“That sounds promising,” Riley said.
“What’s going on with your other investigation, by the way?” Nina asked. “You haven’t brought up the cameras again. Did you solve the mystery already?”
Her smile faded. “Not yet. It’s gotten a little more complicated since then.” She gave Nina a quick rundown of everything. “Now that I know Emery possibly was killed across state lines, I’m even more at a loss about what to do.”
“Have you been to the site where Brynn and Shawna were found?” Nina asked casually, as if visiting body dump sites was a common outing.
“No. I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“If you want to take a road trip one of these days, just let me know,” Nina said. “Olivia could be a good asset, too. These women are reaching out to you the best they can, just like Iris has. Iris’s messages will always be strongest in that house, where the events took place—she likely wouldn’t be able to manifest anywhere else. You might be able to tap into something in that recreation area since that’s where their bodies were found.”
Riley didn’t reply.
“Just think about it,” Nina said as she started to walk backward down the sidewalk. “Have a good shift.”
Right. She had to be getting to work soon, too. Waving, she headed to her own car, scarfing down her slightly soggy sandwich on the drive home.
Throughout her shift, she kept going back to Nina’s suggestion. Riley loved a road trip, but when the destination was to a location where women’s nude, sexually assaulted, bathed postmortem bodies had been dumped, the “fun” part of it left the equation.
Riley also knew that having something of importance to a victim made it more likely that she’d form a connection that allowed communication. She had yet to make contact with either Brynn or Shawna aside from a few dreams. Being not only in the town where they lived, but in the location where they’d been abandoned to the elements could be her way to forge a stronger bond with their spirits.
At the end of her shift, as she walked out to her car, she pulled out her phone, checking her messages. She had the usual handful from her friends and from Michael, but there was one from her mom, too.
Talked to Norma. She says Rodney lives in Shawna’s old neighborhood. He moved back there when he got out of prison. He served 15 of his 20 years due to good behavior. I’ll send you her number.
Riley knew Rodney hadn’t killed Shawna and knew from her mom that most of the locals hadn’t thought Rodney had been the killer either. Still, how had neighbors felt about a convicted felon moving back into their neighborhood? She wondered how the Rodney Elgin from eighteen years ago had changed after fifteen years in prison.
Hoping she wouldn’t wake Nina, as it was after 11 pm, she sent her a text that said, I’m game for this road trip if you are. Sunday?
By the time Riley had turned her car on and cranked up the heat to warm her aching feet, she had a reply.
Sunday is perfect.
Lying in bed that night, Riley spoke out loud to Emery, the spirit she currently had the strongest connection to. She didn’t feel Emery’s presence in her apartment then, but she hoped she could still hear her somehow.
“I’m going to find you, Emery. If there are others, I’ll find them, too,” she said, feeling a little foolish.
She curled up on her side and closed her eyes. Just as she dozed off, she thought she felt a hand squeeze hers—a gentle acknowledgement that Emery had heard Riley’s promise.
CHAPTER 18
On Sunday morning, Riley crept around her bedroom getting ready while Michael and Baxter slept in her bed. She had just pulled on a sweatshirt when Michael shifted, then woke abruptly with a quick intake of breath, confused when he realized she wasn’t beside him. He scanned the room, then sagged a little when he found her in the doorway of the bathroom.
“Hey,” he said sleepily, settling back against the pillows.
She rounded the bed to sit next to him, brushing a too-long lock off his forehead. He’d reached a rugged mountain man stage, thanks to his lack of shaving, which she was still digging. But he was in desperate need of a haircut. The morning bedhead had reached new heights.
“You nervous?” he asked.
Baxter mewed softly, then rolled onto his back, taking up much of Riley’s vacated spot.
“A little. Nina and Olivia know what they’re doing. And I trust them …”
“You’re just worried you’re going to open a portal to hell on accident and unleash a horde of demons on Earth.”
She kissed him. “See, you get me.”
