by Blake Pierce
Sure enough, the plywood cabinet now stood wide open. Inside were bags of powder and lots of little plastic bottles.
The woman must have sneaked in here and broken the lock.
Riley stood there staring for a second, trying to grasp the situation.
Had she just gotten lucky?
After all, she had hardly conducted an illegal search of the premises. She’d simply stumbled across Trip’s drug supply by accident.
Anyway, now didn’t seem like the time to mull over the legal ramifications. And she couldn’t just leave stuff like this here.
She took out her cell phone and snapped several pictures of the drugs in the cabinet. Then she picked up a plastic wastebasket, emptied its contents onto the floor, and loaded all the drugs into it, careful not to add her own fingerprints to what might already be on them.
She went back outside in time to see Jenn pushing Trip into the back seat of the car.
The obese woman stepped toward Riley again.
Winking, she said, “My name’s Ethel Burney, by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She turned and walked away.
Jenn called out to Riley from the car, “What have you got there?”
Riley looked into the pail, shrugged, and said, “You won’t believe it when I tell you. Come on, let’s take this punk to the police station.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
An hour or so later, Riley stood beside Chief Sinard outside the interview room in the Angier police station. The two of them were watching and listening as Jenn interviewed Ivan “Trip” Crozier, who sat shackled to a heavy table.
Trip showed the beating he’d gotten back at the trailer park. His face was bruised and bandaged. But Riley couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him.
He’s scum, all right, she thought. The world was certainly a better place without him on the streets.
But was he the killer they were looking for? Riley was still trying to figure that out.
It was clear that Jenn, who was asking all the right questions, was trying to figure that out too.
She said, “You claim to have been in Des Moines on the night of Katy Philbin’s murder.”
“Yeah,” Trip said.
“What were you doing in Des Moines?”
“Business.”
“What kind of business?”
“Scouting locations. Did I tell you I’m an independent filmmaker?”
Riley could sense Jenn’s brain clicking away as she probed for Skip’s weak spot. So far Jenn hadn’t been able to find it. Still, the young agent was doing good work. Riley felt sure she couldn’t do any better herself.
“Can anybody confirm your whereabouts?” Jenn asked.
Trip shrugged.
“I dunno, I’ll have to think,” he said.
A silence fell.
“Well?” Jenn asked.
Trip sneered a little.
“I said I’ll have to think. Ask me later when I’ve had time to think about it.”
Riley knew that he was toying with Jenn. So far, he hadn’t asked for a lawyer. Riley knew he would do so eventually, probably before the day was over. Meanwhile, he was just having some fun wasting the taxpayers’ time and money.
He hardly seemed like the stoned-out loser that they had found in the trailer park. He was obviously both shrewd and mischievous. Riley was finally starting to see why the local kids had been attracted to him. He was sardonically cool in a way that teenagers could appreciate.
As Jenn continued asking questions, Chief Sinard spoke to Riley quietly.
“About those drugs you found …”
Riley smiled a little. She had shown the chief her photos of the open cabinet, and the drugs were now checked in as evidence.
“Yeah, I know how that looks.” Riley said. “But I told you the truth. We found the cabinet open.”
Chief Sinard shook his head.
“I want to believe you,” he said. “But you can bet this punk is going to accuse you of an illegal search. That could spoil the only charge we can make against him at this point. He’s already complaining about police brutality.”
Riley almost laughed.
The idea that she and Jenn would have bothered pulverizing this guy in order to arrest him seemed patently absurd, and she was sure the chief knew it.
“I’ll tell you what, Chief,” Riley said. “If he starts making a fuss about it, look up a woman named Ethel Burney. She lives in the trailer park. I think she’ll be glad to explain about the drugs.”
After all, Riley now realized that the woman had given her name for exactly that reason.
A pretty smart woman, Riley thought. Ethel probably knew that she wasn’t likely to get charged with any crime. Even if that happened, she’d probably think it was worth it to get rid of a neighbor like Trip.
Riley half wanted to stop back at the trailer park and thank Ethel for what she’d done. But she knew that would be a bad idea.
Riley added, “Ethel might also confirm what Agent Roston and I said about how the guy got beaten up.”
“I hope so,” Chief Sinard said with a sigh.
Riley listened as Jenn kept prodding Skip with questions—good questions. But Jenn was still getting nowhere with him.
Finally Skip leaned back in his chair, smiling smugly.
“I think I’m ready for a lawyer now,” he said.
It was what Riley had expected, of course. Even so, she stifled a groan of annoyance.
In a town like this, a lawyer wouldn’t be available until tomorrow.
There was nothing left for them to do today.
*
Evening had set in by the time Riley was able to stretch out on the bed of her motel room on the outskirts of Angier. Looking back, she found it hard to believe all that had happened today—from the discovery of Katy Philbin’s body to the wild rescue and arrest of Trip Crozier. Had she and Jenn really flown out here from Quantico just this morning?
