Blake Pierce - The Making of Riley Paige - 4 - Taking

by Blake Pierce

  disappoint you.”

  “Oh, it won’t!” the woman said excitedly. “I promise you, it won’t!”

  She sat down and started talking eagerly about herself. Her name was

  Sally Marino, she said, and she’d come from Topeka, although she’d never

  really settled down in any particular spot, she’d lived all over the place. She valued her independence and she’d always loved the outdoors.

  Indeed, the man could see that she was quite strong and vigorous-looking,

  considering her diminutive height—nothing at all like his previous victim.

  What an interesting challenge she’d be, he thought.

  When she happened to mention a motor home resort she was planning to

  visit, he chuckled and said, “Well, isn’t that a coincidence! I’m headed there

  myself!”

  “Wow, that is a coincidence!”

  As Sally chattered on, the man felt his decision to quit killing dissolve

  away. This woman seemed like such a gift, as if fate itself had intervened to

  grant him one last glorious murder.

  As he half-listened to what Sally was saying, he began to think ahead to

  what was about to unfold. He’d show her his RV as soon as they’d finish

  eating, then they’d both drive on their way. His choice had been made for

  him, and he’d be driving north into Utah before he took any turns.

  At some point very soon, they would each arrive at their mutual

  destination.

  Then they’d meet again, and …

  Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, he thought.

  After all, an element of surprise was what would make this encounter the

  most pleasurable of all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Riley was swerving their RV from the left lane into the right lane when

  Crivaro yelped out …

  “Car!”

  Alarmed, Riley swung the vehicle back into the left lane a little too

  abruptly, making the vehicle sway and weave a little.

  She snapped back at Crivaro, “I didn’t see the car.”

  Crivaro pointed out the window and said, “That’s because you’re not

  using the mirror on this side correctly.”

  “It’s so hard to see,” Riley said.

  “Then tell me whenever you want to switch to the right lane so I can look

  out for you.”

  Riley stifled a sigh. There seemed to be no end to the complications

  involved with driving this rig. No wonder Crivaro had wanted some relief

  from it.

  Crivaro chuckled and added, “Don’t forget, you’re driving a small house.”

  Riley cringed a little to hear him repeat the words she’d said earlier when

  he’d been trying to race through traffic.

  Maybe I had it coming, she admitted to herself.

  After all, maybe she’d been a little cocky about Crivaro’s driving. He’d

  gotten to be really good with this rig, which was why Riley had expected it to

  be easy—or at least easier than driving with the tow trailer she and Ryan had

  used to move their stuff to their new apartment in DC. For one thing, she’d

  figured she wouldn’t have to worry about jackknifing.

  But she’d been driving the motor home for just a few minutes now, and

  she’d already found plenty of other things to worry about. She especially

  hated the rearview mirrors on each side. The extension mirrors Ryan had put

  on his car for their trailer had been hard enough to use, but at least those had been just simple flat planes. Now she had to keep track of reflections in a pair of mirrors on each side of the RV.

  Below the larger, ordinary flat-plane mirror was a smaller convex mirror

  that made reflected objects look smaller than they were. That one was

  supposed to be useful for dealing with blind spots, but she obviously hadn’t

  yet gotten the hang of which one she should be watching.

  So she’d almost hit a car. She shuddered to think of what that could have meant.

  The close shave made her feel shaky, but she was determined to master the

  skill of driving this bulky vehicle. She was glad she hadn’t picked out one of

  the really big Class A motor homes back at the rental lot. She was having

  plenty of trouble with their Class C, and it was just mid-sized.

  She felt sure of one thing. Crivaro would let her know whatever she was

  doing wrong. He’d been criticizing her driving pretty much nonstop since

  they’d left that roadblock area.

  But even as Riley glanced anxiously back and forth between the road and

  the mirrors, she saw Crivaro put his hands behind his head and appear to

  relax a bit.

  He said, “Well, you seem to be getting the hang of this tub. Maybe we

  should talk strategy. You’re the girl with the plan. Now that we’re on our

  way, tell me what we’re going to do next.”

  Riley stifled a sigh. She wished he hadn’t asked her that. Sure, it had been

  her idea to drive north in search of a lone driver in a white Winnebago who

  claimed to be going to the Crayfish Creek Campground. But she really hadn’t

  thought beyond that. She’d hoped Crivaro would have some ideas.

  She thought for a moment, then replied, “We probably should call ahead

  to the campground, let the security people there know we’re on our way.”

  Crivaro let out a sarcastic gasp.

  “What?” he asked. “We’re not going undercover again?”

  “Not in these outfits,” she said.

  She was glad she and Crivaro had changed back into the clothes they’d

  worn when they’d flown out from Quantico. Their ordinary outfits were

  better suited to the cooler weather, but Riley and Crivaro sure didn’t look like campers anymore.

  Crivaro let out a mock sigh.

  “How will I ever get over my disappointment?” he said.

