doing? Were they plotting somewhere in isolation, or were they comfortably passing their time with friends and family—unsuspecting, innocent people who had no idea of the evil in their midst?
At the moment, Riley had no way to know. But it was her job to find out.
She also found herself thinking anxiously about April. It hadn’t felt right to simply leave her with her father. But what else was she to do? Riley knew that even if she had not taken this case, another one would come along soon. She was simply too involved in her work to deal with an unruly teenager. She wasn’t home enough.
On an impulse, Riley took out her cell phone and sent a text message.
Hey April. How are U?
After a few seconds, the reply came.
I’m fine Mom. How are U? Have U solved it yet?
It took Riley a moment to realize that April meant the new case.
Not yet, she typed.
April replied, U’ll solve it soon.
Riley smiled at what sounded almost like a vote of confidence.
She typed, Do U want to talk? I could call U now.
She waited a few moments for April’s reply.
Not right now. I’m good.
Riley didn’t know exactly what that meant. Her heart sank a little.
OK, she typed. Goodnight. Love U.
She ended the chat and sat there, looking out into the deepening night. She smiled wistfully as she remembered April’s question …
“Have U solved it yet?”
“It” could mean any of a huge number of things in Riley’s life. And she felt a long, long way from solving any of them.
Riley stared out into the night again. Looking down at the main street, she pictured the killer driving straight through town on the way to the railroad tracks. It had been a bold move. But not nearly as bold as taking the time to hang the body from a power pole where it would be visible in the light from the warehouse.
That part of his MO had changed drastically over the last five years, from sloppily dumping a body by the river to hanging this one up for the world to see. He didn’t strike Riley as particularly organized, but he was becoming more obsessive. Something in his life must have changed. What was it?
Riley knew that this kind of boldness often represented an escalating desire for publicity, for fame. That was certainly true of the last killer she had tracked down. But it felt wrong for this case. Something told Riley that this killer was not only small and rather weak, but also self-effacing, even humble.
He didn’t like to kill; Riley felt pretty sure of it. And it wasn’t fame that spurred him to this new level of boldness. It was sheer despair. Perhaps even remorse, a half-conscious desire to get caught.
Riley knew from personal experience that killers were never more dangerous than when they started turning against themselves.
Riley thought about something Chief Alford had said earlier.
“The killer’s in no hurry, after all.”
Riley felt sure that the chief was wrong.
Chapter 10
Riley felt sorry for the county coroner, a middle-aged and overweight man, as he spread out the photos on Chief Alford’s desk. They displayed every gruesome detail of Rosemary Pickens’s autopsy. The coroner, Ben Tooley, looked slightly ill. He was undoubtedly more accustomed to examining corpses of people who had died from strokes and heart attacks. He looked as he if he hadn’t slept, and she realized he’d surely been up late last night. And Riley guessed that he hadn’t slept soundly whenever he had gotten to bed.
It was morning, and Riley felt remarkably rested herself. Her bed had been soft and comfortable, and neither nightmares nor real intruders had disturbed her sleep. She had badly needed a night like that. Lucy and Chief Alford also looked alert—but the coroner was another story.
“This is as bad as Marla Blainey’s murder five years ago,” Tooley said. “Worse, maybe. Lord, after that one, I’d hoped we’d put this kind of awful thing behind us. No such luck.”
Tooley showed the group a close-up of the back of the woman’s
At the moment, Riley had no way to know. But it was her job to find out.
She also found herself thinking anxiously about April. It hadn’t felt right to simply leave her with her father. But what else was she to do? Riley knew that even if she had not taken this case, another one would come along soon. She was simply too involved in her work to deal with an unruly teenager. She wasn’t home enough.
On an impulse, Riley took out her cell phone and sent a text message.
Hey April. How are U?
After a few seconds, the reply came.
I’m fine Mom. How are U? Have U solved it yet?
It took Riley a moment to realize that April meant the new case.
Not yet, she typed.
April replied, U’ll solve it soon.
Riley smiled at what sounded almost like a vote of confidence.
She typed, Do U want to talk? I could call U now.
She waited a few moments for April’s reply.
Not right now. I’m good.
Riley didn’t know exactly what that meant. Her heart sank a little.
OK, she typed. Goodnight. Love U.
She ended the chat and sat there, looking out into the deepening night. She smiled wistfully as she remembered April’s question …
“Have U solved it yet?”
“It” could mean any of a huge number of things in Riley’s life. And she felt a long, long way from solving any of them.
Riley stared out into the night again. Looking down at the main street, she pictured the killer driving straight through town on the way to the railroad tracks. It had been a bold move. But not nearly as bold as taking the time to hang the body from a power pole where it would be visible in the light from the warehouse.
That part of his MO had changed drastically over the last five years, from sloppily dumping a body by the river to hanging this one up for the world to see. He didn’t strike Riley as particularly organized, but he was becoming more obsessive. Something in his life must have changed. What was it?
Riley knew that this kind of boldness often represented an escalating desire for publicity, for fame. That was certainly true of the last killer she had tracked down. But it felt wrong for this case. Something told Riley that this killer was not only small and rather weak, but also self-effacing, even humble.
He didn’t like to kill; Riley felt pretty sure of it. And it wasn’t fame that spurred him to this new level of boldness. It was sheer despair. Perhaps even remorse, a half-conscious desire to get caught.
Riley knew from personal experience that killers were never more dangerous than when they started turning against themselves.
Riley thought about something Chief Alford had said earlier.
“The killer’s in no hurry, after all.”
Riley felt sure that the chief was wrong.
Chapter 10
Riley felt sorry for the county coroner, a middle-aged and overweight man, as he spread out the photos on Chief Alford’s desk. They displayed every gruesome detail of Rosemary Pickens’s autopsy. The coroner, Ben Tooley, looked slightly ill. He was undoubtedly more accustomed to examining corpses of people who had died from strokes and heart attacks. He looked as he if he hadn’t slept, and she realized he’d surely been up late last night. And Riley guessed that he hadn’t slept soundly whenever he had gotten to bed.
It was morning, and Riley felt remarkably rested herself. Her bed had been soft and comfortable, and neither nightmares nor real intruders had disturbed her sleep. She had badly needed a night like that. Lucy and Chief Alford also looked alert—but the coroner was another story.
“This is as bad as Marla Blainey’s murder five years ago,” Tooley said. “Worse, maybe. Lord, after that one, I’d hoped we’d put this kind of awful thing behind us. No such luck.”
Tooley showed the group a close-up of the back of the woman’s
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