CHAPTER EIGHT
The shrill ring of her phone cut through the darkness, jerking Kate from a deep sleep.
She fumbled for her phone on her nightstand, her eyes squinting against the bright display. She could have sworn she'd put it on silent before bed, but old habits die hard, she supposed. It was one of those small things from her constant bureau days that she kept forgetting to change.
"DeMarco? What's going on?"
"Kate, I'm sorry to wake you, but I'm en route to a potential crime scene that looks like it could be connected to Carol Bennett.
" DeMarco's voice carried that familiar urgency that Kate had come to recognize over their years of partnership.
"I know you're not officially on this case, but I thought you might want to know… and maybe even come along."
Kate sat up in bed, the fog of sleep clearing from her mind as she considered the offer.
Part of her wanted to say no, to roll over and go back to sleep, to maintain the boundaries she'd been trying to establish.
But the investigator in her, the part that had never fully retired, stirred with interest. She thought long and hard about it, weighing her desire to be involved against her promise to herself about stepping back.
She thought so long that DeMarco said: “Kate? Did you fall back asleep?”
“No. I’m here. Where is it?”
"About fifteen minutes from your place. I can pick you up in ten if you're interested."
Kate glanced over at Allen, who was beginning to stir from the conversation. The decision felt heavier than it should have, loaded with implications about what kind of life she was choosing to lead. But her curiosity won out… as it usually did.
"Alright. I'll be ready."
"Great. See you in ten."
As Kate ended the call, Allen rolled over, his hair tousled with sleep and his eyes barely open. "Let me guess," he said with a drowsy smile, "one of your friends wants to grab coffee at midnight?"
"Something like that." Kate swung her legs out of bed and reached for the clothes she'd laid out on the chair the night before. "DeMarco has a scene that might be connected to the case I was consulting on yesterday."
Allen propped himself up on one elbow, more awake now. "The empty nest thing?"
"Yeah." Kate pulled on her jeans and reached for a sweater. "I'm sorry about this. I know it's late."
"It's fine," Allen said, though she could hear the resignation in his voice. It wasn't irritation, exactly, but something close to it. "Just tell your friends to stop calling so late. Some of us need our beauty sleep."
Kate leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'll try to keep it quiet when I get back."
"Be careful," he murmured, already settling back into his pillow. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Kate finished getting dressed quickly, quietly grabbed her badge and gun from the safe in the bedroom, and made her way downstairs.
The house had always felt different in the middle of the night, more spacious somehow, the familiar creaks and settles of the old structure more pronounced in the silence.
She checked on Michael, who was sleeping peacefully in what he was currently lovingly calling his Big Boy Bed, then grabbed her jacket from the hall closet.
She was waiting on the front porch when DeMarco's sedan pulled into the driveway, its headlights cutting through the darkness of the suburban street.
Kate felt a familiar flutter of excitement in her chest as she walked toward the car, the same anticipation that had driven her through decades of cases.
She slid into the passenger seat and the familiar scent of DeMarco's car – a mixture of coffee, leather, and the faint trace of the vanilla air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
"Thanks for coming," DeMarco said as she backed out of the driveway. "I know this isn't exactly your problem anymore, but I didn’t want to leave you out of it."
"No worries at all,” Kate said, settling into her seat and buckling her seatbelt. “I’m glad you called. Now…fill me in.”
***
By the time they arrived at the Rodriguez home, DeMarco had given Kate all the details she'd gathered from the initial responding officers. Another victim who had opened his home to a child in need to a safe space, and killed by what appeared, at first glance, to look like a heart attack.
The house was a modest two-story colonial in a neighborhood that had seen better days, with small front yards and driveways barely wide enough for one car.
Police vehicles lined the street, their red and blue lights creating an intermittent light show against the neighboring houses.
It all looked quite foreboding in the gloom created by streetlights and a pitch-black night.
The home's front door stood open, spilling warm light onto the small concrete porch.
