Riley wasn’t at all familiar with fishing villages in this area, but she knew that some of them were closely knit communities that had long been isolated from the rest of the world. Some of them were still rather isolated and she sensed that Lorneville was like that.
Chief Fellers parked in front of Ostwinkle’s house, which looked much like all the other little homes in the area, except that it was more rundown than most and its big yard was somewhat overgrown. A handful of old cars were parked nearby.
As Fellers, Riley, Bill, and Craig Huang got out of the car, a stream of people began to pour out through the front door, then crowded together on the porch, staring out at their visitors.
There were some fifteen people. Most of them were middle-aged or older—Riley guessed that young people had a way of moving away from Lorneville. But there were a few younger people here, including a handful of children. The men and boys wore jeans, and the women and girls wore plain cotton dresses.
There wasn’t a smile among them. All the faces seemed to be frozen into the same surly frown.
Riley, Bill, Huang, and Fellers stood knee-deep in grass in front of the porch. The group on the porch was a strange sight. For a moment, Riley found it hard to believe it was real. Silas Ostwinkle’s relatives seemed to be stiffly grouped and posed, looking weirdly like some old family tintype from the nineteenth century. Riley could see all sorts of family resemblances among them.
Riley was so startled that it took a few moments for her to register that Chief Fellers was in the middle of rattling off introductions …
“… and Ezra Wheeler here is Silas’s uncle, and this here’s his grandson Ezekiel. Luke Ostwinkle over there is Silas’s brother by a different mother, and Delilah Griffin is his sister by a different father. Over to the left is Gage Grady, Silas’s brother-in-law.”
Fellers put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet.
“I guess that’s everybody,” he said.
Then he said to the family, “These three folks are Feds, from up in Quantico. They came here on account of what happened to poor Silas. They’d like to ask a few questions, if that’s all right.”
For a moment, the whole family stood there, as still and silent as statues.
Then a man with an impressive beard drawled, “Feds, eh? Well, I’m sorry you wasted the trip. We won’t be needing your services.”
Riley’s mouth dropped open with surprise.
She said, “I don’t think you understand. We’re trying to find out what happened to Silas.”
Another bald-headed man said, “We know sure enough what happened to him. He got murdered. We don’t need you to tell us that.”
Riley exchanged glances with Bill and Huang, who looked as baffled as she felt.
Bill said, “We’re trying to find his killer. We need to stop him before he kills again.”
A woman with pinched eyes said, “We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. We look out for our own here. Whoever killed Silas, we’ll find him an’ deal with him as we think good and proper.”
Chief Fellers seemed to be getting impatient.
He said, “Now listen here, Luke—and you too, Delilah. I know you think this is a family thing, and it’s nobody else’s business but ours. But I’ve been a lawman for a good long while now. I’m telling you that you’re going to need these folks’ help. They’ve got all kinds of expertise and skills that I don’t have, and you don’t either. You can’t deal with this on your own.”
The crowd of relatives kept standing, still and silent.
Chief Fellers said, “Damn it, folks, this is serious …”
As Fellers went on haranguing his relatives, Craig Huang quietly led Bill and Riley a short distance away.
“This is a waste of time,” Huang said, shaking his head. “This is just a bunch of would-be vigilantes—and the only good thing about them is they don’t know enough about what they’re doing to even get themselves into trouble. Even if they wanted to talk to us, they’ve got nothing to tell us. Silas Ostwinkle probably didn’t know his killer, had no connection with him. None of these people did either.”
Riley couldn’t disagree. And yet …
“It’s procedure, Agent Huang,” she said.
Bill added, “We can’t leave any stone unturned, no loose ends. If there’s even a chance that anybody here knows anything, we’ve got to check it out.”
“I know that,” Huang said. “But time is running short, and the two of you can make better use of your time. I’ll stay here and deal with these folks. If there’s any information to be had here, I’ll ferret it out.”
That made good sense to Riley, and she was grateful for the suggestion. She glanced at Bill and could see that he felt the same way. They thanked Huang and walked the few blocks back to the crime scene.
Riley was glad to see that their SUV was now inside the taped-off area forbidden to reporters. Doubtless the agents had done that when they put the sand timer into the vehicle.
Dodging reporters, she and Bill slipped under the yellow tape and climbed into the SUV. They just sat there for a moment, trying to decide how to reorient themselves.
Riley took out her computer pad and brought up a map of the area, marking each of the murder locations.
“This isn’t good,” Bill said, pointing to spots on the map. “The first two murders were close together, in Belle Terre. At first the killer seemed to have targeted that particular area, a nature preserve on the Chesapeake Bay. It seemed to be part of his MO, making him at least somewhat predictable,”
Bill pointed to the current location and added, “But Lorneville is more than twenty miles north of Belle Terre, off on a more remote creek. There’s no public property out here. Can you see any rhyme or reason to this? Is there any connection among locations now?”
Riley didn’t have to think hard to answer his question.
“It’s all about sand,” she said. “Sand at the beach, sandy soil in the woods nearby. The soil inside that building is also sandy.”
