by Blake Pierce
“What I need is a light and a siren,” Jake snapped.
The idea of a camper barreling along with turret light flashing and siren
wailing actually made Riley laugh.
“I know, I know,” Crivaro growled. “Don’t worry, this damned tub won’t
go fast enough to get us killed, but at least most traffic will stay out of our way.”
“Some of them are bigger than we are,” Riley commented, as the eighteen-
wheeler breezed past them on a downhill slope.
Crivaro didn’t reply.
The traffic on the interstate taking them north was moderately heavy but
moving along at a steady clip. But Crivaro seemed determined to pass every
vehicle he fell behind. Whenever he swung over into the left lane, he caused
the ire of faster drivers. In his frustration, he was switching lanes recklessly, and Riley didn’t think he was making much better time than he would by just
staying in the right lane.
Pounding his fist on the steering wheel, Crivaro complained, “Why is
everybody being such a pain in the ass? What’s the matter with these
drivers?”
Riley wanted to say …
“They value their own lives.”
But Agent Crivaro was in a bad enough mood already. They’d been in
such a hurry to get on the road that he hadn’t had time to rent or borrow a
regular car. Back at the campground when they’d been frantically
disconnecting the utilities, he’d told her that a new body had been found this
morning on a hiking trail at Sedona. The police chief there had heard that the
FBI was in Arizona investigating a serial killer, so he’d called the FBI’s
district office right away, and they in turn had called Crivaro.
And now here they were, driving madly toward Sedona.
Riley could only hope they’d get there in one piece.
The traffic soon thinned out a little, and Crivaro’s lane changes became
less frequent and less crazed. No longer so alarmed by his driving, Riley
found herself wondering again about another question—whether he might be
planning to dump her as a partner. What else was she to think, after he’d
given her such meaningless tasks to do this morning?
She finally decided …
Maybe it’s time to clear the air.
She took a deep breath and said …
“Agent Crivaro, I don’t understand why you wanted me to make that
phone call to Brett’s mother.”
“You don’t?” Crivaro replied.
“No. There was nothing to learn from her. And it was a really tough call to
make—emotionally, I mean. Both she and I felt lousy by the end of it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Crivaro said.
Riley felt sure she heard a note of sarcasm in his voice.
She swallowed hard and said …
“I can’t help wondering …”
But she stopped without finishing her thought.
“Wondering what?” Crivaro said, glancing at her. “Wondering if it was
maybe some kind of punishment for how you’d screwed up yesterday?”
Riley was startled.
She said, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was wondering. That, and whether
you’re through with me, and you’re just trying to get me to quit and go home.
If that’s what you’ve got in mind, I wish you’d just fire me and get it over
with. Because until you do, I’m just going to hang around and be a pain in the
ass.”
Crivaro shook his head and said, “So you didn’t find out anything new
from the mother.”
“No. And I think you knew perfectly well that I wouldn’t.”
Crivaro chuckled a little and said, “Are you sure you didn’t find out
anything?”
“What was there to find out?” Riley asked.
“That’s what I’m asking you,” Crivaro said. “Are you absolutely sure you
ended that call without knowing anything you didn’t know before?”
Riley replayed some of the painful conversation in her mind.
She remembered Mrs. Parma asking Riley about her daughter.
“Can you tell me why she went away like that?”
It had struck Riley as such a strange, sad, and desperate question. And yet
somehow she felt as though she had known the answer.
She gathered her thoughts and said to Crivaro …
“I guess I learned … that Brett Parma was unhappy with her life. She was
very nearly estranged from her mother, and she was bored with North Platte.
She’d lived there all her life, but she felt like a stranger. She felt like she was all alone, even with people she’d always known. She didn’t feel close to
anybody anymore. She wondered if she ever would again.”
Crivaro chuckled again and said, “Well, that sounds like something. I find it pretty interesting.”
“Why?” Riley said. “Brett was murdered by a serial killer, someone who
murdered his first victim in Colorado. Brett barely knew him, if she knew
him at all. Her life back in North Platte and everybody she knew and grew up
with there—all that stuff is pretty irrelevant. It’s got nothing to do with how she died.”
Crivaro shrugged and said, “If you say so.”
“Well, don’t you think so too?” Riley asked.
“How should I know?” Crivaro said. “You’re the one who can figure it out
—or can’t.”
Riley stared at him with her mouth hanging open. The way he was
speaking in riddles was frustrating her to no end. She wondered—had he
figured out something she ought to have figured out herself by now?