Kate could see uniformed officers moving around inside, their radios crackling with periodic updates.
A woman in her forties sat on the front steps, wrapped in a thick bathrobe and talking quietly to a female officer who was taking notes.
"I’m assuming that's Maria Rodriguez," DeMarco said as they approached the house. "She's the one who found him... the daughter."
Maria looked up as they approached, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying.
She had dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and the kind of exhausted expression that came only from grief and loss.
The officer standing with her, a young woman with short blonde hair, stood up as Kate and DeMarco showed their credentials.
"Agent DeMarco," the officer said. "Thanks for getting here so quickly.
And you must be Agent Wise." They all shook hands as the officer said: "I'm Officer Jenkins.
Ms. Rodriguez has been very cooperative, though understandably shaken.
She's already given us her statement twice, but she's willing to go through it again if you need her to. "
Maria nodded as she looked to the agents. Kate crouched down next to Maria, bringing herself to eye level. "I know this is difficult, and I know you've already told your story. But would you mind walking us through what happened tonight? Sometimes fresh ears pick up details that others might miss."
Maria wiped at her eyes with a tissue that had clearly seen heavy use. "It's okay. I understand. I…God, it still doesn’t even seem real. Maybe the more I tell it, the more real it… it…"
She stopped here to catch her breath and stifle a sob.
"Take your time," Kate said gently.
Maria took a shaky breath and bit nervously at her bottom lip.
"I've been staying here with Dad for the past few weeks with my kids.
We had to leave our house because of... problems with my husband.
" She wiped at her eyes again. "Dad said we could stay as long as we needed to. He was so good to us. Even with his health issues, he didn’t even hesitate to take us in. "
"So you’ve been living here?" Kate asked gently.
"Yes. I had put the kids to bed around nine, and Dad was watching TV in his chair like he always does. But when I went back out to talk to him… he was… was…”
"Where were your children when you found him?" DeMarco asked.
"Upstairs sleeping. I had just put them down.
And when I realized what… what had happened, I called my friend right away, and she came to get them.
She's a good friend…. very close. My kids call her Aunt Trista.
I didn't want them to see their grandfather like that.
" Maria shook her head. "They've been through enough already with everything that's been happening at home. "
Kate studied Maria's face, noting the exhaustion that seemed to go deeper than just tonight's tragedy. "You mentioned your father had been having health issues. What kind of problems was he dealing with?"
"His heart, mainly. He had a heart attack two years ago, and since then, he's been on all kinds of medications.
Blood thinners, cholesterol medicine, beta blockers.
" Maria paused. "And lately he'd been really stressed about us being here.
Not that he didn't want us – he was happy to help – but he was worried about having enough space, about being able to take care of us properly. "
"Had he seemed particularly stressed recently?" Kate asked. "More than usual, I mean?"
Maria considered this. "I guess it stressed him out the two times my husband came by.
He'd get pretty worked up about that, but in the end, it all sort of relieved itself.
Also… he kept talking about maybe needing to find us a bigger place, somewhere more permanent, just in case we all needed to stay together for a long time.
He felt bad that the kids had to share the small upstairs bedroom, and he was worried about me sleeping on the couch.
" She looked down at her hands. "I kept telling him it was fine, that we were grateful just to have somewhere safe to stay, but he was the kind of man who wanted to fix everything for everyone. "
Kate and DeMarco exchanged a look. The stress of suddenly having his daughter and grandchildren living with him, especially under difficult circumstances, could certainly have contributed to Victor Rodriguez's anxiety levels.
"Would it be alright if we took a look around?" Kate asked. "Just to get a better sense of what happened?"
"Of course. The police already said it was okay." Maria stood up, pulling her robe tighter around herself. "Do you want me to show you around, or would you prefer to look on your own?"
"We can manage," Kate said. "Why don't you stay here with Officer Jenkins? We won't be long."
The interior of the Rodriguez house was clean but dated, with furniture that looked like it had been purchased in the 1990s and carpet that had seen a stain or two.
