CHAPTER ELEVEN
They took the elevator up from the parking garage, entering a business district that looked like it had been renovated within the past few years.
The hallways were wide and bright, with modern art on the walls and potted plants positioned at regular intervals.
Second Act Success occupied a corner suite with frosted glass doors and the company name etched in elegant lettering.
Inside, the reception area continued the upscale aesthetic. Comfortable seating, a glass coffee table with carefully arranged magazines, and a reception desk that curved in a sleek arc. A young woman looked up as they entered, her professional smile already in place.
"Can I help you?"
Sloane showed her credentials. "We're here to see David Crawford. It's regarding an active investigation."
The receptionist's smile faltered slightly. "Let me check if he's available." She picked up the phone and spoke quietly for a moment, then nodded. She seemed eager to help, and the call took less than ten seconds. "He'll be right out."
Kate and Sloane waited near the reception desk. Through the glass walls, Kate could see an open office space with several desks, most of them empty at this hour. A few people were still working, packing up their things or finishing phone calls.
David Crawford appeared from a hallway to the left.
Kate's first impression was that he looked exactly like someone who would run a successful coaching program.
He was in his early forties, with styled dark hair and a tailored suit that he wore quite well.
He was the sort of handsome forty-something that could probably pull off early-thirties on a good day.
His smile was confident, practiced, the kind that put people at ease while also establishing that he was in control.
"Agents," he said, extending his hand first to Sloane, then to Kate. "David Crawford. I understand you're here about an investigation?"
"That’s right,” Sloane said. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?"
"Of course. Let’s head to my office." Crawford gestured for them to follow him down the hallway. "Though I have to say, this is unexpected. We're a mentorship program, not exactly the type of organization that usually draws FBI attention."
His office was spacious, with a large desk, several comfortable chairs, and a wall of windows that looked out over the business district. Motivational quotes hung on another wall, professionally framed. Kate saw "It's Never Too Late" and "Your Second Act Starts Now" among others.
Crawford sat behind his desk and gestured for them to take the chairs across from him. He didn’t exactly look worried, but he was definitely interested in what they had to say. "So, what can I help you with?"
Sloane pulled out her phone and opened her notes. "We're investigating two murders that occurred in the past week. Both victims had completed your Second Act Success program."
Crawford's expression shifted from confident to genuinely shocked. "Oh… oh my God. Murders? Can I ask who?"
"Rachel Thornton and Patricia Holmes."
He stood up abruptly, his chair rolling backward. As his bottom lip trembled and his eyes opened wide, Kate was sure he might start weeping. "Rachel and Patricia? Are you serious?"
"I'm afraid so," Kate said, watching his reaction carefully. "Both women were killed in their homes within the past three days."
Crawford walked to the window, his back to them.
When he turned around, he looked shaken in a way that seemed authentic.
Kate saw that a single tear had indeed made its way down his face.
"I can't believe this. They were both wonderful women.
Rachel was doing so well with her design business, and Patricia's life coaching practice was taking off based on some of the news I’d heard.
And… and..." He shook his head. "What happened? "
"That's what we're trying to determine," Sloane said. "We need to know everything you can tell us about your program and how these women participated. Because right now, it’s the only thing linking them."
Crawford returned to his desk and sat down as some of his composure returned.
"Second Act Success is a mentorship program for people over fifty who are starting new careers or businesses.
We provide structured business planning, networking opportunities, and ongoing support.
We've helped hundreds of women launch legitimate businesses. "
"How does the program work?" Sloane asked.
"Participants sign up for a twelve-week cohort.
They work in small groups, usually six to eight people, to develop their business concepts.
Each person has a mentor, someone with experience in their chosen field.
We cover everything from market research to financial planning to marketing strategies.
" Crawford stopped for a moment and pulled up something on his computer, apparently looking for something.
"Both Rachel and Patricia were in Cohort 47, which concluded about eight months ago. "
Sloane leaned forward slightly. "After they complete the program, do you maintain contact with them?"
"Not regularly, no. We send out a monthly newsletter and invite graduates to networking events, but we don't have ongoing one-on-one contact.
" Crawford's tone became slightly defensive.
"We're a mentorship program, not a support group.
Once participants graduate, they're equipped to run their businesses independently. Sometimes successful graduates will stop by to visit, just to say hello and spread the cheer, but that’s about it. "
"But you do use their success stories for promotional purposes?" Kate asked. She wished she had not asked; she really wanted to make sure Sloane felt that she was running the show.
"Well, yes. When graduates do well, we like to highlight that. It shows potential participants what the program can achieve." Crawford looked between them as a bit of concern started to creep into his features. "Is that relevant to the investigation?"
"We're just trying to understand the full picture," Sloane said. She pulled up something on her phone, looked at it for a moment as she considered, and then leaned in even closer. "Where were you two nights ago between ten a.m. and two p.m.?"
Crawford's expression hardened slightly. For a moment, it looked as if he’d been slapped. "You're asking for my alibi?"
"We're asking the only person we know of that is connected to the victims about their whereabouts," Sloane said, clarifying.
