CHAPTER EIGHT

In their time together as partners, Rachel and Jack had gone hunting for evidence and leads in some odd places. But Rachel thought sorting through an array of playbills might be the strangest. She was sitting at her desk in her cubicle, reading over playbills for local plays that had already been performed. They were quite recent, though, and all of them had at least one of the victims' names listed as cast members.

As it turned out, Sarah and Emily had performed in two plays together in the past year and a half. Rachel's hope was that she and Jack would find a few names that overlapped with both actresses. If this killer was indeed targeting actresses, people from the theater world who had worked with the victims could potentially be the best source of information.

As it turned out, her hunch had not only been right, but it had not taken long at all to find a few names. She'd found one, and Jack had come across another. And now, after grabbing the contact information for both, Rachel and Jack sat expectantly at her desk, looking at her cell phone as it started to ring.

The first name was Christine Gonzales, an actress who had shared the stage with both victims in a play called Whispers in the Dark . The playbill had showed the headshots of the cast; Christine looked to be in her mid-to-late thirties, and of Hispanic descent.

The line rang four times before it was answered. A quiet female voice answered. "Yeah?"

Rachel was used to vague, almost rude greetings. In a world where most people simply ignored calls from unfamiliar and unknown numbers, those who did dare to answer were usually quite short and blunt.

"Christine Gonzales?" Rachel asked.

"Yes. Who is this? I swear, if it's some spam call or a—"

"It's not. Ms. Gonzales, my name is Rachel Gift, special agent with the FBI. I'm here with my partner, Special Agent Rivers. We're trying to find answers concerning the deaths of Emily Ross and Sarah Jennings."

"Oh, okay," she said with a tone of slight embarrassment. "Sorry I was so rude."

"No need to be. We got your name from a playbill for Whispers in the Dark. Right now, we're just hoping to speak with people who knew Emily and Sarah, people who might be able to shed some light on their last few days."

"Oh, I see. Well, I hadn't seen Emily for about two or three weeks. Sarah, even more than that. I ran into her at a bar last month, and we ended up sharing a bottle of wine. Pissed our dates off, but it was fun to catch up."

"What can you tell me about them?"

There was a brief pause before Christine's voice, warm and slightly husky, filtered through the receiver. "Oh, Emily," she sighed, the sound mingling with nostalgia. "She was such a light on stage. A real talent, but even more, she had the kindest heart. She'd stay late just to help others run lines. I don't think she even cared if she got a part or not. She just loved to be around the stage, around scripts. She loved every aspect of theater."

"And Sarah?"

"Sarah was a force of nature," she answered with a stiff laugh. "She kept to herself most of the time, but when you let that girl loose on stage…whew, you'd better watch out. She was kind, too, but I do think she had a bit of a temper in her."

"Were you ever aware of any arguments or drama in either of their lives?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Christine replied, her tone growing somber. "I'm telling you…they were both really well-liked. Emily especially. It's such a tragedy what happened."

"Thank you, Christine. Look, you have my number. If anything comes to you in the next few days, please give me a call."

"I absolutely will. Good luck with everything."

After exchanging pleasantries, Rachel hung up and turned to Jack, her brows knit together in thought. "This may sound stereotypical of me, but you'd think actresses would be full of gossip and drama, right?"

"That is a pretty bad stereotype," Jack said in mock disappointment.

"All stereotypes originate from somewhere," she said. "And I think it may have also wiped her right off of our list of suspects."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

Rachel shrugged innocently, already back to the linked names they'd compiled, not wanting to get sidetracked. "Did you get the contact info for Finn Estes?"

"Yep, right here," he said, placing a sticky note on her forearm.

Finn had worked with Sarah on three different plays, and Emily on just one. Still, his intersection of them both made him a point of interest. Rachel made the call and, unlike Christine, it was answered right away. A man's voice filled the line after the first ring, loud and to the point.

"Hello?" he said—though he said it in a way that made it sound like yellow.

"Mr. Finn Estes?"

"Speaking. Who's this?"

Rachel went through her usual introduction, quickly getting to the point. Finn's response was immediate; an enthusiastic tone underscored by an undercurrent of sadness.

"My God, it's awful, right? I mean…God, Sarah Jennings. Now, there's someone who took her craft seriously. Professional to the core," Finn said, his admiration palpable even through the static of the line. "If dedication alone could make a star, she'd be in Hollywood already. Rumor has it she was on her way to New York before all of this mess went down."

"How much insight do you have into her personal life?" Rachel asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid. We got along well and all but we weren't friends off the stage. The only time we ever hung out was at after parties. That sort of thing, you know?"