Crivaro said in a stern voice, “Just remember—a murder case is like a
living organism. It’s all of a piece, and everything about it is connected to
everything else. It’s up to you to find out how. Sometimes even what seem to
be blind alleys can lead you somewhere important. Then again, sometimes
they don’t. Either way, you’ve got to follow wherever they lead you.”
Riley sat staring out the window, trying to make sense of what he was
telling her. Whatever it was, maybe it would dawn on her later on.
Meanwhile, she felt some relief that he was going to the trouble of teasing her along this way. He was acting like a mentor again …
Not like someone who wants to get rid of me.
She wondered how long it would last.
*
After a couple of hours of driving, Riley and Crivaro pulled off the
freeway. Following the directions Crivaro had gotten from the Phoenix
office, they wound their way up a smaller road. Riley knew they’d arrived at
their destination when they came to a roadblock with a cluster of vehicles
parked just beyond it.
A small camper was also parked there—the victim’s camper, Riley
guessed. It was a good bit smaller than the one Riley and Crivaro had rented,
but it looked shiny and new.
Riley and Crivaro got out of their car, walked past the roadblock, and
ducked under a line of yellow police tape. That attracted the attention of a
uniformed cop who emerged from between the parked vehicles.
He yelled at them, “Hey, can’t you see the tape? No tourists allowed
through here right now!”
Crivaro pulled out his badge and introduced himself, and so did Riley.
The cop looked skeptical. He reached for Jake’s badge and said, “Lemme
see that.”
Criva
ro yanked the badge away from him, looking incredulous that
anyone would doubt its authenticity.
Riley smiled a little.
Crivaro seemed to have forgotten that they were both still dressed like
vacationers, in T-shirts, shorts, and sandals.
I guess our cover’s pretty convincing after all, she thought.
The cop who’d stopped them didn’t move aside, but another uniformed
officer appeared behind him and yelled, “Hey, Arlo, what’s the matter with
you? If they say they’re FBI, they’re really FBI. The chief is expecting
them.”
Still looking annoyed, Arlo finally stepped out of their way. The friendlier
cop led Riley and Crivaro past the police cars and the medical examiner’s
van. Riley noticed a terrified-looking man and woman sitting in the back of
one of the police cars. Riley guessed they were the couple who’d found the
body.
She and Crivaro followed the cop past a sign that read TRANSEPT
TRAIL. As they walked onto the trail, the cop pointed out a few boot prints that went both ways along the trail—the killer’s own footprints, Riley
assumed.
“We got lucky,” the cop said. “Rained a little last night. Maybe we can get
something from these.”
As the three of them stepped carefully around the prints, Riley looked at
the prints closely. She figured the man must have left these when he’d
brought the body out here after the rain. Just like at Phoenix, he’d committed
the actual murder elsewhere. Any other footprints seem to have been washed
away.
The boot prints looked perfectly ordinary, so Riley didn’t think they’d get
much useful information from them. She guessed the man to be of average
height. Although the trail wasn’t the least bit challenging, he must have been
fairly strong to carry the body along here without stumbling.
The cop led them a short way along the trail and up a slight rise. On the
flat area at the top, several people were standing under a tarp that had been
set up to protect the crime scene.
A uniformed man wearing an outback hat stepped forward to meet them,
and Riley and Crivaro produced their badges again.
The man nodded and introduced himself as Trevor Wilson, Sedona’s chief
of police. He introduced Riley and Crivaro to Jay Faulkner, the county
medical examiner.
Chief Wilson said, “I take it we’re dealing with a serial killer.”
“Yeah, that’s why we’re here,” Crivaro replied.
Wilson shook his head and said, “Not to sound callous, but that’s the last
thing we need in a tourist town like this. I hope we can put a stop to it soon.”
“We’ll do what we can,” Crivaro said. “What do you know so far?”
“She was Shelby Eden from Phoenix,” Wilson told him. “She’d been
staying at the Spring View Campground right here in Sedona. Not much
more than that. Cards in her wallet identified her with a thing called Eden
Financial Services in Phoenix. When we called there, we were told she was
no longer connected with that company. Seems her ex-husband is in charge.
We haven’t reached him yet.”
As Crivaro and Wilson discussed the possibility of the ex-husband being
implicated, Riley gazed down at the body. The victim lay sprawled
carelessly, untouched by scavengers this time, and for a moment Riley found
it hard to believe she was really dead. It looked more as though an actor had been hired to lie here and play the part of a corpse—an actor who had put on
some kind of pale body paint that made her skin look almost like white
porcelain. Riley wondered …
Was Shelby Eden unhappy with her life? Was she as eager to get away as
Brett Parma had been? Is that what tied the two victims together?
It didn’t feel right somehow. There must be something else.