He laughed. “You’ll be great. Call me and let me know how it goes.”
“I will,” she said, getting up. She kissed him goodbye, gave Baxter’s fluffy white belly a scratch, and then headed for the door. “Go back to sleep.”
But Michael was already snoring softly.
On the way to Nina’s, Riley called Carter Quincy, realizing that she still hadn’t told him that she’d identified Emery. She hadn’t informed Detective Howard of this either. She wanted to wait until she had more to give him. Besides, Texas was out of his jurisdiction.
“Hey, Riley,” Carter said. “No tips on our mystery woman yet.”
“I know her name.”
She could picture his dark brows lifting in the silence.
“Her name is Emery Dawson and she’s originally from Socorro, Texas. That’s likely why no one has been able to ID her in Taos—she wasn’t from New Mexico. The reason her spirit is here is because of the camera and her loose connection to it.”
“If you’re right about this, that makes this story so much bigger. A killer crossing state lines …”
“Do you have any contacts in Texas? Cops, other reporters?” Riley asked.
“Not off the top of my head, but my editor might,” Carter said. “I’ll be in touch.”
Olivia was already at Nina’s by the time Riley arrived. The pair sat in Nina’s Adirondack chairs on the porch, each nursing a cup of coffee. Any hints of Olivia’s pinup girl attire were gone today, save the red lipstick. She was outfitted like a nature tour guide—khaki cargo pants; a forest green T-shirt over a long-sleeved black one, which were both tucked into her pants; heavy hiking boots; and a safari hat. Riley stood at the base of Nina’s short staircase and looked down at herself—jeans, T-shirt, a light jacket, and ratty tennis shoes. For an October morning, it was a tad warm, but she wondered now if she hadn’t dressed warmly enough.
“Hey, Riley,” Nina said, waving.
Riley cautiously ascended the steps. “Hey.”
Olivia cocked her head, eyeing Riley over the rim of her mug. “Is the anxious energy due to your outfit or the whole communing with ghosts in the wilderness thing?”
“Why does it have to be an either/or situation?” Riley asked.
Olivia laughed. “Fair enough. I overdress when it’s going be over seventy degrees and I’m going to be outside for longer than ten minutes. I swear I could get a sunburn from a too-bright lightbulb. I went hiking out in that area once and stepped on a prickly pear patch that went straight through the sole of my shoes. I almost passed out from the pain.”
Riley winced, glancing down at her old tennis shoes again.
Nina laughed now, too. “We’ll stay on designated paths. Don’t worry.”
“Do you know exactly where these spots are? I’ve never been to the recreation area,” Riley said. “Brynn was found on a boat ramp by a bridge and Shawna was in the Rio Bravo campground. But I don’t know much beyond that.”
Standing, Nina said, “I haven’t been out there either, actually. Olivia has volunteered to be our guide.”
After Nina grabbed a jacket from inside, they all piled into Nina’s Subaru parked at the curb. It would take three hours to get to Taos, and then another half hour or so to reach the Orilla Verde Recreational Area in Pilar, a little village outside the town. Olivia requested to sit in the passenger seat because she got mildly motion sick when she sat in the back. Ri
ley stared out the window as they left Albuquerque and cruised down I-25 N toward Santa Fe.
She let Nina and Olivia’s conversation about people she didn’t know fill the car as she watched the stretches of low-lying scrubby bushes go by, rocky cliff sides a backdrop against a bright blue sky painted with wispy white clouds.
Riley hadn’t been to Taos in years, and as Nina wound her way through the town, she thought she should come back one day with Michael. She was sure she would appreciate the downtown area more now than when she was a kid. The two-lane street they were on was flanked on both sides by squat adobe buildings, all the color of warm sand. The architecture was classic Southwest, which she loved. Many of the buildings’ roofs were lined with a row of short wooden beams. When she was a kid wandering around a similar area in Old Town Albuquerque with her parents, she’d asked why so many of the buildings had bird perches protruding from the walls. Her father had explained that they were vigas, which were beams that held up the roof. Adult Riley still preferred the idea that Southwestern architecture was exceedingly bird friendly.