“Well, I guess that narrows his options some,” Bill said. “Sand makes for easier shoveling. At least we shouldn’t expect him to strike farther inland, where he might need a backhoe to dig a hole. But this whole tidewater area is sandy. Even the creeks and rivers have sandy shores. And we’ve got no idea what new location he’s got in mind. It’s too big of an area.”
Riley sat staring at the map. She simply couldn’t think of any way to guess where he might strike next. She could find no clue to how they should proceed.
Just then her phone buzzed. Her heart jumped when she saw who was calling.
It was Jenn!
But where had she been?
And what had she been doing?
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
When Riley took the call, she heard Jenn speak in an unsteady voice.
“Riley—where are you?”
Riley was taken aback by the question.
“What do you mean, where am I? Jenn, where are you?”
Jenn made a choking sound.
Is she crying? Riley wondered.
“I’m in Lorneville,” Jenn said. “In your message you said there was another murder here, so I drove here, and I’m right at the edge of town. I’m …”
Jenn let out an audible sob.
She said, “Could you just tell me where the crime scene is? I’ll be right there. I’m sorry I’m not there already.”
For a moment, Riley had no idea what to say. Jenn clearly wasn’t her usual self.
Certainly she and Bill could use Jenn on the job right now—but not if she was too emotionally distraught to function professionally.
Riley said, “Where are you right now exactly?”
Jenn choked back another sob, then said, “I’m sitting in my car in a parking lot outside a restaurant called the Smokehouse.”
Riley remembered the place from when she and Bill had driven into Lorneville.
“Stay put,” Riley said. “I’ll be right there.”
As Riley ended the call, she saw that Bill was staring at her with surprise.
He asked, “Was that Jenn?”
“Yeah,” Riley said. “And something’s wrong with her. Let’s go.”
Riley got behind the wheel and drove the short distance to the Smokehouse restaurant. Sure enough, Jenn was sitting in her car in the parking lot.
Riley said to Bill, “I need to talk to her alone. Could you …?”
Bill nodded. “I understand.”
He got out of the SUV and went on into the restaurant.
Riley walked over to Jenn’s car and got in the passenger’s side.
Jenn was wiping her eyes and nose. She seemed to be trying to pull herself together.
“I’m sorry, Riley,” she said. “I’m ready to get back to work now.”
“No, you’re not, Jenn. What’s going on? Why did you ignore our calls and messages?”
“I didn’t ignore them, I just …”
Jenn’s voice trailed off.
Then she said, “I had to take care of something. I got it done. Really, I’m ready to work.”
Riley didn’t speak for a moment. She sat studying Jenn’s expression. She knew that something had happened to her new partner—something serious.
Finally Riley said, “Neither of us is going anywhere until you talk to me.”
Jenn still seemed to be having trouble calming herself.
“Riley, there are some things you don’t know about me,” she said.
Riley waited breathlessly for Jenn to continue.
Jenn said, “When I was a teenager, I spent several years in a foster home. That’s in my records. What the records don’t show is that it wasn’t just any ordinary foster home …”
Jenn shook her head.
“Oh, Riley. I shouldn’t tell you. I don’t want to mix you up in this.”
Riley patted Jenn’s hand.
She said, “Look, you know things about me that nobody else knows. About my relationship with Shane Hatcher, especially. I’ve learned to trust you with some pretty dark secrets—stuff that even Bill doesn’t know. Now you’ve got to trust me. Whatever you tell me, I won’t repeat it to a single soul.”
Jenn nodded and gulped hard.
“The name of the woman who ran the foster home is Cora Boone—Aunt Cora, we kids called her. The thing is … she chose kids carefully. She only took in the ones … who she thought had potential for …”
Jenn’s voice faded again.
Potential for what? Riley wondered.
Riley’s brain clicked away, trying to figure out what Jenn was trying to say. Then it dawned on her what Jenn must have been subjected to.
Riley spoke calmly. “Do you mean potential to become professional criminals?”
Jenn nodded.
She said, “Aunt Cora runs a criminal network. Most of her accomplices are kids she handpicked and taught. They’re grown up now, and they know how to do—all kinds of things. I don’t even know all of the criminal activities she’s involved in.”
Riley struggled to contemplate the implications of what Jenn was saying.
“Jenn,” she said, “are you part of her network now?”
Jenn sat in silence for a moment.
“I don’t do anything criminal for her,” she said. “But … oh, Riley, things are so complicated.”
“Tell me,” Riley said.
“You know I worked a case in LA before I came to the BAU.”
Riley nodded. Jenn’s fine reputation had preceded her. Her success in LA had put her on the map as a promising young agent.
Jenn continued, “Aunt Cora—helped me on that case. She gave me insights. Mostly she gave me information.”
Riley was shocked. Jenn really was deep into something dark and dangerous.
But she told herself …
Is it any different from my relationship with Shane Hatcher?
After all, she had relied on Hatcher’s help even when he’d been at large and she shouldn’t have been in contact with him. Jenn was the only person who had any idea of the extent of Riley’s forbidden relationship with him.
