by Blake Pierce
“Right,” Wightman said. “Frankly, it also scared the hell of us. Because there was something else enclosed with the message.”
He laid out another sheet of paper—a photocopy of a map with a small red rectangle drawn on it.
Wightman explained, “This is a map of Ironwood Park. And the marked spot shows the exact place where we were just a few minutes ago.”
Wightman shuddered a bit at the memory.
“I took several of my guys out there, and we found a mound of dirt that looked just like a fresh grave. We expected the worst, naturally. We thought for sure we’d find Allison’s body at the bottom of that grave. But we dug out all the dirt that had been shoveled into the hole—and nothing was there.”
Wightman shrugged slightly.
He said, “Naturally, we thought it was a prank—a sick joke at police expense, and also the expense of poor Allison’s family. With the girl still missing, some bastard must have thought it was cute to send us out digging up an empty hole.”
Wightman let out a weary sigh.
“Well, almost a whole year has gone by,” he said. “Every single day since then, we’ve been trying to find out where Allison disappeared to. Try as we might, we haven’t come up with any answers. Then last night we got another note.”
He pushed another piece of paper across the table—another message with cut-out, pasted letters:
STILL LOOKING FOR THE GIRL DRESSED LIKE DEATH?
EXPECT BETTER LUCK THIS TIME.
THE GOATMAN IS STILL HUNGRY.
HE WILL FEAST AND SING AGAIN
ON THE HALLOWED EVE
The sheriff showed them yet another piece of paper—a map just like the other one, with a red rectangle in the same spot.
“This came with the note,” the sheriff said, tapping the map with his forefinger. “Well, naturally, we took this to be another cruel prank. I had half a mind to ignore it altogether. But I couldn’t do that—not if there was even the slightest chance of finding Allison.”
The sheriff leaned toward Riley and Ann Marie.
He said, “So a couple of my guys and I went out again late last night with flashlights and shovels. When we got to the spot, it wasn’t freshly dug like before. It looked like maybe nobody had touched it for a long while, maybe since we’d filled the hole back up a year ago. But I had my guys dig there anyway.”
“And that’s when you found her,” Riley said.
Wightman nodded. “Somebody must have buried her there sometime during the course of the year without anybody else noticing. I wish we’d thought to keep watch over the spot. But how could we have expected anything like that?”
“You had no reason to think it was anything but a prank,” Riley agreed.
“But the whole thing was weird beyond my imagining,” Wightman replied. “I knew I had missed some possibilities and I might miss more. So this morning I told my guys to hold the crime scene in place and called the BAU to ask for help. We haven’t even worked out a timetable on just when was Allison actually killed, and how soon afterwards she was buried.”
Ann Marie spoke up.
“Well, the M.E. agrees with me that the body was frozen for some period of time before it was buried.”
Wightman commented, “So if the body was frozen, that really affects what he can tell us about when this victim died.”
Ann Marie nodded and added, “Maybe he can get a better timetable when he conducts an autopsy. But I doubt that he’ll ever be able to figure out exactly when she was killed. Maybe she died shortly after she disappeared. Or maybe it was quite a while after that. Maybe she was held captive for a while.”
Riley felt weird hearing the girl talk like a forensics expert.
What other surprises does she have in store? she wondered.
Wightman sighed and said, “All I know is, I’m worried sick about whatever’s going to happen next. The new note says the Goatman will ‘feast and sing again on the hallowed eve.’ Obviously, that means Halloween. Which is the day after tomorrow.”
Riley’s head was buzzing with questions. She said to the sheriff, “Do you have any idea what ‘Goatman’ refers to?”
The sheriff’s lips twisted into a grimace.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. “The Goatman is a Maryland urban legend. According to the most common version, a mad scientist who was experimenting on goats accidentally turned himself into a hybrid creature—half man, half goat. He’s said to roam the countryside, hungry for human blood.”
The sheriff drummed his fingers on the table and added, “The Goatman legend actually isn’t even indigenous to this part of Maryland. He’s said to prowl near Beltsville along Fletchertown Road. But stories like this get around. I’ve heard of Goatman ‘sightings’ elsewhere in the state.”
The whole thing was starting to make some weird, sick kind of sense to Riley. She thought back to the corpse at the crime scene.
She said, “The body was marked with hooved footprints, like those of a goat.”
Ann Marie added, “And the fatal wound did look like it came from animal’s horn. But goats are vegetarian, aren’t they? And they’re actually kind of cute.”
“It’s just a legend,” Wightman grunted, “I don’t assume any of us believe Allison was gored by a goat which then trampled her—much less that she was killed by some kind of half-man, half-goat. But whoever did kill her wanted things to look that way.”
Riley nodded and said, “And he would love it if the public started to believe the Goatman was real—and ‘hungry,’ as the note says. Are these notes public knowledge?”
Wightman shook his head.
“The only people who know about them are me and the guys who did the digging. Even after we got the first one, I swore the guys to secrecy. Back then, I didn’t want to give the bastard who sent the note the public attention he obviously wanted.”
