Her face flushed. “Thanks.”
“I’ll also admit that as skeptical as I am about psychics—because I’ve met some real looney tunes in my day …” McGregor started.
Howard chuckled knowingly.
“I know the Renee Palmer case was one of those cases for Howard. I may have gotten a little excited to meet you when he told me you were the last piece of the puzzle that helped get that case off the books.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at her. She got the impression he was debating how much he was willing to divulge to her when they’d only just met. He dropped his hand. “I’ve been in contact with Malcolm Elgin a few times over the years. He was only five or six when his mother was killed, so it’s unlikely he’d remember much, but I started checking in with him periodically as he got older, both to see if any memories resurfaced, and to assure him that there was still someone looking into what happened. That folder is always on my desk. It would be incredible if I could tell Malcolm definitively what happened to his mother before my career is over. At this point, that’s all either of us wants. We just want it solved. Shawna deserves that much.” He smiled at her a little wistfully. “No pressure.”
Despite the knot of tension that had grown as he talked, she laughed then. “Eh, the Renee Palmer case was over three decades old and I helped solve that one, didn’t I? This one should be a piece of cake at less than two. The whole serial-killer-on-the-loose-plus-crossing-state-lines thing is child’s play.”
The men chuckled.
“Ah, so psychics have a dark sense of humor, too?” McGregor asked.
“It’s that or I curl up in a fetal position and never get up again.”
Howard grinned at her. “Same.”
After they ate, and their plates had been cleared away, McGregor said, “If you’re okay with it, I’ll take your evidence with me. That way, if my contact gives me the green light, I can get it to him quickly.”
Riley nodded, but there was a pit in her stomach as she stuffed all her papers into a folder and shoved that and the fingerprint slide toward him. She’d email the video of her fingerprint collecting to him later.
McGregor folded his hands on top of the folder. “My contact’s name is Special Agent Samson. I’ll make it very clear that your safety is in jeopardy the longer this guy is allowed to creep around—hopefully that’ll light a fire under their asses. If this request does clear, things will likely move quickly. I’m willing to bet that the feds already have a file on Emery, since there was speculation for a while that she might have crossed into Mexico. They’ll have some insights into where to start searching, and with you alongside them, hopefully we can find her.”
Riley swallowed nervously. This was actually happening.
They all walked out together and she thanked them for taking the time to talk to her.
“Stay safe, Riley,” Howard said as he headed for his car.
“It was great meeting you,” McGregor said. “Remember, if you see a blue-eyed white guy wandering around your neighborhood, call one of us. Profile the shit out of everyone you see.”
Laughing softly, she promised she would.
As Riley drove back to Albuquerque, something occurred to her. If Anderson was the man responsible for all this, he’d been described as a younger man—maybe thirties—with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. The description Gigi had given of the man who tried to kidnap her eighteen years ago had been of someone in his late-forties, early fifties with white hair styled into a buzz cut. If Anderson had been prowling around, eighteen years ago, how could he have looked forty then with white hair, and thirties now with sandy blond hair? Had he started dyeing it? Did he have a really good moisturizer regimen that gave him a youthful glow?
Or had Gigi been wrong after all?
When Lola Bodwell had asked Brynn if John Anderson was the man who had kidnapped her, she’d said Not John. But it wasn’t clear if that meant the man’s name wasn’t John, or if John had interacted with Brynn, but he hadn’t been the one who’d killed her.
An awful thought flitted through Riley’s head: What if there’s not only more victims, but more than one killer?
CHAPTER 25
A few agonizing days later, Riley got a call from a private number just as she was heading out to work. Her heart lurched into her throat.
“Hello?”
“Is this Riley Thomas?” the man asked.
She swallowed. “Yes?”
“Hi. This is Special Agent Samson,” he said. “Have you gained any … insights on the location of Emery Dawson since you were in contact with Detective McGregor?”
Her palms were suddenly so clammy, she was convinced her phone was going to slip out of her hands.
“Hello? Ms. Thomas?”
“Sorry!” she said a little too loudly. Ugh. Keep it together! This is the freaking FBI calling you! “No, no new insights.”
“All right. Based on current information, we believe the Rio Bosque Wetland Park just outside of Socorro, Texas is the best place to start. We’ve done sweeps of the place in the past but found nothing. Still, that was Miss Dawson’s last known location, as that’s where her car was found. Your colleagues, Nina Galvan and Olivia Carlisle, have confirmed that you’re all better able to … make contact in a location tied to the victim. If nothing else, that parking lot may give you some insights.”
“Do you think it’s possible she’s in Mexico?” Riley asked.
“It’s possible. Her phone last pinged there. But starting the search in Texas is preferable, as getting you ladies across the border would be more complicated. Our information suggests that the killer disposes of the victim’s cell phone in locations far from the body in an attempt to throw off authorities. We believe it’s likely he did the same with Miss Dawson’s cell phone, and that while it ended up in Mexico, she did not.”
Her mouth was suddenly so parched, it was a wonder her tongue hadn’t turned to ash. “Okay. Umm … I would just need to get the time off work.”
