Nocturne In Ashes: A Riley Forte Suspense Thriller, Book One

by Chase, Joslyn

  “Why would they go down here?” Riley said. “Harp knew better.”

  We may never know.

  Nate kept the thought to himself and pointed to the trail branching off to the left. “What’s down there?”

  “Just a copse of fir trees, a couple of benches.”

  “Let’s take a look.”

  As they neared the tiny grove, they heard the yip-yip of a coyote and saw the creature slink out from among the trees and run off up the hill. Nate stopped and put a hand out to break Riley’s stride.

  “Wait here a moment. Yell out if you see anything.”

  His feet didn’t want to take him there, but he forced them forward and entered the knot of trees. He’d seen a lot of dead people, but mostly they were complete strangers to him. He’d eaten breakfast with the Mayhews and was growing to like and respect the man and his wife. He sure didn’t want to see what instinct told him he was going to see. A heaviness fell over him when he saw the blood-spattered altar of sticks and stones, the lifeless body. It hit him like a blow to the gut. He swallowed several times, trying to make the rising lump go back down, but it stayed in his throat, an aching mass.

  He looked for Myrna, quickly searching the piles of leaves, behind benches and rotting logs. Where was she? Could she have escaped or had the killer taken her?

  He returned to Riley.

  “Sound the alarm,” he said.

  CHAPTER 53

  MYRNA WAS CURLED IN A fetal position, silent tears wetting her cheeks, ears straining to catch the sounds of the intruder. She’d heard him moving through the house, opening closets and cupboards, pushing around pieces of furniture. It seemed hours since he’d broken into her home, invading the space she and Harp had created together. An age since he had killed her husband and shattered her future.

  Footsteps sounded in the corridor, moving down the hallway. Slow, deliberate. When the killer spoke, her heart spasmed in her chest and she pressed her lips together to stifle a gasp.

  “Myrna, are you listening? You have no idea how much I regret this. Harp was an old fool, but you—you are a gem.”

  The footsteps stopped. He was just outside the door, now. He had not yet searched the room under the stairs. It was the only part of the house remaining to him.

  “Don’t be frightened, Myrna. I always make it quick and painless. Suffering is not the point. I do it to take away the suffering. Can you understand that, Myrna? I have done so much to stop the suffering.”

  There was a silence that lengthened into minutes, pulling her nerves, stretching them taut. He was waiting. Waiting for her to give herself away. Or was he expecting her to come to him, to present herself willingly, head bowed, the sacrificial lamb?

  Myrna felt the urge to scream. He was a madman. She squeezed her eyes and mouth shut and sent up a beseeching prayer.

  There was a click and the door to the playroom opened with a sorrowful wheeze.

  CHAPTER 54

  THE KILLER STEPPED INTO THE room under the stairs. It was dank and musty, as if it hadn’t been used for a long time. In the dim illumination that spilled in from the kitchen window, he saw a pink plastic stove, a set of tiny cooking pans and utensils strewn over the dusty surface. To the left, a large dollhouse dominated a child-sized table flanked by child-sized chairs. This was a playroom, designed for little girls.

  The floor was blanketed with carpet scraps, remnants from three different sources. Princess posters were tacked to the walls and an aquamarine dream catcher hung from the ceiling, its iridescent feathers stirring gently in the wake of his motion. He pivoted slowly, taking in the whole space. She must be here.

  His gaze fell upon the corner beyond the doll’s house, piled with stuffed animals. A woman could hide beneath those. He advanced, listening to the sound of his own breath in the confined space, and took a Teddy bear from the mound. The bear wore spectacles, lending him an air of intelligence. He tossed it aside and reached for a monkey, then dug both hands into the pile, pushing to the bottom, feeling for flesh.

  He’d made a mess. Where was the woman? What had he overlooked? There was nothing left to search but the walls. He looked at the far end of the room, took a step toward it, and was startled by a burst of noise from the direction of the lake. One of Frank Newcombe’s sirens. They’d found Harp.

