Title page

H E R L A S T

C H A N C E

(A Rachel Gift MysteryBook Two)

B L A K E P I E R C E

Blake Pierce

Blake Pierce is the USA Today bestselling author of the RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes seventeen books. Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising fourteen books; of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; of the KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books; of the MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE mystery series, comprising six books; of the KATE WISE mystery series, comprising seven books; of the CHLOE FINE psychological suspense mystery, comprising six books; of the JESSE HUNT psychological suspense thriller series, comprising nineteen books; of the AU PAIR psychological suspense thriller series, comprising three books; of the ZOE PRIME mystery series, comprising six books; of the ADELE SHARP mystery series, comprising thirteen books, of the EUROPEAN VOYAGE cozy mystery series, comprising four books; of the new LAURA FROST FBI suspense thriller, comprising six books (and counting); of the new ELLA DARK FBI suspense thriller, comprising nine books (and counting); of the A YEAR IN EUROPE cozy mystery series, comprising nine books, of the AVA GOLD mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the RACHEL GIFT mystery series, comprising six books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2021 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright oekka.k, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE

RACHEL GIFT MYSTERY SERIES

HER LAST WISH (Book #1)

HER LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

HER LAST HOPE (Book #3)

HER LAST FEAR (Book #4)

HER LAST CHOICE (Book #5)

HER LAST BREATH (Book #6)

AVA GOLD MYSTERY SERIES

CITY OF PREY (Book #1)

CITY OF FEAR (Book #2)

CITY OF BONES (Book #3)

CITY OF GHOSTS (Book #4)

CITY OF DEATH (Book #5)

CITY OF VICE (Book #6)

A YEAR IN EUROPE

A MURDER IN PARIS (Book #1)

DEATH IN FLORENCE (Book #2)

VENGEANCE IN VIENNA (Book #3)

A FATALITY IN SPAIN (Book #4)

ELLA DARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

GIRL, ALONE (Book #1)

GIRL, TAKEN (Book #2)

GIRL, HUNTED (Book #3)

GIRL, SILENCED (Book #4)

GIRL, VANISHED (Book 5)

GIRL ERASED (Book #6)

GIRL, FORSAKEN (Book #7)

GIRL, TRAPPED (Book #8)

GIRL, EXPENDABLE (Book #9)

LAURA FROST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

ALREADY GONE (Book #1)

ALREADY SEEN (Book #2)

ALREADY TRAPPED (Book #3)

ALREADY MISSING (Book #4)

ALREADY DEAD (Book #5)

ALREADY TAKEN (Book #6)

EUROPEAN VOYAGE COZY MYSTERY SERIES

MURDER (AND BAKLAVA) (Book #1)

DEATH (AND APPLE STRUDEL) (Book #2)

CRIME (AND LAGER) (Book #3)

MISFORTUNE (AND GOUDA) (Book #4)

CALAMITY (AND A DANISH) (Book #5)

MAYHEM (AND HERRING) (Book #6)

ADELE SHARP MYSTERY SERIES

LEFT TO DIE (Book #1)

LEFT TO RUN (Book #2)

LEFT TO HIDE (Book #3)

LEFT TO KILL (Book #4)

LEFT TO MURDER (Book #5)

LEFT TO ENVY (Book #6)

LEFT TO LAPSE (Book #7)

LEFT TO VANISH (Book #8)

LEFT TO HUNT (Book #9)

LEFT TO FEAR (Book #10)

LEFT TO PREY (Book #11)

LEFT TO LURE (Book #12)

LEFT TO CRAVE (Book #13)

THE AU PAIR SERIES

ALMOST GONE (Book#1)

ALMOST LOST (Book #2)

ALMOST DEAD (Book #3)

ZOE PRIME MYSTERY SERIES

FACE OF DEATH (Book#1)

FACE OF MURDER (Book #2)

FACE OF FEAR (Book #3)

FACE OF MADNESS (Book #4)

FACE OF FURY (Book #5)

FACE OF DARKNESS (Book #6)

A JESSIE HUNT PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES

THE PERFECT WIFE (Book #1)

THE PERFECT BLOCK (Book #2)

THE PERFECT HOUSE (Book #3)

THE PERFECT SMILE (Book #4)

THE PERFECT LIE (Book #5)

THE PERFECT LOOK (Book #6)

THE PERFECT AFFAIR (Book #7)

THE PERFECT ALIBI (Book #8)

THE PERFECT NEIGHBOR (Book #9)

THE PERFECT DISGUISE (Book #10)

THE PERFECT SECRET (Book #11)

THE PERFECT FAÇADE (Book #12)

THE PERFECT IMPRESSION (Book #13)

THE PERFECT DECEIT (Book #14)

