to pound a bit now and as she tried to follow after him, she wondered what sort of effects a blow to the head might have on someone with an inoperable tumor in their brain. The parking garage still seemed to be swaying all around her, but she did her best to stay within the lane between the two sides of the parking area.

  Ahead, she saw Nelson open the door and enter the stairwell. She knew she had to get there quickly, not sure if he’d go up to the third floor or try an easier retreat down to the first. Yet as she closed in on the stairwell, she saw that she wasn’t going to have to decide after all. She watched the door come flying open again as two men came bursting through it.