  The strident noise continued and the killer realized that all able-bodied men would respond to the call. If he didn’t, it would look suspicious. He cast his eye once more around the room. She’d gone to ground somewhere and he could only hope she would die there from the head wound he’d given her. It had worked for Toby.

  CHAPTER 55

  RILEY’S FEET FELT HEAVY. She’d been lifting and putting them down, scouring the neighborhood in search of Myrna for nearly two hours, fighting the despair that settled over her by degrees and seemed to sink into her shoes until she could barely raise her feet. Nate had divided them into groups of three to comb for Myrna, keeping one group to guard the perimeter of the crime scene while he once more documented and gathered evidence. He told Riley that he’d try again to radio the sheriff, but she felt no great optimism about the results.

  The sky was beginning to darken, matching her mood. She was teamed with Teren and Dr. Deb and they’d searched through their sector of the neighborhood twice and found no trace of Myrna.

  “I say we head back to the clubhouse for a drink,” said Teren. “It seems pretty clear she’s not in our area.”

  Dr. Deb stopped walking. “We’ve got to find that woman,” she said, shading her eyes against the setting sun while she scanned the nearby houses.

  “We will find her, but right now we need a little refreshment and a rest.”

  As they trudged down the road that ran along the eastern shore of the lake, a figure appeared on the intersecting road, walking toward them. Riley was startled to recognize Rebecca, one of her piano students who lived in the neighborhood. She had a load of books under one arm and Riley remembered they had scheduled a make-up lesson for today. That had been a lifetime ago. Everything had changed, the earth was tipped on its axis, pigs might be flying, and into this surreal atmosphere walked this expectant student, toting a book bag.

  “I’m late for a piano lesson,” Riley said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Teren.

  Riley gestured to the student now waiting on the front steps of her house. “In a world where everything is falling apart, this girl shows up with confidence and the expectation that she can go on. I’ve got to respect that kind of courage.”

  “I’m coming with you then.” The clubhouse sat another thirty yards up the road. He turned to Dr. Deb. “You’ll be okay?”

  Riley thought the veterinarian’s nod held a trace of annoyance, but she agreed. Riley and Teren veered off and approached Rebecca.

  “I’m sorry,” Riley said. “With all that’s been going on, I forgot about our lesson.”

  “Can we still do it?”

  Riley had taken Rebecca on as a student four months ago when the twelve-year old arrived on her doorstep, clutching a trembling folder of sheet music.

  “I’d like an audition with you.”

  Riley had been taken aback. “I’m not taking any new students right now,” she said. The girl’s trembling increased and Riley heard pages rustling, but the girl’s chin went up and her topaz-colored eyes flashed.

  “I’m Rebecca,” she said, “and I’m going to be the best student you ever taught.”

  Riley’s heart and curiosity were caught in equal measure. She invited the girl in and they sat at the kitchen table, drinking iced peppermint tea and getting to know one another. At length, they moved into the living room and Rebecca took her place at the piano and played a Kabalevsky Toccatina and one of the Clementi Sonatinas from Opus 36. She clearly had talent, but needed help in developing her phrasing and technique. She was so earnest that Riley had been hooked and the girl worked hard to fulfill her prediction, so eager to learn and willin
g to listen. Riley enjoyed every lesson.

  Rebecca stood now, waiting for the answer, her eyes imploring, her jaw firm.

  “I don’t see why we can’t have our lesson,” Riley said, rallying to the courage radiating from this girl on her porch. “There’s still enough daylight to see the notes.”

  They went into the house and Teren wandered discreetly into the kitchen as Riley led Rebecca to the piano. The girl was progressing quickly through all the major scales on the circle of fifths and Riley demonstrated the fingering for a D-flat scale, marveling at the girl’s instant comprehension.

  “I’m starting to get what you mean when you talk about how my hand fits the keyboard. When you position your hand the right way, the keys you need are right under your fingers.”

  “Exactly. Once you figure out an effective fingering strategy, you can achieve flow. It’s almost like dancing, the way your fingers move when they’re strong and conditioned and you follow a good working strategy. Feels great, doesn’t it?”