  “Ha-ha-ha, very funny,” Riley grumbled. “You make the call, I’m

  driving.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Crivaro said.

  Crivaro took out his cell phone and called directory assistance for the

  campground phone number. He punched in the number and put the call on

  speakerphone. When a security officer named Perosky answered, Crivaro

  explained that they were BAU agents looking for a serial killer.

  “Jesus,” Perosky said. “You mean the psychopath who killed those women

  down in Arizona?”

  “That’s right,” Crivaro said.

  “And you think he’s headed our way?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Crivaro said. “We got a tip that he

  might be stopping at your campground on the way to Bryce Canyon. How are

  things there right now? Have you noticed anybody out of the ordinary?”

  Perosky said, “No, things are actually pretty slow here, not many visitors

  right now. We’ve had snow, and that keeps all but the hardy types away from

  here.”

  Riley glanced over and Crivaro and mouthed the word …

  “Snow?”

  Crivaro shrugged at her and kept talking to Perosky.

  “We’re looking for a white Winnebago.”

  Perosky said, “Well, I can tell you for sure we don’t have any of those

  right at the moment. The biggest RVs we’ve got here are Class C. They’re

  better suited for the roads in these conditions.”

  Riley wasn’t surprised to hear this, and she was sure Crivaro wasn’t either.

  There was no way the driver who’d been stopped at the roadblock c
ould have

  gotten that far north in so short a time.

  Crivaro said to Perosky, “Listen, keep your eye out for a big Winnebago,

  especially if it’s got a red stripe along its side. If one shows up, call us right away.”

  “Got it,” Perosky said.

  Crivaro said, “My partner and I are driving a Class C. How is your road?”

  “Pretty good. You won’t have any trouble getting here in that kind of rig.

  But if you continue on up to Bryce Canyon, that’s another story. You’d have

  to be winterized. You’d need good boots to walk around.” He chuckled and

  added, “Or show shoes.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Crivaro said, ending the call.

  Then he said under his breath to Riley, “Snow. Jesus. We were in the

  desert just yesterday, and it was mild even in Sedona.”

  Riley said, “Hey, don’t forget, it’s almost Christmas. And we’re moving

  into higher altitudes.”

  Crivaro said, “Well, I sure hope we don’t wind up having to follow this

  guy any farther north. We’re just not equipped to go chasing a suspect through any serious snow.”

  *

  Riley and Crivaro soon passed Flagstaff, and the freeway traffic thinned

  out, making driving easier for Riley. But after another three hours on the

  road, darkness was starting to fall. As they drove into higher altitudes, they

  saw some pines and cedars. Other trees were bare of any leaves. It had been

  snowing here lately, but the highway was reasonably clear.

  Eventually they turned off the highway onto a smaller road. It had been

  plowed, but not as recently as the highway. A covering of snow was packed

  down by vehicles that had been coming and going this way.

  By the time they were just a mile or so from the Crayfish Creek

  Campground, they still hadn’t heard anything back from Perosky.

  Crivaro shook his head with resignation.

  “I hate to say it, but this whole trip is a bust. Perosky would have called if

  our Winnebago guy had shown up. And there’s no way he wouldn’t have

  gotten there by now.”

  Riley didn’t reply, but she figured her partner was right.

  Which means my hunch was wrong.

  Worse, they’d driven way up into Utah on a wasted trip at her insistence.

  Riley stifled a deep, discouraged sigh. Although he wasn’t showing it, she

  knew that Crivaro’s patience with her was surely waning. After this fiasco,

  would he take any advice from her ever again? She doubted it.

  Then Crivaro’s phone buzzed.

  It was Perosky again.

  “Hey, I see a white Winnebago pulling up to the gate right now.”

  Crivaro asked, “Can you see the driver? Does the vehicle have a red stripe

  on its side?”

  “It’s too dark to tell from here,” Perosky said. “What should I do?”

  Riley and Crivaro exchanged eager glances.

  Crivaro said, “Whatever you do, Perosky, don’t alarm the driver. Treat

  him just like any other camper. If he’s our guy, we’ll apprehend him when

  we get there.”

  They ended the call and Crivaro said in an excited voice …

  “I’ll be damned. You might have been right after all.”

  But Riley didn’t dare get her hopes up.

  When they pulled up to the campground gate a few minutes later, they

  found a man in a security uniform waiting for them. Crivaro rolled down the

  passenger window and asked him, “Are you Perosky?”

  The man nodded.

  “Where’s the vehicle?” Crivaro asked.

  Perosky pointed and said, “Over there. But I don’t guess it’s the one

  you’re looking for.”

  Sure enough, Riley and Crivaro saw the Winnebago that had pulled into

  the parking area. A man, a woman, and two children had already gotten out

  of the RV to stretch their legs after their drive here. They were all well

  bundled up and were obviously enjoying the snow.

  A family, Riley realized.

  She and Crivaro both knew that there was no way the actual killer would

  be traveling with a family.