THE PERFECT MISTRESS (Book #15)

THE PERFECT IMAGE (Book #16)

THE PERFECT VEIL (Book #17)

THE PERFECT INDISCRETION (Book #18)

THE PERFECT RUMOR (Book #19)

CHLOE FINE PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES

NEXT DOOR (Book #1)

A NEIGHBORS LIE (Book #2)

CUL DE SAC (Book #3)

SILENT NEIGHBOR (Book #4)

HOMECOMING (Book #5)

TINTED WINDOWS (Book #6)

KATE WISE MYSTERY SERIES

IF SHE KNEW (Book #1)

IF SHE SAW (Book #2)

IF SHE RAN (Book #3)

IF SHE HID (Book #4)

IF SHE FLED (Book #5)

IF SHE FEARED (Book #6)

IF SHE HEARD (Book #7)

THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE SERIES

WATCHING (Book #1)

WAITING (Book #2)

LURING (Book #3)

TAKING (Book #4)

STALKING (Book #5)

KILLING (Book #6)

RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES

ONCE GONE (Book #1)

ONCE TAKEN (Book #2)

ONCE CRAVED (Book #3)

ONCE LURED (Book #4)

ONCE HUNTED (Book #5)

ONCE PINED (Book #6)

ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7)

ONCE COLD (Book #8)

ONCE STALKED (Book #9)

ONCE LOST (Book #10)

ONCE BURIED (Book #11)

ONCE BOUND (Book #12)

ONCE TRAPPED (Book #13)

ONCE DORMANT (Book #14)

ONCE SHUNNED (Book #15)

ONCE MISSED (Book #16)

ONCE CHOSEN (Book #17)

MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES

BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1)

BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2)

BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3)

BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4)

BEFORE HE NEEDS (Book #5)

BEFORE HE FEELS (Book #6)

BEFORE HE SINS (Book #7)

BEFORE HE HUNTS (Book #8)

BEFORE HE PREYS (Book #9)

BEFORE HE LONGS (Book #10)

BEFORE HE LAPSES (Book #11)

BEFORE HE ENVIES (Book #12)

BEFORE HE STALKS (Book #13)

BEFORE HE HARMS (Book #14)

AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES

CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1)

CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2)

CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3)

CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4)

CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5)

CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6)

KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES

A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)

A TRACE OF MURDER (Book #2)

A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3)

A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)

A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

CHAPTER ONE

The suicide gate had been easier to get over than hed thought. He supposed they were a bit more difficult to navigate when the bridge reached out over the East River, but the gates here, where the Williamsburg Bridge hovered over Brooklyn, were minimal at best. Having gotten past the gates, he was now free to look down to the street, wondering if the drop would be high enough to end his life. He was pretty sure hed read somewhere that the portion of the bridge that sat over Brooklyn was about one hundred and ten feet from the ground.

That should be enough, right? He hoped so. The only reason hed waited so long to kill himself was because he feared hed be one of those poor saps who would somehow do it wrong. Hed put a bullet in his head only to have it somehow not kill him, forcing him to live the rest of his life in a vegetative state. Or, in this case, hed jump to the street and break both of his legs or fracture his spine, resulting in a life of paralysis.

Hed opted for the street because he felt venturing out over the East River increased his chances of surviving. Really, how hard could water be from just one hundred and thirty feet up? It seemed risky to himand he figured the hard pavement below was a sure thing.

It was two in the morning, so the darkness made the drop below him seem even farther. Hed chosen this time of the day so no nosy assholes would see him and call the police, but now there was a small part of him that regretted it. If this was indeed his final moment on the planet, it would be nice for someone to see it. And right now, the only people he could see was the couple pressed against one of the buildings down below, furiously making out and lost in their own private little world.

He was going to die alone. Hed made the decision to do this but now hated the fact that hed be doing it with no witnesses.

And why is that?

It was a good question. Jesus, maybe he was being rash. Maybe he wasnt really ready to do this. Surely there was help somewhere out there. He could reach out to his mom and his wife, try to patch things up. He could find some other way out of this. Maybe

Sometimes giving up can be heroic. Sometimes it takes more courage to give up than to lower your head and forge on with something you know just isnt going to work.

That voice was much more pronounced in his head than his own. It was a voice hed heard on the phone about two hours ago, a comforting and warm voice. Its your life, so its also your death, that voice had also said. So shouldnt you be in charge of both?

He looked down to the street, dark and waiting. He could be down there in ten seconds, dead, life over, all of his problems gone.

It was easy to see in his head. Hed probably land face down. His skull would smash, his chest would be shattered, but hed probably feel very little of it. Still, the imagined sight of it was brutal. God, what the hell was he doing?