“That was a good call,” Riley said. “Try to keep things that way. I assume that word has already gotten out that Allison Hillis was murdered. But we’ve got to keep the details secret for as long as we can. This whole ‘Goatman’ element could make the case a lot harder to solve if it takes hold with the public. Things could turn into a real circus.”
Riley thought quietly for a moment, staring at both of the notes.
She felt sure of only one thing—that Wightman had been right to call in the BAU. They might or might not be dealing with a serial killer. But they were definitely dealing with a unique kind of psychopath.
Then Riley asked Wightman, “Does the phrase ‘Goat Song’ mean anything to you?”
Wightman shrugged. “Just part of the story, I guess. I’ve never heard about it, myself. But you know how it is with these urban legends. There are all kinds of variants and differences. Maybe the Goatman is supposed to sing in some versions.”
Riley knew that he might be right. Even so, she felt a prickle of suspicion that the phrase had some kind of significance they’d better not overlook.
Wightman said, “What scares me right now is the reference to ‘the hallowed eve.’ Do you think the killer might try to abduct somebody else the night after tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” Riley said. “And I don’t want to start a panic by putting out some kind of warning just yet. If we hunker down and do our jobs, we might catch the killer before then.”
“What do we do next?” Wightman asked.
Riley paused and thought for another moment. Then she asked, “Does Allison Hillis’s family live here in Winneway?”
Sheriff Wightman nodded.
Riley said, “I’d like to pay them a visit and ask them some questions.”
Wightman sighed and said, “Agent Paige, I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.”
“Why not?” Riley asked.
“As you can imagine, this has been an ordeal for Allison’s parents ever since she first disappeared. They never stopped hoping their daughter would turn up alive and safe. I sent a couple of my people over to their house
this morning to tell them about the body we’d found.”
“How did they take it?” Riley asked.
“Allison’s father, Brady, wasn’t at home. He’s in London on business. But my guys talked to her mother, Lauren. They told me she’s in a deep state of denial. She keeps saying the body isn’t her daughter, it must be somebody else dressed in the costume she was wearing that night.”
Wightman shrugged again. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that the body is Allison’s. But I can’t prove that yet. We could take Lauren to the morgue and see if she can identify the body—although I’m not sure she can, given the condition of the remains. I’d rather wait until Tyler can confirm the girl’s identity with a DNA test. Then maybe Lauren will accept the truth. Meanwhile, I’d rather not bother her.”
Riley squinted with thought.
She said, “Sheriff Wightman, I appreciate your concern. But I want to get moving as soon as possible, and as far as I’m concerned, my first order of business is to talk to the mother. I’d like to go over to their house right now.”
Wightman nodded reluctantly.
“I’ll call Lauren and tell her we’re coming over,” he said.
The moment he took out his cell phone, Riley’s own phone rang. She saw that the call was from Bill. She almost answered right then and there, but she quickly decided she’d better find some place where she could talk to Bill more privately. She stepped out of the conference room into the empty hallway.
Bill’s voice sounded agitated when she took the call.
“Riley, talk to me. I’m going crazy here. Meredith is keeping me at the BAU, and I’m supposed to be doing research, but I don’t know where to start. Tell me what’s going on.”
Riley briefly filled Bill in. She went into a fair amount of detail as she retold Sheriff Wightman’s account of all that had happened since Allison Hillis’s disappearance, including the contents of the two messages. She also told him about the condition of the body.
“Frozen, huh?” Bill said. “It sounds like maybe I should track down large freezer units—the kind that get used in restaurants and grocery stores and such. Maybe someone in that area has bought something like that recently. I can check out local sales and purchases.”
Riley agreed. It sounded like a long shot, but at least it was a place for Bill to get started.
“Anything else?” Bill said.
Riley thought for a moment. Something about those messages had been nagging at her.
She said, “Try to find out if there’s any significance to the words ‘goat song.’ Maybe it’s just part of the Goatman’s urban legend. But I’ve got a feeling there’s more to it than that.”
“I’ll get on it,” Bill said.
Then a silence fell between them.
This is where we’re supposed to end the call, she thought. But it seemed as though neither of them was quite ready to do that.
Finally Bill said what both of them were thinking.
“This is weird.”
Riley smiled.
“Yeah, it really is,” she said.
Bill said, “I really don’t like being benched like this when you’re out on a new case.”
“I know, Bill,” Riley said. “And I don’t like working without you. But we may have to get used to quite a few changes now that …”
Her voice faded as she wondered, Now that what?
Things would surely be very different right now if Meredith hadn’t called to interrupt her lunch date with Bill. Right now their whole relationship seemed to be made up of unanswered questions.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Riley said. “But now’s not the time.”
“I understand,” Bill said. “Maybe later this evening.”
“That would be good,” Riley said.
Another silence fell.
This is getting to be ridiculous, Riley thought.
Finally she said, “We’ll talk soon.”
“Right,” Bill said.
Then they ended the call. Riley stood staring at the phone for a moment, wishing Bill was here right now.