"I was… I was at home. All night.”
“Are you married?”
“I am. And we have two kids. They’ll prove that I was home.”
“And what about all day yesterday?” Sloane asked, giving him little time to breathe.
“I was here, in the office. I had meetings all morning and afternoon.
" His voice had taken on an edge. "You can check with my assistant if you need verification.
" He stood up again, and this time his body language was less shocked and more irritated.
"I understand you have to ask these questions, but I hope you're not suggesting I had anything to do with what happened to Rachel and Patricia. "
Kate noticed the shift in his demeanor. He'd gone from genuinely upset to defensive, and it made her wonder what he was protecting.
His reputation, probably. Having the FBI investigate murders connected to his program couldn't be good for business.
Even if he was one hundred percent innocent, it would be more than enough to get him worried.
"We need access to your program records," Sloane said, not backing down from her aggressive approach. "Participant lists, mentor assignments, business concepts developed, anything that might help us understand if there's a connection we're missing."
"You think other participants might be in danger?"
"It's possible. And, as I said, anyone linked to the two victims is of interest. Can you think of anyone else in your program that was close to both women?”
To his credit, Crawford did take some time to think about it, but he started to shake his head after about ten seconds or so. “No… no, not that I know of."
“Would we be able to find things like that in your records?”
“I… I don’t know,” he said, sitting back and letting out a huge sigh. "This is going to destroy the program. If word gets out that two graduates were murdered, no one will want to join."
The comment rubbed Kate the wrong way. Two women were dead, and Crawford's first concern seemed to be his program's reputation. She understood the impulse to protect something you'd built, but the timing of it felt off.
"We need those records," Kate said, her voice firm. "Today, if possible. As this is not a very public case yet. If we can get the answers we need, the organization itself may be able to come away unscathed."
Crawford looked at her, then at Sloane, and seemed to realize he didn't have much choice. "Fine. I'll have my assistant pull everything. Give me a few minutes."
“Thank you,” Sloane said in a tight, crisp manner.
He left the office, and Kate and Sloane exchanged glances. "He got defensive fast," Sloane said quietly.
"Very fast. Especially about his whereabouts. That happens, though… especially to someone in his position, with this sort of organization under him. Not just employees relying on him, but people trying to get a fresh start, too." Kate shrugged and said, “I get it.”
Sloane nodded, and Kate watched as she slipped back into that very concentrated look—a look that Kate was already starting to understand was a processing phase.
Sloane was taking in all she'd heard and mentally categorizing it and breaking it down.
Honestly, Kate found the far-off stare and stillness a bit socially off-putting.
Crawford returned a few minutes later, carrying a small stack of folders.
A younger woman was walking behind him; she carried a laptop and several file folders.
"This is my assistant, Paula,” Crawford said.
“She's pulling up the digital records now.
The physical files are here." He indicated the folders he was holding as he said this.
"Is there a room where we can review these?" Kate asked.
“Yes, but…” Crawford checked his watch. "The office closes at 6:30. I'd like to get out on time if possible."
Again, Kate understood this, but the comment struck her as wrong. They were investigating murders, and he was worried about his schedule. She kept her expression neutral, but internally, she was cataloging every aspect of Crawford's behavior that felt off. She assumed Sloane was doing the same.
"We won't keep you," Sloane said, though her tone suggested she didn't particularly care about his timeline. "We just need space to work."
"There's a conference room on the other side of the building. You can use that." Crawford gestured for them to follow him, still holding the folders. "Paula will get you set up with everything you need."
They followed Jennier, walking through the office space, passing empty desks and offices where the last few employees were shutting down their computers. Crawford led them to a small conference room with a table, six chairs, and a wall-mounted monitor.
"This should work," he said. "Paula, make sure they have access to the network drive with all the cohort files. And agents, just let me know if you need me for anything. I have a Zoom call I have to be on in ten minutes,, but I can end it if something pops up."
“Thanks,” Sloane said, with that same tight tone.
Paula nodded and set the laptop on the table, opening it and typing quickly. "I'm logging you in now. All the records for Cohort 47 are in the folder labeled with that number. Is there anything else you need?"
"This is fine, thank you," Kate said.
Crawford lingered in the doorway. "I assume you'll lock up when you leave? Security will be in the building until eight, but I'd prefer if this didn't take all night."
"We'll be as quick as we can," Sloane said, her tone making it clear she wasn't making any promises.
Crawford nodded and left, though Kate noticed he didn't go far… Zoom call or not. Through the glass walls of the conference room, she could see him standing near his desk, pacing nervously.
Kate sat down and pulled the laptop toward her. Sloane took a seat beside her, arranging the physical files so they could cross-reference digital and paper records.
"He's making me uncomfortable," Kate said quietly.
"Same. He seems too worried about his schedule and his reputation,, and not worried enough about these murders. But on the other hand, it didn't take much convincing for him to offer up these files."
"Speaking of… let's see what's in them.”
They settled in to work, aware of Crawford through the glass, still pacing across the office space.