Page 20 of Her Last Choice

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rachel stared at the Life Fulfilled wait list as Jack took a moment to hit a drive-through for an early dinner. While it did her a great deal of good to see both of the names there, thus solidifying the link, there was one thing that bothered her.

“Both Warren and Wells aren’t anywhere near the top of this,” she said. “Twenty-one names, and Wells was number seventeen. Warren was number twelve.”

“I thought the same thing,” Jack said as he took the slightly greasy bag of food from the person at the window. “But for a list like this, I doubt freeing a spot up means someone else instantly fills that slot, in that order. That’s the impression I got when I spoke to Wes Dalton, anyway.”

“Okay, so maybe the killer is someone beneath Wells…someone who’s just trying to work their way up the list any way they can,” Rachel suggested. “One off the list, no matter how low down on the list they may be, means the killer gets moved up a position.”

“Makes sense, I suppose,” Jack said. “And if he’s choosing them randomly, that’s going to make things a bit harder on our end.”

“And that’s if he’s getting the names of these people off of this list. There’s a similar chance he may have somehow gotten the names from the doctors’ offices Wells and Warren were visiting. So we may need to eventually speak to the employees at those offices.”

“You know, I can’t help but notice that you keep saying we,” Jack said. “As if you’re part of this case on an official basis.”

“So I’m just along for the ride?” she asked with a smirk. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“If it happens to come up with Anderson, yes. Actually, I may even say you coerced or bullied me.”

“Well, then if I’m just along for the ride, why don’t you call the office and see if you can get addresses to go with these names and numbers beneath Wells?”

Unwrapping his burger, he said, “Sorry, I’m eating.”

“Yeah, but you—”

Her words froze up for a moment as an enormous wave of vertigo swept through her. It came out of absolutely nowhere, causing her to lean to the right against the door. She closed her eyes but even then, she could feel it. It wasn’t too dissimilar from being drunk, lying down on a bed and closing her eyes, waiting for the world to recenter itself.

The disorientation was accompanied by a very faint throbbing sensation along the back of her head. It did not hurt, but felt more like a slightly pulled muscle. She reached up to massage the area but was so dizzy that her hand missed the back of her head. It felt like she was swimming, doing a backstroke.

“Rachel?”

She took a second to respond to Jack, not sure if she even trusted herself to speak in that moment. Her first rection, of course, was to assume this was related to the tumor. If it was, it was a new symptom. But it was already beginning to pass. And while this was a relief, she knew better than to assume it was gone for good.

“Rachel. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just got a little light-headed for a second.”

“You okay?”

She nodded, finally opening her eyes. Things were a little swimmy, but much better than they had been as recently as five seconds ago. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Maybe I need to take you home.”

“No, I think I’m good. Let’s at least see what we can find out about the people below Wells on the waiting list. You have my word that I’ll let you know if I start to feel off.”

He took a bite of his burger, shaking his head at her. “If you die while shadowing me on this case you haven’t even officially been assigned to—”

“I promise, I won’t die. Not from the tumor, anyway. But you talking to me with a mouthful of food might do it.”

“Smart ass.”

Rachel smiled at him as he drove with his free hand, shoveling more burger in with the other.

***

They started at the very bottom of the list and got an address for a woman named Elizabeth Foster. She lived just off of Broad Street, only a fifteen-minute drive from where Jack had gotten his greasy burger. It was a quaint brownstone, with well-cared-for azaleas lining the sidewalk.

Rachel knocked on the door and it was answered by a younger woman. She was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and loose-fitting khaki shorts. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, and there was a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. She smiled in a practiced and tired sort of way as she greeted them.