No. No…not now, he told himself. He took a deep breath and turned back to the suicide gate, wondering if hed be able to scale it. If not, he had his cell phone so he supposed he could call the cops. And wouldnt that be ironic? Hed wanted to avoid having people call the cops to thwart his plans and now here he was, wanting

The figure on the other side of the gate seemed to come out of nowhere, as if the night itself had manifested it.

Who

But that was all he got out. The figure stepped forward quickly and an arm came through the tight bars of the gate. A hand touched his chest, a gentle push at most, and he felt himself being pitched backwards.

By the time he realized what had happened, he had no time to scream. He drew in the breath but it never came out. In the end, he had been only half right. He indeed died very quickly and the pain was a brief flicker at most; but he died with his face looking up to the Williamsburg Bridge as a halo of blood leaked out from his shattered skull onto the pavement.

CHAPTER TWO

There was something about South Carolina that felt a little too southern to Rachel. She knew it was ridiculous, but it was a thought she could not escape. There was the intense pride in southern heritage for one thing, but she was pretty sure it just came down to the humidity. Yes, the summers in Virginia could be brutal, but the humidity a little further south seemed much more oppressive. The damned mosquitos being the size of hummingbirds didnt help either.

She slapped at one as it landed on her Grandma Tates patio chair. She didnt want to kill it, just scare it away. It went flittering off in search of someone elses blood. As she watched it go flying out over Grandma Tates acre and a half of back yard, the back door that connected the patio to the kitchen opened up.

Florence Tate came out carrying a pitcher of sweet tea and two large glasses. She was seventy-three, looked closer to sixty, and carried herself like a forty-year-old. Today, she was wearing a sun hat that Rachel knew looked ridiculous, but Grandma Tate somehow made it look fashionable. She poured them each a glass of tea, wedges of lemon and rapidly melting ice swirling around inside the pitcher as she poured.

We can do dinner later, Florence said. I figure I may as well get the whole danged mess over with. No sense in putting it off now, is it?

Grandma Tate never had been one for beating around the bush, or, as she had always called it, pussyfooting. Yet, for a while there, Rachel had nearly forgotten the whole reason for coming down. Grandma Tate had called last week with a cryptic message, letting her know there was something she needed to say but not over the phone. And when you had elderly loved ones, such a message was never truly a positive thing.

Well, Ive only been here for fifteen minutes, Rachel said. And in that time, I was guided out to the patio and am now being comforted with what I can assume is some exceptionally sweet tea. That, plus you referring to it as a mess is sort of freaking me out.

Florence waved this away as she sat down in the patio chair next to Rachel. There you go, going all FBI on me. She chuckled and let out a sigh. When she looked at Rachel, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, slightly blunted by the shadow of the sun hat falling over her brow. Over the course of the past three months or so, Ive been going back and forth to the doctor, she went on. As of two weeks ago, I officially have breast cancer.

The suddenness of the way she said it struck Rachel in an odd way. Shed known something bad was coming and shed also known that Grandma Tate would be blunt about it. But this was a whole new level. It was so disarming that Rachel almost missed the heaviness and seriousness of the news.

The doctors are sure? Rachel asked. She was aware that she was already feeling the sting of tears, and a lump was forming in the back of her throat. Shed been close to Grandma Tate in her teenage years but theyd grown apart as Rachel got older. She hadnt seen her grandmother face-to-face in over eight months. But despite that distance, the hurt surprise of the moment was no less real.

Yes. Thats whats been going on for these last few months. Tests to be sure and then to figure out how much time I have and if its treatable.

Well, is it?

They think it might be. We caught it late, but not the-sky-is-falling late. Theres chemo, of course, and some other medicines I dont quite understand. And to be honest with you, Im not sure if Im going to look into any of it. The doc basically told me theres nothing much to be done about it.

And then Rachel was crying. Not only that, but the tears seemed to also push another reality to the forefront of her mind. See how easy that was for her? some alien voice told her. She tore that Band-Aid right off and now a loved one knows what shes going through. You could take an example from this…

Rachel shut the thought out quickly. This was not about her or her diagnosisthis was not about the inoperable tumor that was currently taking up residence inside of her brain. This was about Grandma Tate. And even if she did want to tell her grandmother about her own diagnosis, now was not the time. She did not drive all the way down to Aiken, South Carolina, to one-up her with cancer diagnoses.

She sipped from her tea, if only to distract herself. And good Lord, it was about as sweet as shed imagined it would beanother of those southern things. She eyed her grandmother for a moment and saw that while it had seemed easy for her to get the information out, it looked like it had taken an emotion toll. Grandma Tate had a look on her face that was similar to a driver who was coming up on a car accident in the other lane and was trying to decide if they would keep their eyes straight ahead or if they wanted to catch a peek at the damage.