The living room was small and cluttered with the accumulated possessions of a long life: family photos covering every surface, stacks of books and magazines, a collection of ceramic figurines on the mantelpiece.
Victor Rodriguez lay on the floor of the bathroom, his body positioned as if he'd done his best to catch himself on the sink when he fell. He was a thin man in his seventies, wearing a cardigan sweater over a white undershirt and brown slacks. His face was surprisingly peaceful.
The coroner's assistant stood inside the bathroom, taking notes with his phone.
He was a younger man, dressed in scrubs and sneakers.
He looked up as they entered and said, with little to no emotion, "Looks like a straightforward cardiac event.
No obvious signs of trauma or struggle. We'll know more after the autopsy, but I'd guess his heart just gave out. "
Kate studied the scene, her trained eye taking in details that might not be obvious to others.
She knew that the biggest link here wasn’t anything tangible; it was the fact that Mr. Rodriguez had recently opened his home to a child in need.
And there was also the fact that he had recently been having health issues.
"Would you mind if I took a look at his medications?” she asked the coroner’s assistant. “I'm curious about what he was taking."
"Be my guest. Just don't disturb anything, please."
Kate stepped inside, finding the space even smaller and more cramped than it had seemed from the outside. The medicine cabinet was to the right of the sink, in a drawer…so not really a medicine cabinet. It was filled with prescription bottles, their labels facing outward in neat rows.
Most of the medications were what she'd expect for an elderly man with heart problems: Metoprolol for blood pressure, Lipitor for cholesterol, and Warfarin for blood clots. But one bottle caught her attention immediately. The label read "Lorazepam 1mg."
It was an anti-anxiety medication – and the prescribing physician was listed as Dr. Cassandra Chen. It was the same anti-anxiety medication she’d prescribed for Carol Bennett.
Kate felt her pulse quicken. She looked over to DeMarco and showed her the bottle.
"Same doctor as Carol Bennett," DeMarco said quietly.
"Same doctor," Kate confirmed. "And same prescription, too. And look at the date on this prescription. It was filled just two weeks ago."
DeMarco studied the label. "You think there's a connection?"
Kate looked around the small bathroom, taking in the other details she'd missed on her first pass.
The other medication bottles were organized with the kind of precision that suggested someone who took their health seriously, someone who wouldn't make careless mistakes with their pills.
But the Lorazepam bottle was slightly out of place, sitting at an angle that didn't match the careful arrangement of the others.
"I think it’s very suspicious, actually," Kate said. "
They made their way back to the living room, where Maria was had come inside. She was sitting with Officer Jenkinson the couch. The coroner's assistant was preparing to remove the body with the help of the ME, who had just arrived. It all now had the feel of a scene that was beginning to wind down.
"Mrs. Rodriguez," Kate said, approaching her gently. "I have one more question. Do you know if your father was seeing a psychiatrist or therapist recently? Someone who might have prescribed him anxiety medication?"
Maria looked surprised. "Dad seeing a shrink? No, I don't think so. At least, if he was, he certainly didn’t tell me.”
“Did you know he was one anti-anxiety medication?”
She shook her head slowly, as if ashamed of not knowing this bit of information.
“Well, that’s all out of us for now,” DeMarco said. “We’ll reach out if we have any further questions. And I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Maria said in little more than a whisper.
As they prepared to leave the scene, Kate found herself feeling that the solid lead they’d established was a string one.
Jake Bennett had been a suspect due to mere circumstance.
But right now, every single finger in the case seemed to be pointing to Dr. Cassandra Chen, and the line of evidence was simple enough to follow.
Both victims were empty-nesters. And they had both been prescribed the same medicine by Dr. Cassandra Chen.
And both were now dead.
The next step was quite obvious, and it was communicated in nothing more than a glance between Kate and DeMarco as they got back into the car under a moonless sky that seemed indifferent to the entire ordeal.