“Hey Paige,” she said, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. “What do you say we get out of here tomorrow. Just you and me? We’ll take a trip to see Grandma Tate.”
This snapped her out of her movie-trance at once. She leaped up on the couch and clapped her hands. “Grandma Tate? Yeah! Let’s go!”
“Well, it’s a long drive. Let me call her and we’ll make sure it’s okay first. And if she’s good with it, we’ll head down tomorrow.”
Paige nodded, very excited, and plunked back down on her butt to watch the movie. Rachel had no idea if her spontaneous idea was a good one or a bad one, but having told Paige, it was too late to change her mind now. She briefly considered work, but she figured Anderson would surely not expect her to come in for a few more days, given everything that had gone down with Alex Lynch.
Slowly, Rachel went upstairs and retrieved her cell phone. She saw that she had a few texts from Jack. He’d been texting here and there ever since the dead squirrel had been found in Paige’s room, just making sure she was okay. He was also letting her know that he was making damn sure everything humanly possible was being done to find out how Lynch had contacted someone from the outside to do such a thing.
Rachel chose not to read the texts just yet, instead going to her contacts. But as her finger hovered over Grandma Tate’s number, that emotional wall came down faster and Rachel finally allowed herself a moment of weakness.
She fell onto her bed, buried her head into her pillow, and cried harder than she had in all her life. Behind all of the sorrow was the still-lurking anger towards Alex Lynch and a very tenuous set of plans as to how she might put a stop to whatever he was doing. Realizing there was no way she could actually have a conversation with Grandma Tate without her figuring out something was amiss, Rachel opted to text her. Through tear-streaked eyes, she typed in: How do you feel about some visitors tomorrow? Just a day or two?
She barely had enough time to wonder if it was almost rude to ask such a thing without any sort of lead-up before the response came through. She sometimes forgot just how quick Grandma Tate was to respond to texts.
Yes, please. Especially if Paige is part of the deal. When will you be here?
Rachel managed a thin smile, but as she typed in her response, she wondered if she was legitimately paying a visit to an ailing loved one, or if she was just running away.
CHAPTER THREE
They left the following day, and Rachel wasn’t sure if she should be relieved by the fact that Paige had not asked why her father wasn’t coming along. Maybe the girl was more observant than Rachel was giving her credit for, and even at a young age understood that something was off between her parents, and they needed some time away from one another.
Peter had texted the night before, letting Rachel know that he was checked into a Hilton. He’d be staying there for at least three days and going to work as usual. After that, he wasn’t sure and would keep her posted. He’d step in and watch Paige for the foreseeable future, until they could work things out between them—whatever that looked like.
Rachel found herself reading through his texts again while standing outside of a fast-food restroom in Charlotte, North Carolina, waiting for Paige to come out. Paige was old enough now where she was embarrassed for Rachel to go into a public restroom with her, but Rachel was not comfortable with just letting her roam into a random McDonald’s unattended.
As she waited for Paige, Rachel also checked the last texts from Jack. Reading through them, she was reminded how good of a friend Jack had always been—a solid friendship that was usually hidden under the formalities of their jobs. The last call she received from him told her that he’d personally spoken with the Richmond chief of police that was responsible for stationing two men in front of her house at all times.
You’re safe, he’d texted. And you’ll remain safe until this is all over. We’re looking hard into who may have broken into your home. Director Anderson sent some agents to visit Lynch to get him to talk. No luck so far.
When Paige came stepping out of the restroom, Rachel put her phone away and smiled down to her daughter. “All good to go?”
“Yeah. Mom, you didn’t have to come in.”
“Oh, yes I did,” she said, and in the back of her head, she saw that dead squirrel vividly.
***
Miraculously, Rachel was able to complete the drive to Aiken, South Carolina, without stopping for more bathroom breaks. Grandma Tate greeted them warmly, waiting for them on her front porch. Rachel noticed that when Paige hugged her grandmother, she did so very cautiously. She still didn’t understand quite what was wrong with Grandma Tate—just that she was sick and it was a serious sort of sick that might not always look too bad.
“I don’t know what your parents have told you,” Grandma Tate told Paige, “but things aren’t that bad yet. Now how about giving me a proper hug?”
As Rachel watched them embrace, she was reminded of how Paige had found out about Grandma Tate’s diagnosis in the first place. It had been Peter, telling her in an almost causal way while she, Rachel, had been out of town on a case. It was a wretched feeling, but in that moment, she hated him a bit and was glad he’d stepped out.
Grandma Tate led them inside and right away, Rachel knew how the visit was going to go. Grandma Tate was going to do everything she could to make sure it was a fun trip—to make sure no sad or awkward conversations popped up. She’d already taken out some of Paige’s favorite board games, stacked on the coffee table and waiting to be opened. She’d also taken out an old cookbook and insisted that Paige help her learn to finally make a cheesecake that doesn’t fall apart.
Rachel smiled through it all, all the way up to that afternoon when they ended up in the back yard, playing a very sloppy and unorthodox game of croquet. She understood the need for distraction and deflection. After all, Grandma Tate and Paige still didn’t know about her diagnosis. On top of that, she had no intention of telling her grandmother that it appeared her marriage might also be over. As for the unfortunate event of the dead squirrel in Paige’s room, there was no way in hell she was talking about that. She’d even had a discussion with Paige on the way down about how they shouldn’t tell Grandma Tate about it because it would only make her worry; and worrying was not something she should be doing in her current state.
The drive down had taken its toll on Rachel, so when the Candyland board was pulled out after dinner, she opted to just relax on the couch while Paige and Grandma Tate played. She thought of how ironic and odd it was that, somehow, she and Grandma Tate had right around the same amount of time left to live. And if Peter was indeed out of the picture, what did that mean for the amount of time she and Grandma Tate might have together? As far as Rachel was concerned, Grandma Tate could spend a few weeks with her and Paige.
But there were other things to be considered as well, of course. If she had about a year or so left, how many of those weeks would she be able to spend working? How much of that time would she still have full and functioning control of her body? A year went by pretty damned fast, and she needed to make some hard decisions sooner rather than later. Right now, watching Paige giggle as Grandma Tate had to go back several spaces on the board, Rachel knew she wanted to spend as much time with her daughter as possible.