  Rebecca’s hands flowed up and down the keyboard and she turned to Riley with a delighted grin. “Feels fantastic.”

  They worked through a Scarlatti sonata and Riley taught her an exercise using a legato touch in one hand while simultaneously executing a crisp staccato in the other. Rebecca was chagrined at her failure to perform it perfectly, but Riley assured her she’d master it, with practice. To finish the lesson, she reviewed some chord theory and introduced C.P.E. Bach’s Solfeggietto, pointing out how the patterns are established and repeated in various keys and registers. Rebecca looked doubtful.

  “I feel the order in the music, but I’m not seeing the patterns. It’s such a flurry of notes.”

  Riley stood and went to her music cabinet. On the wall above, there was a set of framed art that appeared to be abstract collections of brightly colored dots. She took one down and handed it to Rebecca.

  “What do you see?”

  Rebecca studied the print. “I see a lot of tiny splotches of color. What am I missing?”

  “Do you see any light reflecting from the picture? Okay, good. Focus on that point of light, but keep your eyes relaxed. Don’t be shocked when the image starts to firm up. Just go with it.”

  Rebecca’s eyes took on a far-away look as she stared down at the collage of apparently random dots. After two minutes of silence, she looked up, embarrassed.

  “I don’t know what I should be seeing. It’s just dots on a page.”

  “Shhh…relax and keep looking. Be patient with yourself, learning how to look at something a different way takes time.”

  The girl took a deep breath and focused down on the picture again. Riley perceived the moment the image began to swim into view, saw Rebecca lose it, and struggle to get it back. A look of wonder and satisfaction spread over her face.

  “It’s the Statue of Liberty! So bright and sharp I could almost touch it.”

  She popped up from the bench and went to examine the other framed pictures, exclaiming over the images that emerged.

  “Very cool,” she said, “but what’s it got to do with music?”

  “Music is just dots on a page, until you know how to look at it properly. And when you figure out how to see the big picture, it opens up worlds you didn’t even know existed. I aim to teach you how to see the big picture, how to open up some of those doors. It is, as you say, very cool.”

  Rebecca uttered a little trill of laughter. “Awesome,” she agreed.

  “For now, work on your C-minor chord inversions, along with the rest of the assignment I wrote in your folder. Mr. Kirkwood and I will walk you home.”

  Teren and Rebecca debated the merits of algebra during their walk and Riley’s mind wandered. There was something flickering at the back of her consciousness, pulling at her attention like that point of light reflecting off the mass of dots. A picture was there, a vitally important picture that she needed to look at, but every time it began to come into focus, her mind shied away and the picture faded to black.

  Someday that picture would come to light and she’d have to look at it, acknowledge it, deal with it. She thought it might be someday soon.

  Rebecca ran up the brick path to her front door and her mother waved from the bay window that jutted out over a bed of fall flowers just coming into bloom. Riley returned the wave, staring at this glimpse of normality in a haywire world. Candles burned in the windowsill, a warm glow of innocence in the gathering dark. These people didn’t know, were unaware of the killer in their midst. Riley prayed it might stay so.

  As they turned to retrace their steps, Teren put an arm around her shoulder, letting it rest there.

  “I should eavesdrop on your piano lessons more often. Damn, you’re a fine teacher.”

  Riley smiled. “I love teaching most days anyway, but that girl makes it a genuine pleasure.”

  He let his arm drop and they walked a beat or two in silence. When he spoke again, his voice held a husky, intimate tone.

  “What’s bothering you, Riley?”

  She let out a snort. “That’s a peculiar question. I just destroyed my career, my life’s work is down the tubes. Mt. Rainier erupted, killing a hefty number of people, and we have no idea how many or what’s really going on because we’re cut off from the rest of the world, without power or means of communication. And I haven’t even got to the good part yet. We have a serial killer rampaging the neighborhood, picking off victims one by one. What could possibly be bothering me?”

  His face never lost its look of calm gravity as he listened to her rant. She looked away, pressing her lips together, trying to staunch the restless irritation which tore at her.