No, Riley couldn’t see any difference at all between herself and Jenn.
She had no right to judge her.
Then Jenn said, “After that, I thought I was free of her. But yesterday she got in touch, and …”
So that was what was bothering Jenn all of yesterday, Riley thought.
Jenn went on, “And this morning—well, I couldn’t say no anymore. I had to do what she told me to. I did it, I got it done.”
Riley was on the verge of asking …
“Was what you did illegal?”
But it seemed like a stupid question.
Of course it was illegal. That’s why Jenn was so badly shaken.
Riley asked, “Are you finished with her now?”
Jenn shook her head.
“I don’t think so. And I don’t know what she might expect from me next.”
Riley was putting more of the story together in her head. She was even able to consider things from the point of view of this “Aunt Cora” woman. Surely Aunt Cora was more than a little pleased that one of her protégés had joined the FBI. Jenn could be a lot of use to her from inside the law enforcement community.
A real resource, Riley thought.
Riley felt a pang of sympathy.
She couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of hold this woman still had over Jenn.
But she did know that she owed Jenn a debt of loyalty.
She patted Jenn’s hand again.
“Jenn, we’ll deal with this. I don’t know how, but we will. And you’ve got to be fair to yourself. We haven’t been working together for very long, but I’ve seen enough of your work to know you’re a brilliant agent—with or without Aunt Cora’s help. And right now we’ve got a case to solve. Someone else is going to die if we don’t solve it. Can Bill and I count on you to get back to work?”
Jenn drew herself up and sniffed back her remaining tears.
“You can count on me,” she said.
Riley was jolted by the sound of a sharp knock against her window. She turned and saw that Bill was standing outside the car. She rolled down the window.
Bill said, “I’ve got Craig Huang on the phone. Maybe we should all talk to him.”
Bill put the call on speakerphone so Riley and Jenn could join in.
Huang sounded flustered and frustrated.
“I’m getting nowhere fast. Asking those people at Silas Ostwinkle’s house questions was like pulling teeth, and I don’t know anything more than when I started. But I did get names of more of Ostwinkle’s friends and relatives. Hell, it’s like he’s connected with everyone in Lorneville. I need to interview all those people too, whether they know anything or not. It looks like it might take me all day, though.”
Riley shared Huang’s frustration. Now was no time to get bogged down in dead-end interviews. But there was no way to avoid them.
All the same, Riley sensed an opportunity to ease Jenn back to work.
She asked Huang, “Do you want somebody to take some of those interviews off your hands?”
“Sure, but who’s available?” Huang asked.
“Agent Roston’s free now,” Riley said. “And she’s got her own vehicle.”
Jenn smiled and nodded, obviously pleased to be offered a task.
Huang sounded hugely relieved. “Great! She can start with a guy named Emmett Sawyer, an old army buddy of Silas’s.”
Huang read off the man’s address. With a whispered “thanks,” Jenn drove away to find him.
Riley and Bill walked back to their SUV. Bill had bought coffee and sandwiches inside the restaurant, so they sat in the SUV eating and drinking and reviewing the case.
Between bites, Bill asked, “What do we know about our killer?”
Riley suppressed a sigh.
“Not much,” she said. “He’s obsessed with sand. And revenge.”
“But what
did the victims ever do to hurt him?”
“Nothing, probably.”
“So why do we think these killings are acts of revenge?”
Riley thought for a moment, remembering her conversation with Mike Nevins. Mike had thought that the killer didn’t even know who had wronged him.
“Perhaps the true subjects of his revenge—the people who wronged him in some way—are now absent from his life.”
Riley spoke slowly, trying to make sense of her own thoughts.
“This is partly based on Mike’s input, Bill, and on my own insight into him.”
Bill just waited, so Riley plunged ahead.
“Something happened to him a long time ago—probably when he was just a kid. Somebody did something terrible to him—something cruel and awful. He’s got no conscious memory of it. It’s all suppressed. But lately, his anger has resurfaced. He doesn’t know why. But it’s driving him to kill.”
“But who is he?” Bill asked. “Where is he?”
Riley let out a groan of discouragement. She had those insights into the killer’s mind—true insights, she was pretty sure.
But what good were they to her, or to anybody else?
They didn’t bring her any closer to finding him, to stopping him from killing again.
Riley felt too restless to sit still. She set her sandwich and coffee down on the dashboard and got out of the car.
“Where are you going?” Bill asked her.
She didn’t answer. She really didn’t know.
On an impulse, she walked around to the back of the SUV and opened the hatch. Inside, the timer was secured safely in place. Sand was pouring in a relentless trickle from the top globe into the lower globe.
She stood staring raptly at the timer.
He handled this timer, she thought. He probably even made it.
Maybe, if she could just look at it closely enough, she could catch a glimpse of …
Him.
It was a weird thought, and it didn’t really make any sense to Riley.
Even so, she let herself get lost in the glistening shapes of the glass. She studied the waves of varying thickness, scrutinized how those waves refracted and reshaped surrounding objects as she looked through them.
Riley Paige 11-Once Buried Page 18