"Do you think there might have been anyone in your circle who may have been irritated by her work ethic? Maybe someone Sarah sort of rubbed the wrong way?"

"Hard to say," Finn mused. "In this industry, envy and jealousy are pretty common. But Sarah didn't let pettiness affect her. Always focused on the performance."

"Did she ever mention anything about boyfriends or maybe guys from her past?"

"Sorry," Finn said, his tone indicating that he truly was. "I just didn't know her that well."

"Do you know anyone she worked with that would know her fairly well?"

"Um…well, actually, yeah. There's a woman named Barbara...Barbara Kingsley. She's an older lady, and she stopped coming out for auditions as frequently as she used to. I think she was like a mentor to Sarah for a while."

"Does she live here in Richmond?"

"She does. Over near University of Richmond somewhere. Her husband is a professor and the tennis coach or something."

"Perfect," Rachel said. "Finn, thank you so much."

She again went through the nearly mechanical process of ending the call and giving thanks. As she did, Jack was already typing the information into the mobile database on Rachel's laptop, searching for anything on Barbara Kingsley.

"You know," Rachel said as Jack went through the motions to find the right information, "we'll need to speak to the families, too."

"We will," Jack said, without looking away from the screen. "I've already seen where the cops spoke with Sarah's parents soon after her death. And we…wait, here we are. Barbara Kingsley. You ready for the call?"

Rachel nodded and inputted the number into her phone. It rang twice before it was answered by a woman with a rough edge to her voice—the voice of a woman who had probably smoked for the majority of her life.

Rachel once again ran through quick introductions, doing her best to take her time so that she didn't rush through the reason for her call, making it seem as if she might not care. Like the others, Mrs. Kingsley seemed quite impressed and scared that the FBI was calling to ask about the murders of two actresses.

"I'm glad to see these deaths are getting so much attention," Barbara said matter-of-factly. Her voice was tinged with anger, but there was more sadness than anything else.

"We believe the fact that two actresses have been murdered in such a short time makes it clear that the killer is targeting a very particular population," Jack explained, speaking into the phone as it sat on Rachel's desk. "We were hoping you might be able to discuss your time working with Sarah."

There was a pause—a moment's hesitation—before Barbara replied. "I'd be happy to. But if it's all the same to you, there are bits and pieces to this entire ordeal that are a bit…well, tense. Maybe not the best conversation for the phone. Do you think we could we meet?"

This struck Rachel as odd, but also slightly exciting. Maybe they'd finally find a lead worth chasing. "Of course," she said. "Just let us know where and when."

They worked together for the next minute to come up with a time and place to meet. By the time they'd ended the call, they'd come up with the small park by the Benchmark Avenue Library. As Rachel and Jack got up to make their way to the elevators, Jack reached out and took her gently by the arm.

"How are you?"

"I'm good."

"And the headache?"

"It's honestly gone."

"Good. But…and please forgive me for saying this, you look sort of distracted."

"I am. Janelle will be at the house to get Paige off the bus and I know the sedan with the agents are right out on the corner but still…"

"You feel guilty?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to step off this case? I can do it myself, you know."

No, I want to stay on. I just…I feel bad."

"I had a thought about that, you know. What about Stephen Carson?"

The name instantly brought a smile to Rachel's face, but she felt a bit ashamed that she hadn't thought of him in a while. Agent Stephen Carson had stepped in and served as something of a protector for Paige and Grandma Tate when things with Alex Lynch had gotten overly heated. Paige had grown to absolutely adore him and still mentioned him from time to time.

"I don't know. I think Director Anderson would have already assigned him if he thought it was necessary."

"Yeah, but Carson is sort of semi-retired. You could call him yourself and ask just as a favor, not on official channels."

She almost argued it, mainly because she hated asking for help. But she thought of how excited Paige would be to see Agent Carson again. And the idea of him being back in the house did make her feel a bit safer.

"I'll give him a call," she said. "Do you mind updating Anderson on the case while I do it?"

"Sure thing," Jack said. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried off down the hall.

Rachel grabbed her phone to call Carson, but there was a moment where she felt she'd stepped into the past. The mere idea of calling Agent Stephen Carson reminded her far too much of the drama and trauma her family had gone through when Alex Lynch was on the loose and targeting her family.

She pushed past it, though. If she was determined to wrap up this case and make sure her daughter was as safe as possible, she was going to have to ask for help. She took a deep breath, let it out in a shaky sigh, and made the call.