Riley felt exhausted—but far from satisfied.
Bored and achy, she glanced around the room. It looked exactly like many rooms she’d been in over the years. She could almost swear she’d seen the same bland paintings of rivers and trees a thousand times before.
The room struck Riley as just like the town of Angier—ugly beneath a cheap veneer of respectability.
There was a knock on the door, and Riley called “Come in.” Jenn entered carrying a box of pizza and a six-pack of beer.
Riley smiled and sat up.
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” she asked.
She and Jenn sat down on a rather uncomfortable couch and put the pizza and beer on the coffee table in front of them.
“You did good work today,” Riley said after taking her first bite of pizza.
Jenn scoffed at the compliment.
“You mean when I got us both knocked down in Trip’s trailer? Yeah, that was real smooth of me.”
“I’m talking about how you questioned Trip.”
Jenn shook her head.
“It’s not like I got anything out of him,” she said. “You could have done better.”
“No,” Riley said. “I couldn’t.”
After feeling vaguely at odds with Jenn all day, it felt good to be able to say something positive about her. And the truth was, Riley was feeling comfortable with her right now. She wasn’t sure exactly why.
I’d better enjoy it while it lasts, Riley thought.
She also reminded herself that she’d better be careful what she told her.
“Do you think we’ve got our guy?” Jenn asked, sipping on her beer.
Riley shook her head.
“I wish I knew.”
“Does your gut tell you anything?”
Riley sat quietly, mulling over her feelings.
“No,” she said. “What about your gut?”
“I’ve got nothing,” Jenn said. “So what do we do now?”
Riley thought for a moment.
“So far
, we don’t even know if we’re looking for a serial killer. We don’t know of any connection between Katy and Holly, and for all we know, Holly might still wind up alive.”
Riley paused to think a little more.
“Tomorrow let’s go talk to Holly’s parents. If it’s obvious that her disappearance isn’t connected with Katy’s death, we’ve really got no further business here. It’s not an FBI case after all. We’ll fly back to Quantico tomorrow.”
“What if another girl gets murdered?” Jenn asked.
Riley shivered a little. That was precisely the question she’d been trying not to ask herself. It was a grim irony that another life would have to be lost before the FBI could declare it an actual serial case.
“Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen,” Riley said.
Riley and Jenn ate and drank in silence for a little while.
Finally Jenn said, “I guess it’s none of my business, but …”
She paused for a moment. Then she said, “I wish you’d tell me more about Shane Hatcher. Your relationship with him, I mean. I’m just curious about it. Your rapport with him, your chemistry. It’s something of a legend, you know—how you teamed up with a convicted murderer to solve crimes.”
Riley was surprised that she didn’t resent the question. She sensed Jenn wasn’t trying to trap her. She actually seemed to be genuinely curious.
“What was it like, working with him?” Jenn asked. “Do you wish you could work with him again someday? Would you want to?”
Riley shook her head.
“Jenn—” she began.
“I know, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry for asking.”
“No, it’s not that really … it’s just that I keep asking myself those questions, and I still don’t know the answers. It’s all an enigma to me.”
Riley took a long sip of her beer.
“He scares me, but he fascinates me,” she said. “You’ve heard of the proverbial moth and the flame?”
“Yeah,” Jenn said with a sigh. “I know all about that.”
Riley turned toward Jenn and glimpsed a faraway look in the young agent’s eye.
She’s got her own secrets, Riley thought, not for the first time.
Was Jenn ever going to tell Riley about them? Did Riley even want to know those secrets?
At last the two agents finished their pizza. Four beers were left in the six-pack, but neither of them wanted more. Jenn picked them up and went back to her room. Riley had just stretched out on her bed again when her cell phone buzzed.
It was a text message from an unknown number.
It said …
You’re a long way from home.
Her skin crawled when she realized that it was another message from Shane Hatcher.
She typed back frantically.
Where are you? What do you mean?
But once again, when she tried to send the text, it was marked “undeliverable.”
Riley could only guess that Hatcher was sending these texts with disposable phones that he discarded right away.
She sat staring at the text. Like so many of Shane Hatcher’s communications, it was riddling and mysterious.
But it certainly seemed like a warning.
I really am a long way from home, Riley thought.
Was her family in danger right now? She remembered Bill’s promise before she’d come out here …
“I’ll keep an eye on things.”
She punched in his phone number and was relieved when he answered.
“Hey, Riley. How’s the case going?”
Riley was on her feet pacing now.
“OK, I guess. We’ve got a suspect, anyway. But that’s not why I’m calling. I just got a text from Hatcher.”
“Another threat?”
“With Hatcher it’s hard to tell. How are things at my house?”