  “Despite that impressive line-up, I think there’s something else, underneath it all. Something utterly fundamental.” He gripped her chin with gentle fingers and turned her face, studying the lines and planes of it. “Guilt,” he said. “You’re feeling guilty over something.”

  She slapped his hand away. “Okay, doctor, what is it then?”

  “The one thing you didn’t mention.”

  Riley felt the heat on her simmering emotions flare up a notch. If she didn’t get a handle on this, she was going to blow.

  “I surmise you’re referring to my dead husband and my dead son.”

  “I am indeed.”

  His unruffled composure infuriated her and she struggled to keep her voice in check. “Oh, sure, yes, because I feel so much better when I bring them to mind. What shall we talk about? Shall we discuss how if they hadn’t come out to be with me, they wouldn’t have burned with the apartment. Well, Teren, it’s taken me a hell of a long time, but I think I’ve pretty much worked through that. It’s not my fault, and I know it’s not my fault.

  “So maybe we should hash out how I should have been there with them. It should have been me. Again, I’ve more or less made my peace with survivor’s guilt.”

  She paused, walking in agitated silence, then let out a groan. “It’s the uncertainty, not knowing what really happened. Was the fire deliberate? And if so, who caused it and why.”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “Part of it? What’s the rest of it?”

  “That’s what you need to figure out.”

  “You know, Teren, you’re really pissing me off.”

  “That’s okay, be pissed at me if it makes you feel better. Just don’t get careless.” He stopped, swinging her to face him. “Please, Riley, be vigilant. Don’t go off alone and don’t trust anyone, not even the detective, and especially not Skillet.”

  She broke away from him and crunched up the gravel drive to the clubhouse, angry enough to take a swipe at anyone who stood in her way. But beneath the anger, lay the guilt and a layer of something else.

  Fear.

  CHAPTER 56

  NATE WATCHED WITH RELIEF AS Riley and Teren entered the clubhouse, though he was less happy to note Riley’s flaming cheeks and flashing eyes. Everyone else was already assembled in the dining room, eating dinner, and he beckoned th
em in, as well.

  “Did you find Mrs. Mayhew?” Teren asked.

  “Not yet,” said Nate, “but I was able to process the scene and we moved Harper’s body to a secure location where the coyotes won’t get him.”

  Riley shuddered and Nate saw that she was struggling to calm herself. “Come on in and sit down, get some dinner in you. Skillet’s cooking.”

  She offered him a taut smile that stopped short of her eyes. She was showing strain and Nate worried. She’d been out there, alone with Teren, and that raised a host of issues in his mind.

  After they’d served themselves at the buffet-style sideboard and found a seat, Nate used a spoon against his water glass to get everyone’s attention.

  “We all feel the loss of Harper Mayhew and I want to thank you for the hard work you’ve put in today. Skillet,” he bowed his head toward the chef, “is feeding us well and many of you put in some hours this afternoon helping me and searching for Mrs. Mayhew.”

  There were a few murmurs of acknowledgment, but most of the heads were downcast, concentrating their dwindling energy on chewing their dinners.

  “I’d like to restate my advice that you stay together in groups of at least three. We’ll have to—”

  “You think one of us did it.” Brenda’s fork dropped onto her plate, producing a metallic clang. Her head swiveled, taking in the assembly. “You’re saying the murderer is here, in this room.”

  Nate shook his head. “I didn’t say that, but I won’t discount the possibility. Right now, it’s imperative that we find Myrna.”

  “Oh my word,” Mrs. Dawson rose from her seat, a hand pressed against her chest. “Myrna can identify the killer.”

  A mild uproar commenced, but Nate used his butter knife like a gavel and took back the floor. “It’s true that I’m hoping Myrna can tell us who attacked Harper, but it’s by no means certain that the killer is known to any of you. It could be an outsider whose escape route has been cut off, someone who’s hiding within the confines of the neighborhood. The point is, we don’t know, and our best precaution is to stick together.”