When she walked back into the conference room, she found Ann Marie chattering away while Sheriff Wightman listened. Riley quickly realized that Ann Marie was regaling the sheriff with stories about mortuary work. Sheriff Wightman seemed to be utterly fascinated.
Riley guessed that he was less intrigued by the stories themselves than by the pretty young woman who was telling them.
“We need to get going,” Riley said to the pair.
The conversation ended, and Riley and her two colleagues headed out of the building.
Riley kept glancing at Ann Marie as the three of them walked toward their vehicles.
Everybody likes her, she thought again.
And she likes being likeable.
Riley had never thought of likeability as being a particularly useful trait in law enforcement.
She didn’t think this partnership was going to work out very well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The rookie agent’s reaction to their surroundings told Riley something new about her young partner.
“Oh, what a nice neighborhood!” Ann Marie cooed. “It looks a lot like where I grew up!”
Riley was driving their car behind Sheriff Wightman’s, following him into the area called Aurora Groves. Everything here looked expensive, like the rest of Winneway. It wasn’t a gated community, but it was well-planned with curving streets designed to keep traffic low. There were ponds and meadows and gardens amidst the enormous lawns.
If Ann Marie was from a neighborhood like this, it indicated something specific to Riley.
Her family’s kind of rich.
Of course, Riley wasn’t really surprised. Ann Marie had struck her as well-off pretty much from the start.
As Riley continued to follow the sheriff, Ann Marie took out her cell phone and searched for information about the neighborhood, eagerly sharing her findings.
“Aurora Groves is a lot newer than the rest of Winneway. Look, you can see that some of the houses are still for sale. You can buy some of these places for just a little over five hundred thousand, even though others are closer to a million.”
Ann Marie nodded with approval.
“This isn’t the richest area around here. But I like houses like these a lot better than real mansions. Mansions always make me feel lonely. I’m glad I grew up in a more modest area like this.”
More modest? Riley thought.
The area certainly didn’t look “modest” to her. The houses were far too big for her taste, and she didn’t even find them very attractive.
Many of the houses they’d seen in the rest of Winneway had been authentic and historical, even if they were cluttered by anachronistic features like swimming pools. These houses were pseudo-traditional, and Riley didn’t like them. But apparently Ann Marie felt right at home in these surroundings.
At least she knows how to do online research, Riley told herself.
Not that what Ann Marie was finding out seemed particularly relevant to Riley right now.
When Sheriff Wightman pulled over and stopped in front of one home. Riley parked behind him. Like other houses on the street, this one had a broad porch, narrow shutters beside the wide windows, and lots of gables. Riley and Ann Marie followed the sheriff to the front door. When they rang the doorbell, they were met by a well-dressed, conventionally good-looking man about Riley’s age.
Sheriff Wightman introduced him as Allison’s uncle, Walker Danson.
The sheriff quickly added, “State Senator Walker Danson.”
Wightman added the title as if he were speaking of royalty.
Danson shook hands with Riley and Ann Marie.
“I’m Lauren’s brother,” he said. “Her husband, Brady, is in London, so I’ve been here all morning, keeping her company. She’s very shaken by this new development. I hope you’re not going to upset her further.”
He said it as if it were a command and not a re
quest. Riley, of course, didn’t reply. She doubted very much that this meeting was going to make Lauren Hillis feel better about things.
As Danson started to lead them into the house, he paused and said something to Riley and Ann Marie.
“I understand that you’re with the BAU.”
Riley nodded.
Danson tilted his head and asked, “Do you happen to know Carl Walder?”
Riley tried not to wince at the sound of the name.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s … Special Agent in Charge at the BAU.”
“Yes, I know,” Danson said.
Danson stood looking at them for a moment with an inscrutable expression.
Riley asked him, “Do you know him?”
“Indeed I do,” Danson said.
Riley felt a chill at how he said that.
Without further comment, Danson led Riley and her two colleagues on into the house. Riley felt distinctly uncomfortable now. Did this Maryland politician have some kind of personal relationship with her nemesis at the BAU? Riley could only hope it wouldn’t lead to trouble.
Walder liked to boast of friends in high places, and some of those friends had been a nuisance to Riley in the past. The last thing she needed right now was some high-ranking disgruntled family member complaining directly to Walder about her work.
The front entryway led into an open, thoroughly modern interior, a continuous open space leading from one area into another.
They soon arrived in a large living room with a high ceiling. The walls were sparkling white, and the pale hardwood floors were very nearly white as well. Bursts of color from cushions on the furniture matched the hues in abstract paintings on the walls.
Seated on the couch directly in the center of their view of the room was a woman dressed in plain, subdued colors that contrasted with the rest of the room. Danson introduced her as his sister Lauren Hillis, Allison’s mother.
Her eyes brightened.
She said to Riley and Ann Marie, “Oh, you’re the FBI people who Walker said were on their way over. I’m so relieved to see you. Today has been terrible.”
She turned toward Sheriff Wightman with an angry expression.