“Fine. I just got home from driving by there. I talked to Wigton and Lochner in their van out front. They’ve not noticed anything unusual. I call them every couple of hours or so to check on things.”
Riley breathed a sigh of relief.
“Bill, thanks for doing this. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
“Like I said this morning, I need to do something useful.”
Riley sat down on the edge of the bed.
“How did things go with Mike Nevins?”
“Fine,” Bill said.
His tone of voice sounded a little flatter now.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Tell me more.”
Bill laughed a little. His laughter sounded a little forced.
“Don’t be a mother hen. Just trust me, I’m feeling better, OK?”
She sensed he was making an effort to sound cheerful. But she knew better than to nag him about his state of mind. He’d only get less communicative. She thanked him again, and they ended the call.
Then she punched in her home phone number.
April answered.
“Hi, Mom. Catch any bad guys yet?”
“Yeah, one. We don’t know yet whether he’s the one we’re looking for. How is everything at home?”
“Fine, I guess.”
Riley’s brain was fumbling around, trying to think of questions to ask without frightening April.
“And Jilly, she’s OK? And Liam?”
April laughed a little at the worry in Riley’s voice.
“We’re all fine—Gabriela too. She fixed a great meal—pollo en crema, chicken in cream. Wish you could have been here for that.”
Riley managed to laugh a little.
“Yeah, me too. Well, just give everybody my love.”
“When do you think you’ll be back?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe tomorrow. I miss you.”
April laughed some more.
“Hey, you’ve only been gone a day.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just having one of those ‘mom’ spells, I guess. Give my love to everybody.”
She and April ended the call, and Riley lay back down on the bed again.
She was stiff and sore and tired. A hot shower would surely make her feel better. But even then, she wouldn’t be fully relaxed, and she wouldn’t stop worrying.
Hatcher’s text kept flashing through her mind.
You’re a long way from home.
She asked herself what the hell she was doing here anyhow.
Maybe tomorrow the missing girl would turn up alive and she could just go back home.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Camryn Mays was in her little apartment doing her nails when she heard her cell phone’s ringtone.
Don’t answer it, she told herself.
Who could it possibly be that she’d want to talk to?
Hardly anybody in Angier, surely, and she didn’t know anybody who lived anywhere else except her brother, and he never phoned her.
She hated living in Angier—more on some mornings than on others.
Today she wanted to get out of this town so bad she could taste it.
The ringtone stopped, and Camryn finished painting her nails and blew on them to make them dry a little faster. They’d be dry in plenty of time for her lunchtime shift at Vern’s Café. She just hoped they wouldn’t get chipped today from handling dishes and flatware.
The other servers called the lunch shift the “run and gun” shift. Customers came and went too fast for the servers to do much more than take their orders and dump their food in front of them.
There was no time to chat with customers—and that was fine with Camryn.
Nobody in Angier had anything interesting to say.
Yesterday had been no exception. All the talk had been about how Katy Philbin had been found dead.
Camryn knew she should feel sad and shocked about it, but she couldn’t quite manage it. She remembered Katy from back before she’d graduated from Wilson High. Camryn had considered Katy stupid and shallow. Her taste in boyfriends proved it. What did she ever see in that
jock Dustin Russo, anyway?
He’s such a jerk, she thought.
In fact, she felt sure that Dustin had killed Katy. Who else would have bothered?
But the last Camryn had heard, Dustin hadn’t been arrested.
The police in this town are so stupid.
Of course, nobody wanted to suspect a high school football hero. Sports and jocks—nobody at Wilson High had ever talked about anything else. Camryn hadn’t been interested in that kind of thing at all. Being an African-American student in such a white school made her feel all the more isolated.
She was so glad she was through with that school.
Not that she was all that crazy about Angier Community College. There weren’t a lot of black students there either, and even the professors weren’t very interesting to talk to. But at least it was a step up toward getting out of this town and going to a four-year college.
And after that, what?
Well, with a business degree, she could move away and make a comfortable life for herself.
She envied her brother, who had already finished college and was living in Cedar Rapids. Somehow, it had been easier for him than it was for her. She still didn’t have the money even for instate tuition and all the other expenses.
But she was doing everything she could. She was working on setting up a financial aid package. She was trying to avoid loans as much as possible, because that would leave her paying it back for years to come. The finances just weren’t coming together the way she wanted them to.
She looked around at her shabby little apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was better than living at home.
Of course, she could save more money if she lived at home.
The trouble was, her parents made endless demands on her time there. They wanted her to run errands here, pick up something for them there, buy this or that with her own money. She just couldn’t get her schoolwork done at home. And by the time she got back from her errands, Mom and Dad would both be in a stupor in front of the TV.
She sighed a bit sadly. It was too bad her parents didn’t understand why she wanted to live on her own. She hated that it hurt their feelings.