“Make whatever arrangements you can. Ideally, this would happen within the week,” he said. “We’ve done a deep dive into this rangefinderanders person and we’ve found much more than a few snarky restaurant reviews. This man is dangerous, and if he’s escalating, we need to get moving quickly.”
“I’m heading to work now,” she said, voice shaking. “I’ll talk to my boss.”
“Excellent. I’ll be in touch.”
Within forty-eight hours, Riley found herself wedged between Nina and Olivia in the back seat of Special Agent Samson’s SUV. When McGregor and Samson had said things would move quickly, they hadn’t been lying. Special Agent Lee was in the passenger seat, typing away on what looked like a government-issue Blackberry. Riley had no idea those things still existed.
Their arrival at the parking lot for Rio Bosque Wetland Park was thankfully uneventful, just like their arrival at the El Paso International Airport had been yesterday evening. The FBI was all about being discreet, so she didn’t know why she feared mobs of camera crews everywhere she went, but it was a constant worry nevertheless.
There were no other cars parked in the gravel lot, but she supposed that was due to the fact that it was six in the morning. She scanned the area, wondering where exactly Emery’s abandoned car had been found sixteen years ago. When Riley couldn’t sleep last night in the hotel room she shared with the ladies, she’d looked up the wetland area again, hoping that going over the same information she’d already read half a dozen times would calm her down. The park was located on the United States-Mexico border, and a short walk into the park would put you at the border wall itself. The park was in El Paso, but was only ten or so minutes from Socorro, where Emery had been from.
Riley peered out the window, eyeing the wide, open lot ringed by thick wooden posts strung together with braided steel. Beyond the makeshift boundary circling the lot was a smattering of trees with a wealth of green leaves. The Orilla Verde Recreation Area had been in desert territory just as much as thi
s park was, yet this location felt more spread out. The big sky of Texas was a clichéd expression, but it felt very true here. The fact that a body had been dumped in this open, expansive area somehow unsettled her even more.
Once Samson had parked, he turned in his seat and looked back at them. He was in his forties and bald but had a well-trimmed dark brown beard and mustache. He had an easy air about him, yet he could also pin a person in place with just his intense stare when the mood struck him. “Remember that the border wall wasn’t here when the victim’s body was dumped. The area you’ll see now is vastly different than it would have been fifteen, sixteen years ago. The wetlands were fully established here by 2007, two years after Miss Dawson went missing. Then the border wall cut off the Rio Grande from the wetland area altogether, which changed the landscape even more. All of this is to say that the changes to the landscape here might have affected where Emery’s body was buried, assuming it’s here at all.”
Riley tried to imagine what the place looked like a decade and a half ago. Had Emery come here to take casual strolls, since the park was so close to her hometown of Socorro? Maybe she had been here dozens of times before she’d been left here permanently.
“We’re here as your support,” Samson continued, “but otherwise we’re going to stand back and let you ladies do your thing. If you think you’ve found something of note, don’t touch whatever it is and have one of us come over to assess. If the victim herself is found, we’ll call in forensic backup. They’re on standby. Got it?”
Riley, Nina, and Olivia nodded in unison like choreographed bobbleheads.
“Let’s go,” he said, and got out, then opened the door next to Nina.
Lee, off the phone now, opened the door on Olivia’s side. Riley wondered if the men were being chivalrous or if the doors didn’t open from the inside. The vehicle’s windows were so tinted, she figured that the car was often used on assignments that would require passersby being unable to see who was inside. Which very well could include criminals—criminals whose behaviors had flagged the attention of the FBI. Who had ridden in the back of this thing?
As Riley slid across the bench seat after Nina, she hoped they were successful today if only so she wasn’t responsible for taking these highly trained men away from important security matters. She wondered how McGregor had become close friends with Special Agent Samson.
Once Olivia was out of the car, Lee circled around to the back of the SUV and opened the trunk. Samson joined him. The ladies stood in silence by the car while the men did lord-knew-what. When the door to the back finally slammed shut, Riley flinched.
The men rounded the side of the SUV, large packs strapped to their backs. Lee looked to be in his thirties and was of Chinese descent, she guessed. He’d had the same easy air about him as Samson did, but now that they were here, he was all business. Riley wondered if he had a military background. Both men had donned sunglasses and were armed with giant shovels, their spades slick and black. Even their shovels looked intimidating.
“If she is here,” Samson said, when he noticed she eyed his shovel wearily, “she’s under the ground.”
Riley’s stomach churned. If someone would have asked her a week ago if she would like to be caught up in a case involving federal agents, her true-crime-loving self would have screamed, “Hell yes!” Now she just felt a little lightheaded.
Shit had gotten very real, very quickly.
“Take as long as you need out here,” Lee said. “The area looks and feels much bigger than it is—it’s only about three hundred and seventy acres.”
That sounded massive to Riley, but she also wasn’t going to win a mathlete trophy anytime soon.
Special Agent Samson had just said, “Why don’t we start here? This is where Miss Dawson’s car had been found,” when Riley’s attention snagged on something ahead. Without saying anything to the others, and without taking her focus off the walking path on the other end of the parking lot, she stepped sideways to get a better view.