People milled about the shops and restaurants, many arms laden with shopping bags. Riley assumed most were tourists. A building on the right had a giant colorful mural painted on its brown wall, depicting a Native American woman in tribal gear, holding the hand of her young daughter outfitted in a similar manner. The accents on the adobe buildings, benches ringing courtyards, and stair railings were often painted a bright red, orange, or turquoise, the contrast a beautiful pop of color against the sea of similarly designed brown buildings.
As much as Riley would have liked to stop and take a stroll, they continued on toward the small town of Pilar, where they’d find the recreation area. Houses and apartments, many of them in the adobe style, replaced the shops and restaurants. Trees were plentiful, their rich green leaves arching over fences and sidewalks.
NM 570 eventually brought them to a large wooden sign and Visitors Center. Dread filled Riley at the sight. Brynn and Shawna’s killer had looked at this same sign and Visitors Center eighteen years ago. How many times had it taken before he thought, “Ah, this would be a great place to leave a body”?
“We’ll hit the water in about a mile or so,” Nina said, interrupting Riley’s dark thoughts, as she continued along NM 570. “First stop is the Rio Bravo campground.”
Olivia says, “It’s the nicest one out here. There are six or seven campgrounds and Rio Bravo is the Ritz.”
“So you’ve camped out here?” Riley asked, a little surprised, as Olivia didn’t strike her as the camping type.
“Only once. I was dating this guy who was super into nature, and he was appalled—that’s the word he used—when I said I’d never been camping out here. The guy was crazy hot, so I agreed to a weekend. He didn’t want to stay at the Rio Bravo site, though. He said it was one very small step above glamping, so we ended up at one of the more quote-unquote primitive sites. The toilet was basically a glorified hole in the ground. I got eaten alive by mosquitos and burned to a crisp. Utter nightmare.”
Riley stifled a laugh. “Did you break up on the spot, or …?”
“I think he wanted to,” she said. “That was also the time I stepped in the prickly pears. I was such a mess after that weekend, they practically had to airlift me out of there. He broke things off a day after we got back. I was in so much pain, I started crying on the phone when he told me. He said, ‘I’m sorry! I know you did all this for me and that’s really sweet. Maybe we can take things slow’ and I shouted, ‘No! I want to break up! I’m just so relieved!’”
Nina and Riley cracked up.
“I was still crying while I said it,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “He called me a bitch and hung up.”
“Dodged a bullet,” Riley singsonged.
“Hundred percent,” Olivia agreed.
The campground didn’t immediately scream “the Ritz” to Riley, but then again, she wasn’t much of a camper either. Not even glamping sounded that appealing. The dirt and gravel road Nina slowly cruised down had a smattering of cars and RVs parked at the various campsites. Each site was marked off by semicircles of large rocks, and boasted amenities like water spigots, camping grills, and covered picnic tables. There were also restrooms and coin-operated showers available to the site at large, which Riley supposed was ritzy as hell when you spent all night sleeping in a piece of tented fabric that likely didn’t keep bugs out, let alone mountain lions.
“I don’t know …” Nina said slowly. “This place looks kind of great.”
Olivia shuddered. “Did I mention I also got attacked by fire ants?”
Nina snorted. “This sounds like a montage from a terrible romantic comedy.”
“Oh, let me assure you, there was nothing romantic about that weekend,” Olivia said.
As they drove, Riley noted that on the covered picnic table of each site, a white “RB” was painted horizontally on one of the poles, followed by a number. Knowing she was about to kill the brief amount of levity that had filled the car, she asked, “Do we know which site Shawna was found in?”
The pair in front grew quiet.
“I believe it was at the end of the campground, but I don’t know what the site number was,” Nina said.
“Me either,” said Olivia, subdued.