***

An hour later, Rachel and Jack stepped onto the sidewalk that looped around the small park that sat behind Benchmark Avenue Library. Because of the chill in the air, only a few kids were on the playground, giving the quaint little park a quiet feel. The children playing were dressed in cozy jackets and hats, their breath visible in the chilly air. The leaves rustled underfoot as Rachel and Jack walked along the sidewalk. It was constructed of uneven bricks, and trees lined either side, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The library sat at one end of the park, a red brick building with large windows and a pointed roof.

"Over there," Jack murmured, nodding towards a small bench where a woman sat by herself beneath a large oak tree. Her silver hair was swept into an elegant chignon, and she wore a pair of reading glasses at the tip of her nose, which she promptly removed as they approached.

"Mrs. Kingsley?" Rachel asked as they neared her.

"That's me," she said. She did not get to her feet but she did extend her hand for a shake. "And please, call me Barbara."

Rachel nodded as she sat down beside Barbara. Jack remained standing to the side. They exchanged a few pleasantries before getting to the point—something Barbara seemed to appreciate. She seemed a bit nervous to be speaking to them, always looking back out to the playground or the library behind them.

"We're sort of on the clock, trying to find whoever is behind these murders," Rachel said. "So we should get to the point, I suppose. Why did you find it necessary to speak in person?"

"Because I have a name, someone you should probably speak with. But I didn't want to discuss such things over the phone. I don't know. It just didn't seem proper. Like lazy gossip."

"Okay. But first, what can you tell us about Sarah? When was the last time you saw her?"

"In person, just to see one another; it had been a while. Several months, at least. But I did catch her performance of What We Always Forget. It was quite something. She was such a great actress."

"And within the past year or so, do you know of any occurrences where she may have been in danger? Did she mention any arguments, fights, or even just strained relationships with you?"

"No, not at all. Now, I do know she had a strained relationship with her father. Something to do with an uncle getting handsy when she was a kid, I think. But he passed away last year."

"Okay, so tell us about this person you wanted to mention," Jack said.

Barbara's eyes flickered with an unmistakable glint of unease. "There's someone else you should speak to," she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Juliette Warner."

"Who is Juliette Warner?" Rachel asked, leaning forward.

"A former costume designer for the theater," Barbara explained, her fingers interlacing nervously. "She was let go recently—quite abruptly too. It was all hushed up, but Juliette took it poorly."

Jack's brow furrowed, his analytical mind already sifting through the implications. "What makes you think she's involved?"

"Her beliefs were strident," Barbara continued, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. "She had strong opinions about the roles women should play, both on stage and off. And after her layoff, she became quite vocal about her disdain for certain people—mainly certain actresses ."

"Emily and Sarah?" Rachel inquired, the pieces starting to form a chilling picture.

"I know she was irritated with Sarah for sure…but I couldn't tell you exactly why. Just gossip-mill sort of stuff, you know?" Barbara's affirmation was tepid, steeped in uncertainty. "I just know Juliette was angry. Very angry."

"Do you know Juliette personally?" Rachel asked, her demeanor softening to show gratitude yet retaining an air of professional urgency. "Do you have a way to contact her?"

"I do," she said, reaching into the front pocket of her coat. "I've had this for a while now but never actually spoke with the woman.

Barbara fished out an old business card, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she handed it over. It contained Juliette Warner's name and phone number, as well as the odd title of Theater Costume and Cosmetics Expert!

"Do you know if Sarah and Juliette ever had any face-to-face arguments?" Jack asked.

"I don't, but if they did, I wouldn't be surprised. The way I hear it, Juliette had face-to-face arguments with just about every actress in the city. I can't tell you for certain that Juliette had any real issues with either Emily or Sarah, but I can tell you with certainty that she'd know of anyone who did. Juliette is the sort of drama queen who makes it her business to know everyone else's business."

Jack and Rachel exchanged a look and a nod. It seemed silly to have set this meeting up for it to be wrapped up in less than five minutes, but Rachel thought Juliette Warner sounded like a viable lead.

"Thank you, Barbara," Rachel said. "We appreciate it."

Barbara nodded and remained in her seat on the bench as Rachel and Jack started walking away. Rachel looked back toward the woman as they headed for the car. She was staring out at the playground where two young children were clapping wildly at the top of a slide play set. She was clearly sad and despondent…the same expression and tone Rachel had seen and heard from everyone else they'd spoken to so far.

It was becoming clear that these two deaths were hitting the theater community hard. And, feeling that sadness and a deep sense of empathy that she knew came directly from having recently lost Grandma Tate, Rachel internally vowed to catch this killer no matter what it took.