CHAPTER EIGHT
Kate followed Sloane through the field office to her cubicle, a compact space with gray fabric walls and a desk that held two monitors, a keyboard, and very little else.
It was plain and stark; there were no photos, no personal items, just a coffee mug with the FBI seal on it and a small potted succulent.
"Sorry about the tight quarters," Sloane said, gesturing to the single extra chair wedged into the corner. "I haven't exactly personalized yet. And I imagine it’ll be ages before I get an actual office."
"It's fine." Kate pulled the chair closer to the desk so she could see the monitors. "I've worked in smaller spaces."
Sloane sat down and woke up her computer, then pulled up her email. "The Patricia Holmes files should be here by now, according to DeMarco.”
Kate couldn’t help but smile. She wondered if she’d ever get fully accustomed to people referring to DeMarco as someone in power. She knew it was strange for DeMarco and even though she certainly deserved it, Kate thought it might still take some getting used to.
Kate watched as Sloane scrolled through her inbox.
There were dozens of unread messages, the kind of backlog that built up when you were in the field more than at your desk.
Kate cringed internally when she saw the amount of unopened email waiting in the young agent’s inbox.
Sloane found what she was looking for and opened the email, then downloaded the attached files.
"Got it," Sloane said. She opened the first document, a police report from three days ago. "Patricia Holmes, age fifty-three, found dead in her home office on the morning of October fifteenth."
Kate leaned forward slightly to read the screen along with Sloane.
The report was thorough, with photographs attached and detailed notes from the responding officers.
Patricia had been found by her sister, who had come over for their weekly tea date and let herself in when Patricia didn't answer the door.
"Same method," Kate said quietly. "Letter opener, single stab wound between the shoulder blades. Body found seated at her desk."
"Identical," Sloane agreed. She pulled up the crime scene photos, and Kate felt a familiar tightness in her chest. Patricia Holmes had dark hair streaked with gray, cut in a practical bob.
She wore jeans and a cardigan, casual clothes for working from home.
The letter opener protruded from her back at the same angle as Rachel's, driven in with precision.
Sloane scrolled through more of the report. "According to this, Patricia lived alone. Divorced, one adult daughter who lives in California. No signs of forced entry, no evidence of a struggle."
"What do we know about her background?" Kate asked.
Sloane opened another file, this time a collected batch of typed notes that appeared to be interview notes.
“The police talked to her sister, several neighbors, and people from her church," Sloane said as she read through.” She read silently for a moment, then looked at Kate.
"She left her corporate job six months ago. "
Kate felt a spark of recognition. "What kind of job?"
"Marketing director for a pharmaceutical company. She'd been there for fifteen years." Sloane kept reading. "The sister says Patricia had been feeling burned out and unfulfilled. She wanted to do something more meaningful."
"And she started her own business?"
"As an independent life coach." Sloane pulled up another section of the report.
"According to multiple people they interviewed, Patricia was using her own experience of getting a new lease on life to help others in similar situations.
Her whole pitch was that it's never too late to start over or try something new. "
Kate sat back in the chair, her mind processing this information.
"Rachel Thornton just started her own business, too.
James told me when we were at their house.
She'd been an accountant for twenty years, but she decided to follow her passion and launch an interior design business.
" For a moment, she recalled the slight shock she’d felt when Sloane had bypassed James altogether—something she figured they needed to address at some point.
"How long ago?" Sloane asked.
"A few months, from what James said." Kate pulled out her phone and opened her notes from the conversation. "He said she was finally doing what she loved."
Sloane turned away from the monitors to face Kate directly. "So both victims were women in their fifties who recently left stable careers to start their own businesses."
"That's the connection," Kate said. "It has to be."
"But what does it mean?" Sloane turned back to the computer and pulled up Rachel's file alongside Patricia's, arranging the windows side by side on her monitors. "Why would someone target women for making career changes?"
Kate studied the two sets of files, looking for any other commonalities.
Both women had been killed in their home offices during business hours.
Both had been stabbed with letter openers that presumably belonged to them.
Both had been positioned carefully at their desks, as if the killer wanted them found in that specific way.
"Maybe it's not about the career change itself," Kate said slowly. "Maybe it's about something else they had in common. A shared client, a business connection, something related to their new ventures."
"Patricia was a life coach," Sloane said. "Rachel was an interior designer. Those are pretty different fields."
"But they might have crossed paths through networking events or business groups. Women starting their own businesses often join support organizations, especially when they're making major career transitions."
Sloane nodded and made notes on her phone. "I'll start calling around to local business associations and networking groups. See if either of them were members."
Kate continued studying the files on the monitors. There had to be something else, some detail that would help narrow down why these two women specifically had been targeted. The killer had chosen them deliberately, had known where they lived and when they'd be home alone.
"Did Patricia have any security cameras?" Kate asked.
Sloane checked the report. "No. The house was older, and she lived in a quiet neighborhood. Her sister said she never worried about safety."
"Same with Rachel. No cameras, no alarm system. Our neighborhood is generally pretty safe."
"So the killer could come and go without being recorded." Sloane pulled up a map on one of her monitors, marking the locations of both victims' homes. "The crime scenes are only about two miles apart. Both in residential areas, both in houses rather than apartments."
Kate looked at the map, seeing the proximity of the crime scenes to her own house. Patricia's address was in a neighborhood she'd driven through countless times. Rachel's house was just streets away from where Michael played in their backyard.
"There's something else," Kate said, an idea forming. "James mentioned that Rachel was excited about her business. She had three clients already and more people calling. What about Patricia?"
Sloane scrolled through the interview notes.
It took nearly a full minute before she found what she was looking for.
"Here we go… her sister said the life coaching business was taking off.
She'd just gotten certified and already had several clients booked.
Said she was blowing up on Instagram and TikTok.
" She paused, reading more carefully. "Maybe the killer saw her on social media if she was gaining a lot of traction there.”
"Rachel might have been doing the same thing,” Kate said. “Most new businesses use social media for marketing." Kate pulled out her phone. "We should check their social media accounts. If they were both advertising their services online, that could be how the killer found them."
Sloane was already typing on her keyboard, pulling up search results. "I'll request access to their accounts. Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, anything that might show their business activities."
As Sloane worked, Kate continued reading through the files on the monitors. The similarities between the cases were striking, but there was still something nagging at her. Some detail that didn't quite fit.
Then Sloane said something that made everything shift.
"You know what's strange?" Sloane stopped typing and turned to look at Kate.
“What’s that?”
"Who owns a letter opener anymore?"
Kate blinked, the question hitting her harder than she’d expected.
. The question hung in the air between them.
Kate felt her perspective on the case shifting, pieces rearranging themselves into a new pattern.
If the killer had specifically targeted women who owned letter openers, that suggested a level of premeditation even beyond what they'd already assumed.
It meant the killer had been in these homes before, or at least had knowledge of what was inside them.
Or it meant something else entirely, something Kate hadn't considered yet.
She looked at Sloane with growing respect. The younger agent had just identified a detail that Kate had completely overlooked, a detail that might be crucial to understanding how the killer was choosing and approaching victims.
"Sloane," Kate said slowly, "that's a damn good question."