The mouth of the path was straight ahead from where she stood. To the right of the path, just beyond a few of the wooden stakes dotted along the edge of the lot, stood a tall wooden sign welcoming them to the wetland area. And just to the left of that stood a woman in a yellow dress. Her red-painted lips turned up a little on either side when she was sure Riley was looking, then she turned and walked to the left, disappearing behind a low, bushy tree covered in tiny pink flowers.
“Emery,” Riley whispered.
The agents whirled at that, scanning the area around them with the intensity of eagles who had just heard their next meal scrabbling in the brush. When no immediate threat presented itself, attention shifted back to Riley.
“After you,” Samson said, gesturing toward the path with his free hand.
Riley hesitated.
“We’re right behind you, Riley,” Nina said. “Trust those instincts. Emery wants to be found as much as you want to find her. Let her show you the way.”
Blowing out a steadying breath, Riley started for the path. The sign announced this as the Wetland Trailhead.
The wide sandy road they walked along crunched underfoot. It felt too loud even with the continuous chatter of birds at this early hour. The air was chilly, and Riley zipped up her light jacket to her neck, shoving her hands into her pockets. Trees lined the road on either side, spaced at even intervals. Riley didn’t know much about trees, but one type dominated this stretch of road. They were a riot of green in an otherwise brown landscape, and the branches were lined with rows of small oval-shaped leaves, a bit reminiscent of a fern. What was odd about them were the little bundles of curly inch-long fruit … seed pods? She veered toward one, examining what looked like a handful of caterpillars that had all been fused together by their middles.
“Screwbean mesquite,” a voice said behind her.
She turned to find Lee eyeing the tree, too.
“They’ve got them in New Mexico too, you know,” he said.
Riley shrugged, stepping back onto the path. “I’m not really a nature girl, I guess. I mean this is beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I’m just either working or Netflixing.”
He gave her a quick, assessing head-to-toe scan. “And now you’re working alongside the FBI trying to solve a cold case.”
“My life took a turn for the very weird several months ago.”
Lee managed a small smile, but it was more fueled by politeness than amusement. Even if McGregor had been impressed with all the information Riley had gathered—information she’d since handed over to authorities—Lee didn’t seem to share the sentiment. She wondered if he thought this whole thing was a fool’s errand he’d been roped into.
McGregor must have called in one hell of a favor though to get something like this approved so fast. It made Riley all the more determined to be successful today. They walked alongside each other in silence, Lee keeping a firm grip on the shovel.
C’mon, Emery, Riley silently pleaded. Where are you?
Nina stopped walking a minute later. Relieved to have an excuse to leave Lee’s intensely quiet side, Riley offered him a nod, and then sped up to join Nina.
“What’s up?” Riley asked, noting that the agents stood several paces back.
“I think we’re far enough in now that we can attempt to make contact,” Nina said.
“Did you have to stop here?” Olivia asked, pointing at a sign that warned them to beware of snakes.
As Riley grabbed her package of pictures out of her bag, she frowned at the fact that in addition to ghosts, she had to watch for venomous reptiles. She hoped Michael didn’t add camping to his growing list of new interests. She handed Nina and Olivia a picture of Emery from her collection, took one for herself, and then slipped the package back into her bag.
In Riley’s picture, Emery sat at a park bench with her untouched lunch laid out on the table, all her attention focused on a book. She held the paperback in one hand, while the other was at her mouth so she could chew at
a thumbnail. While it was upsetting that Anderson had been able to watch her long enough to take this picture without her knowing, Riley related to how easy it was to get lost in a book—not only did you forget to eat, but the rest of the world fell away. Anderson had managed to capture Emery’s book nerd personality with such clarity, it infuriated Riley all over again that someone as talented as he was had used his skill to destroy young women’s lives.
Her mission today was to find Emery. She would worry about Anderson later.
Just as Emery had focused completely on her book, Riley focused entirely on Emery. From the beginning, Riley’s gut—intuition, psychic inklings—had told her that Emery had chosen Riley in part because of their similar introverted personalities. Kindred spirits in a way that was a bit too literal in Emery’s case.
Riley shut her eyes. Her dominant clair was sight, so she tried to lean into that. She pictured Emery on the path with her, as if the two women were out on a stroll together. She pictured her red lipstick, her flowing yellow dress, and her shy smile.
“She’s here,” Nina said, cutting into Riley’s thoughts.
Opening her eyes, she saw Emery several feet ahead on the path, the light breeze tousling her yellow dress around her calves. Her lips turned up slightly again—such a welcome sight when compared to the overwhelming sadness that had poured off her in the beginning. Was that a hopeful smile? Did it mean they were close? Emery turned left, following the curving path. She walked out of sight beyond the droopy, leafy branches of a mesquite tree.
The three women started forward as one, each drawn forward by the same thing, but in different ways. The agents followed silently behind.
Though there were a decent number of trees here, often there were long stretches of low scrubby vegetation, the view of the expansive sky broken only by swarms of black birds or wispy clouds just now losing their pink and orange hue from the sunrise. It was somehow both desolate and beautiful. An agitated crow or raven squawked incessantly in the distance.
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