Most of the sites toward the end of the campground appeared to be occupied, so Nina circled back and found a parking spot. Riley wondered if anyone would get fussy about them being here when they clearly didn’t have a reservation. The sound of rushing water was ever-present as she climbed out of the car. She headed in the direction of it, her messenger bag bouncing lightly against her hip as she went, and walked between two unoccupied campsites. Though the water was close, she couldn’t immediately see it, due to the wall of trees and bushes growing near the shore. On the opposite side of the river were rocky hillsides dotted liberally with large chunks of lava rocks and short, scrubby bushes. A large bush with long, spindly branches swayed nearby in the light breeze, the stems topped with mustard-yellow flowers that looked like massive, smashed makeup brushes. Up at the top of the hillside, along the ridge line, she thought she could make out the form of a sheep—possibly a bighorn sheep, given its stark-white backside.
“Hi there!” she heard someone call out behind her and turned to find a man dressed in attire similar to Olivia’s walking toward the pair. “Can I help you ladies?”
Riley noted that Olivia was holding a large bouquet of flowers. Brows furrowed, Riley walked over to join the group.
“Hi, my name is Nina Galvan,” Nina said, hand outstretched to the middle-aged man.
He wore a sand-colored hat with a loose chin strap—the bead at the end of it resting against his chest—and held a clipboard at his side. Shaking Nina’s hand, he said, “I’m Paul, the camp host. Did you have a reservation?”
“No. You actually might be able to help us, though,” Nina said.
“How so?” he asked, clipboard held to his chest now.
“Do you know anything about Shawna Mack?” Nina asked.
The man gave them all an assessing scan. “You reporters?”
“No,” Olivia said. “But we’re friends of the Mack family. We were already in the area, so we thought we might have a look around.”
The man still looked skeptical. “She was found by RB14. I can tell you that much. They found her laid out in the area between the covered picnic table and the shore.”
“Was her body covered?” Riley asked.
“Not that I know of,” he said.
“Do you know who found her?” she asked. “The camp host?”
Offering a little sigh, he said, “Yeah. Shook him up really bad. Mostly because he’d left late that night—not all the camp hosts stay overnight—so he didn’t see who had come and gone. Someone had reserved RB14 for that night, but never showed.”
The killer likely had known the host didn’t stay the night here, reserved the spot at the very end of the campsite so no one el
se could claim it, and then had crept in during the dead of night to leave the body for someone to find in the morning.
“We worked really hard after that to make sure someone was always on-site. It’s such a peaceful area. Never expect something like that to happen out here.”
“I noticed that there’s someone staying at RB14 right now,” Nina said. “Would it be okay if we just stopped by the picnic area to leave these?” She motioned to the flowers Olivia held. Mixed among the pink, white, and purple wildflowers were a few wide heads of bright yellow sunflowers. “We just wanted to pay our respects. Her would-be 45th birthday passed last week. Then we’ll be out of here.”
He thought about that a moment, then said, “Let me go talk to the campers and ask them if it’s okay, hm?” Without waiting for an answer, he sidestepped their little group and marched off.
Riley turned to them. “Where’d the flowers come from?”
“I was overcome with the weirdest compulsion last night that I needed them,” Nina said, “so I went out and bought some. I stuck them in the trunk this morning just before you got there. Almost forgot all about them, honestly. Then that feeling hit me again when we parked.”
“You claircognizant weirdo,” Olivia said, grinning at her, then gave the flowers a sniff.
A minute later, Paul the camp host was enthusiastically waving his clipboard in the air. Riley saw him before the others did.
“Looks like we’ve been approved,” she said.
They walked over to Paul, who stood near RB14 with an older woman. The door to the RV parked at the site swung open and out came an older man and a black lab. The lab bounded straight for Riley, his tail wagging so hard, it spun in a circle like a propeller. She bent down to pet the excited dog, who slid down her legs and onto his back so he could get his belly rubbed. A fine layer of black fur dotted her pant legs and shoes.
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