There was another pause, longer this time. Kate waited, giving him space to think and to not break over realizing what the letter opener had been used for. She could hear movement in the background, probably James getting up or moving to a different room.
"It was a gift," he said finally. "From that mentorship program she did."
Kate felt her pulse quicken slightly. "What mentorship program?"
"The one she completed before starting her business. Second Act Success, I think it was called. Some sort of class or lesson. They gave her the letter opener and some stationery when she finished the program. It had her name on it and everything. I told her I thought it was kind of cheesy but she was sort of proud of it.”
Kate looked at Sloane, who had moved closer to hear the conversation. Sloane's eyes widened at the update.
"Do you remember anything else about the program?" Kate asked. "Where it was held, who ran it, or anything like that?"
"Not really. Rachel handled all of that. She went to meetings for a few months, worked with a mentor, that kind of thing. She said it really helped her get her business off the ground." James's voice was getting shakier. "I'm sorry, I can't... I need to go."
"Of course. Thank you, James. You've been very helpful."
Kate ended the call and immediately pulled up a search engine on her phone. Sloane did the same, both of them typing in"Second Act Success."
The results came up quickly. Second Act Success was a mentorship program for people in their later years who were starting new careers or businesses. It offered guidance, networking opportunities, and support for what it called "life's second act." The website showed smiling people in professional settings, testimonials from successful participants, and information about upcoming cohorts.
Kate scrolled through the site, looking for anything that might connect it to Patricia Holmes. If Rachel had gotten her letter opener from this program, there was a decent chance that Patricia had too.
"We need to contact them," Sloane said. "Find out if Patricia Holmes participated in the program."
"And if she did, we need a list of everyone else who's gone through it recently." Kate looked at Sloane. "Because if both victims got their letter openers from Second Act Success, this killer might be targeting other participants."
Sloane met her eyes, and Kate saw the same spark of urgency she was feeling. They'd found their connection. The link between Rachel Thornton and Patricia Holmes wasn't just that they were women in their fifties starting new businesses. It was this specific program, this mentorship organization that had given both of them personalized letter openers.
Letter openers that had become murder weapons.
Kate and Sloane shared a look of growing anxiousness, the kind that came from finally catching a solid lead in a case that had felt frustratingly vague. They had something concrete now, a clear direction to pursue.
And with the day coming to a close and a new, calmer life to maintain, Kate didn’t have much more time for the day.
CHAPTER TEN
The apartment was small, but organized in its own way. Every surface was covered with something that was seemingly innocent and monotonous. Business plans sat stacked on the coffee table, corners aligned perfectly. Promotional materials from Second Act Success covered most of the dining table that doubled as a workspace. Photographs printed from the internet lined the wall above the desk; there were dozens of them, showing smiling faces at ribbon-cutting ceremonies and networking events—images of happy people celebrating new beginnings.
The polishing cloth moved in slow, careful circles across the silver blade. The letter opener caught the afternoon light streaming through the window, reflecting it back in small bursts. The engraving along the blade was visible from this angle, a name etched into the metal with professional precision.
It was identical to the engraving that had been on Rachel's letter opener. And Patricia's.
A laptop sat open on the desk, displaying a social media feed. It showed pictures of another woman celebrating another milestone. The post showed her standing in front of a new storefront, arms spread wide, her smile broad and confident. The caption talked about dreams coming true and never giving up and how grateful she was to Second Act Success for helping her find her path.
Her path… as if it belonged to her.
The polishing continued, methodical and careful. The silver gleamed now, completely clean, ready for its purpose. It would leave no trace when the time came. None of them ever did.
Rachel had been so proud of hers. She'd posted about it on Facebook, showing it off like a trophy."Graduated from SecondAct Success! Ready to start my new journey as an interior designer!"The photo had shown her holding the letter opener, her face glowing with excitement.
She hadn't known where the ideas came from. None of them did. They took what was offered, built their businesses on foundations laid by someone else, and never thought to question it. They just smiled and posted their success stories and collected their profits.
The photographs on the wall showed all of them. Not just Rachel and Patricia, but others, too. Women who had completed the program, who had launched businesses with concepts that had been carefully cultivated and then stolen. They looked so happy in those pictures, so certain they deserved what they'd achieved.
The laptop screen refreshed, showing a new post. Another graduate, another business launch. This one was opening a consulting firm, helping other professionals navigate career transitions. The irony was almost laughable. She was going to help people find their second acts, using strategies she'd learned from Second Act Success, strategies that had been developed by someone else entirely.
The cloth set down beside the letter opener. Both were ready now. Clean and prepared and waiting for the right moment.
The business plans on the coffee table had been rejected. All of them. Three years of work, three years of developing concepts and creating frameworks and building something meaningful, and the program director had dismissed every single one. Too risky, they'd said. Not marketable enough. Too niche to attract real clients.