How long do they give you? Rachel asked.

Two years. Maybe three. They say the treatment could cure me, but the chances are slim. And with that treatment, I might get another two years. Might. So I figure Im going to leave these last few years without chemo muddying it all up. And when the end comes…

She shrugged and sipped from her tea. A mosquito darted around her head and when she swatted at it, her aim was true. It went to the porch floor where she stomped it with her Croc.

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. She reached out and took her grandmothers hand as she had done so many times as a child, as a teenager, and even as they danced slightly inebriated at her wedding reception.

Its okay, Rachel. Really. Im at peace with it.

Rachels own conflicting feelings waged war in her mind. She knew she would not tell her, but the bravery her Grandma Tate was showing made her wonder if she should tell her family. Should she tell Peter and Paige when she returned home, or would it be too much all at once?

I appreciate you not telling me on the phone, Rachel said. But at the same time, I just drove seven and a half hours and now this…this is going to hover over the entire visit.

Well, youre staying until tomorrow, right?

Yes.

Then nothing changes. I say we finish our tea, head out for dinner, and go bowl a few frames.

Rachel couldnt help but laugh. Youre still bowling?

Hell yes. My team was second in the spring tournament. Remind me to show you the trophy when we head back inside.

And just like that, the bomb had been dropped. They remained on Florence Tates patio, drinking tea and swatting at mosquitoes while Rachel shared stories of Paiges adventures and triumphs from school, and how she was growing up far too fast. They spoke in the heat and finished the pitcher of tea in about half an hour. The entire time, Rachel felt her own news storming around in her head, stomping at the ground of her thoughts like a rodeo bull anxious to be released from its gate.

She knew then, swatting at mosquitos and trying to wrap her mind around bowling with her cancer-stricken grandmother, that she needed to eventually let it out or it was going to tear her apart inside.

***

Rachel woke up the following morning with the sound of pins clanging musically together and stared at the ceiling for several minutes before getting out of bed. At some point during the night, she dreamed that Paige, her daughter, had been at the bowling alley with her and Grandma Tate that night. And every time Paige asked a question about Grandma Tates diagnosis, Rachel would throw a ball down the lane and bowl a very loud strike. The questions went unheard and when it was clear shed get no answers from the adults, Paige walked away in disappointment.

Rachels phone was on the nightstand and when she checked it, she saw that it was 5:15. Figuring there was no way she was going to get back to sleep, she quietly made her way into the kitchen.

Grandma Tate was already there. The kitchen smelled of fresh-brewed coffee. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading from her Bible. Rachel had known that her grandmother believed in God but had never known her to be the type to wake up early to read scripture. Rachel almost decided to back away and leave her grandmother to her quiet time, but shed already been heard.

Grandma Tate looked her way and smiled. You dont have to snoop around, she said. Closing the Bible and sliding it to the side, she added, Grab a cup of coffee and come join me.

Rachel did as asked, mixing her coffee the way she liked and taking the seat opposite her grandmother at the table.

You always wake up this early? Rachel asked.

Every now and then. You?

Only when work requires it. Rachel then nodded to the Bible with an uncertain smile on her face. Is this something you always do or is it because of the diagnosis?

No, I dont typically pull it out but it has seemed pertinent these last few months, I guess. I dont even know that its providing any comfort. Its just something to do, you know? A routine.

Rachel was certain she was lying but said nothing about it. How can I help? Rachel asked.

Just by respecting my wishes. I know itll get bad at some point. But I dont want the chemo. I dont want to go through that. I need you to accept that and be okay with it.

It stung because she wondered if shed ever have a similar conversation with her family. Of course, in her case, chemo likely wouldnt even work. Her doctor had pretty much come out and said it. The tumor in her head seemed to thrum in response to this thought. She knew it really wasnt thrumming or moving or speaking, but she sensed it in that moment, all the same.

I can do that, she said as the guilt continued to pierce her.

And we can also set up a time for me to come visit to see that great-granddaughter of mine.

Yes, I can help with that, too.

Florence sipped from her coffee and got to her feet. And now, because youre an early bird like me, I say we get in the kitchen and make breakfast. How about French toast?

I dont know if I can eat French toast after that second dinner we had at the lanes last night.

I bet you can, Grandma Tate said, already heading for the kitchen. Besides, I want you to have a full stomach when you pull out of here in a few hours.

Together, they got out all of the ingredients and, just like the night before, there was no talk of Florences diagnosis. As Rachel cracked eggs into a bowl, she watched her grandmother mixing up brown sugar and cinnamon, a genuine smile on her face.

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