An eerie feeling came over Riley as she looked away from the porcelain
body and up at their surroundings. The whole setup seemed unreal. In the
distance impressive buttes and reddish sandstone boulders stood out against
an intense blue sky. In the area where the woman lay dead the trail widened
out to form a sort of stone platform, almost like a big altar with the body at its center.
Remembering the name of the trail, Riley asked Wilson …
“Why is this called Transept Trail?”
Wilson pointed and explained …
“It’s because of the way the path here intersects with the ridge to form a
kind of cross shape, like the transept of a church.”
Looking intrigued, Crivaro asked, “Is there anything special or significant
about this spot?”
Wilson shrugged and said, “Not that I know of. But I wouldn’t take my
word for it. New Agers are always finding supposed power spots and mini-
vortexes and such around Sedona, places where they go to meditate—places
with shamanic qualities, they’ll try to tell you. For all I know, this might be one of those spots. But if that’s what it is, not many people know about it, or I’d have heard of it.”
Riley got an eerie tingling feeling as she realized …
Yes, this is one of those spots.
And suddenly she felt a strong sense of the killer’s presence.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A powerful sense of connection with the killer swept over Riley, so strong
it made her take a few steps back. She wondered if this could really be some
kind of “power spot.”
Then she reminded herself sternly…
There’s nothing mystical about this.
It was like Crivaro had told her yesterday.
“This isn’t magic, and it isn’t mind-reading or anything psychic.”
What she was good at was telling herself a story—a story that had a good
chance of bearing a strong resemblance to what had really happened.
That’s what I’ve got to do now, she thought.
Tell a story.
She heard Crivaro chattering with the chief and the ME. She was glad
nobody seemed to be paying much attention to her right now. She could slip
into a reverie without anybody noticing.
She took a deep breath and pictured what this place must have looked like
last night, possibly not long after sunset.
It wouldn’t have been completely dark.
Back at the Wren’s Nest Campground last night, she’d noticed a bright
full moon in the sky. But the cop had just said it had rained here some, which
meant there must have been clouds as well.
Riley retraced her steps back down the trail a bit, then started walking
toward the altar-like spot again, taking in the view just as the killer must have done. She felt sure that he’d known he’d find the woman here. Somehow,
he’d been stalking her and knew she was going to be taking this hike alone …
He feels a deep satisfaction as he spots her, sitting there meditating
silently in the moonlight. All he has to do now was take care not to alarm her
—and to thoroughly win her trust.
He knows it will be easy to do.
He walks beside her and says in a gentle voice …
“Do you mind if I join you?”
The woman opens her eyes and looks at him—startled at first, but then
pleased.
She says, “I didn’t expect anybody else to be here.”
He chuckles a little and says,
“Neither did I. Strange, isn’t it?”
She looks at him silently for a moment with an expression of keen interest.
She shyly asks, “Are you … another seeker?”
He nods and flashes his most charming smile.
“Of course,” he says. “Why else would I be here?”
Her eyes are glittering in the moonlight. He senses that he is working a
rarer spell on her than he’d expected. She obviously knows that their meeting here can’t be coincidence. Of course she has no idea of what had really
brought him here. Instead, she seems to think that more spiritual forces are involved, that they might even be …
Soul mates.
The idea amuses him.
Yes, everything is going perfectly.
She pats the ground next to her and says …
“Please, do sit down, let’s meditate together.”
He sits down next to her cross-legged and closes his eyes. After a few
moments, he opens his eyes again and looks at her sitting there.
Her eyes are still closed and she has a rapt and tranquil expression on her face.
He, too, feels joyfully calm, although for very different reasons.
He is imagining her fear and agony as the blood pours out of her wrists.
He is imagining how exquisitely pale she’ll look when she is dead.
Just then he feels a few sprinkles of water.
It’s starting to rain, he realizes.
The woman’s eyes snap open.
“Oh!” she says with a gasp. “I guess we’d better get out of the rain!”
They both laugh as they jump to their feet and hurry back along the path
the way they’d come. He puts his arm around her as they go—which doesn’t
keep off the rain, of course, but she seems to enjoy the gesture. She trusts him completely.
Yes, he knows that’s the secret of his success …
Trust.
Riley yanked herself out of her reverie as that word echoed through her
head …
Trust.
Something was starting to come together in her mind now. She
remembered what Crivaro had said when he’d nagged her about her phone
call to Brett Parma’s mother.
“Are you sure you didn’t find out anything?”
Indeed, she had found out something, although it hadn’t occurred to her
that it was important at the time. She’d found out that Brett was unhappy and
bored and felt alienated from people she’d known since she was a child. She