  In a weary voice, Crivaro thanked Perosky for his help. The security man

  nodded and walked over to the check-in booth. Riley turned off the lights and

  engine. She and Crivaro sat in the cab of their vehicle. A whole minute

  passed with neither of them saying anything.

  Finally Crivaro said in a sullen voice, “Well, so much for your brilliant

  theory, Riley. Now what do we do?”

  Before Riley could think of anything to say, Crivaro snapped at her …

  “Never mind. Your crazy ideas dragged us all the way up here to the

  goddamn frozen north with no killer in sight. I say we drive back down to

  Sedona, team up with Chief Wilson again, start from scratch.”

  Riley could hardly believe her ears.

  “What do you mean, start from scratch?” she said. “Do you seriously think

  the killer is still anywhere around there?”

  “Well, he’s not around here, that’s for sure.”

  “How can we be sure?” Riley said.

  Crivaro growled, “We can’t be sure of anything. He could be anywhere—

  east, west, north, or south. That’s why we’ve got to go back and regroup, set

  up a stable base of operations in Sedona.”

  Riley gripped the steering wheel and gritted her teeth.

  “No,” she said.

  Crivaro said, “Damn it, kid, you can’t go getting mad every time you’re wrong about something. Let’s get out, stretch our legs for a minute, and then

  I’ll take over the driving. You’re too pissed off to drive.”

  “And you’re not?” Riley asked in an angry voice.

  Crivaro stared at her, apparently startled by her tone.

  Then he said, “You’re just being stubborn.”

  Riley felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she was just being stubborn. She was angry, all right—but was she angry with Crivaro for wanting to go back to

  Sedona, or at herself for screwing things up so badly?

  She sat there for a moment, trying to convince herself that she’d been

  wrong all along, and that the killer hadn’t come north after all.

  But the more she tried, the more stubborn she felt.

  She just couldn’t help herself.

  Her thoughts thrashed around as she tried to think of something, anything,

  to allay her own doubts. Suddenly a single word popped into her mind …

  Boondocking.

  It took a moment for her to remember where she’d heard that word before.

  When it came to her, Riley said to Crivaro …

  “I’ll bet he’s boondocking.”

  Crivaro squinted at her and said, “You bet he’s what?”

  “Boondocking. The women back at the Spring View Campground told me

  about it. It means parking an RV offsite without using any campground

  utilities—you know, like electricity and water and sewage. I think that’s what

  our guy must be doing.”

  Crivaro rolled his eyes.

  “Oh come on, Riley—”

  Riley interrupted, “Think about it, Jake. He can’t get too settled down in a

  particular spot. He’s got to stay mobile. After a killing, he’s got to get on the move again right away. That means he’s not a regular camper. He’s a

  boondocker.”

  Crivaro said, “So what? Even if you’re right, which I’ve got no reason to

  believe, what are we supposed to
do with this great new insight of yours?”

  That’s a good question, Riley realized.

  Without another moment’s thought, she opened the driver’s door and

  jumped out.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Crivaro yelled.

  Riley didn’t reply. Ignoring the cold soaking into her FBI shoes, she walked straight over to the check-in booth and poked her head inside.

  Perosky was in there talking to another campground employee. Riley heard

  Crivaro’s footsteps as he came trotting up behind her.

  She said to Perosky, “Do you get boondockers in this area?”

  Perosky tilted his head with surprise.

  “Yeah, we get some,” he said.

  The employee he had been talking to added, “They really piss us off,

  staying off the grid when they ought to be camping right here to pay for our

  services. Just a bunch of bums as far as we’re concerned.”

  Perosky added, “In most other areas, boondockers do their squatting in

  shopping center parking lots, places like that. We don’t have any shopping

  centers near here. But lately I drove by a few campers who’d hunkered down

  over at Thorpe Overlook.”

  The employee nodded and said, “Yeah, I noticed them too. It’s illegal

  there, and I’ve been meaning to call the Highway Patrol to come and clear

  them out. Not that it would do much good. As soon as you’ve kicked out one

  bunch, more of them set up someplace else. It’s a real pain in the ass.”

  Riley asked for directions to Thorpe Overlook, and the two men told her

  how to drive there. Then she dashed back to the RV with Crivaro hurrying

  right behind her. She climbed back into the driver’s side, and Crivaro got

  back into the passenger seat.

  As she started the engine again, Crivaro grumbled, “Where are we going

  now?”

  Riley asked, “Where do you think we’re going?”

  Crivaro let out a groan of frustration as Riley started to drive, fishtailing

  the vehicle on the packed snow in her haste to get away.

  “Riley, you’re wrong about this,” Crivaro said. “And damn it, you know you’re wrong.”

  Riley wondered, Is he right?

  Did she seriously think they were going to find the killer at Thorpe

  Overlook?

  She didn’t feel like she was following any real instincts right now. It felt

  more like that she was acting out of sheer stubbornness. She just couldn’t