by Blake Pierce
She gulped and thought …
Something’s wrong here.
As she hesitated again, Pete said with a smile …
“It’s getting colder out here. Are you coming in or aren’t you?”
Sally felt a little embarrassed at her own reluctance. Sure, she could turn
down his invitation, but …
What kind of a free spirit would do that?
As she followed him the last few steps to his fancy motor home, she
figured she knew at least one thing for sure …
This is going to be another adventure.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Riley’s teeth were clenched as she drove down through the mountains,
away from the Thorpe Overlook and Crayfish Creek Campground. She was
furious with herself.
“Stupid,” she growled under her breath. “I was so stupid.”
Crivaro chuckled from the passenger seat. “What are you complaining
about? We caught a bad guy, didn’t we? And it was your doing.”
It was all Riley could do not to explode with anger.
She replied, “We caught some ordinary dork, Agent Crivaro—a stupid,
harmless guy who happened to have a stash of pot that he didn’t know how to
get rid of.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Crivaro’s shrug.
“Well, the last I heard, pot’s illegal,” Crivaro said. “Especially smuggling
and selling it. Although I hear tell that might change one of these days, at
least in some places. Meanwhile, you successfully tracked down a bona fide
lawbreaker, and that’s something, isn’t it? Maybe you should reconsider this
whole BAU thing. Maybe you’ve got a career in the DEA.”
Crivaro chuckled some more at this remark.
“You think this whole thing is funny, don’t you?” Riley grumbled.
Crivaro sighed and said, “Kid, in our line of work, you’ve got to laugh
once in a while, even when things don’t seem very funny. Maybe especially
at times like this. The job will kill you if you don’t keep your sense of humor.
That’s one thing they didn’t teach you at the Academy, I guess. Too bad. It’s
time you learned.”
Riley noticed that Crivaro wasn’t laughing anymore. His voice sounded
tired and discouraged. She knew he’d just been trying to find something to
make light of, now that things were going so badly.
And it’s all my fault, she thought.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I had a hunch, and I insisted that we follow it,
and—”
Crivaro interrupted, “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. A hunch is a
hunch. It’s not rocket science, and it’s not brain surgery either. Hunches are
wrong a good percentage of the time. Mine are and yours will be too.”
Riley drove in silence for a moment. Then she said, “The killer’s still out
there.”
“I know,” Crivaro replied.
“He might be getting ready to kill somebody else right now. Or he might
have already done it.”
“I know that too,” Crivaro said.
“So what do we do now?” Riley said.
“That’s a good question. I was hoping you could tell me. I was all for
staying right there at Crayfish Creek until we could think of some new
strategy. Maybe get a good night’s sleep there first, because I think we could
really use it. It was your idea to head right out driving God knows where.”
Riley shook her head and thought …
“God knows where” is right.
She’d insisted on leaving as soon as the campground’s security people had
George Carver safely in custody and the police were on their way. The
evidence against the man was obvious, and the security guys had seemed
happy enough to take credit for the arrest.
She and Crivaro could write or phone in additional statements if anybody
needed them.
Riley had felt as though she couldn’t stand another minute in that place
where she’d made such a stupid mistake.
But now that they were on the road again, she had no idea where they
were going.
At least it was a bit of a relief to be descending out of the mountains.
She’d found it rather nerve-wracking to drive this Class C behemoth through
snow on the road at those higher altitudes. Their RV wasn’t equipped for that
kind of travel, and she knew they were lucky to have made their way out
without getting stuck. By the time they got back to the main highway, the
roads were clear. Any snow that had fallen here had melted off promptly.
Rather than retrace their route back toward Arizona, Riley turned right on
the highway. Then she said to Crivaro, “Get the map out of the glove
compartment.”
“Why?” Crivaro asked.
“Just do it, OK?” Riley said. “Give me some idea of where we might be
headed. Because I sure as hell don’t have any idea.”
Crivaro let out a soft groan. He clicked open the glove compartment and
took out the map, which rattled as he unfolded it. He peered closely at it with
a little penlight and said in a mildly sarcastic tone …
“Well, if we keep heading west like this, we’ll wind up in beautiful Zion
National Park. Or we can turn north and wind up in the equally beautiful
Dixie National Forest. The thing I want to know is, why would anybody want to go camping in any of these places at this time of year?”
Riley grumbled, “Campgrounds for RVs, Agent Crivaro. Or even better,
motor home resorts. We’re looking for a place to stay for what’s left of this
night.”
“Well, we could drive right back to Crayfish Creek and—”
“That’s not going to happen,” Riley snapped at him. “Find somewhere that
we can rest and regroup.”
Riley was startled by the sharpness in her own voice.
Who do I think I am, giving him orders like that?
She wasn’t sure why Crivaro didn’t snap her head off in reply, except that
he seemed too tired and listless to bother.
As he rustled the map some more, Crivaro said, “Well, we’ve got a lot of
choices in this part of the country. There’s the Water Sedge Campground,
Kehoe Gulch Resort, Indiangrass Campground, and the Delphi RV Resort—”
“The what?” Riley interrupted.
“The Delphi RV Resort. Have you heard of it?”
Yes, I have, Riley thought.
It took her a moment to remember just when or where, but then it came to
her. Back at the Spring View Campground, the women she’d talked with had
spoken of Delphi in the most glowing way …
“… a very blessed place …”
Riley also remembered what the women had said about the people who
went there …
“… the very best people …”
“… evolved people …”
“… people with the highest self-esteem …”
“… people who know their true self-worth.”
Riley heard Crivaro say, “Well, that sounds nice.”
Riley blushed to realize she’d said at least some of those words aloud.
I guess I’m pretty tired too, she thought.
Crivaro added, “Sounds pretty ritzy, though. I’m not sure we should be
living too high on the hog at the Bureau’s expense. Maybe we should go with
one of the cheaper places.”
Riley didn
’t reply. Instead, her own words were rattling in her head now—
things she’d said when she’d been trying to profile the killer. Aside from the
obvious fact that he was well off financially, she remembered describing him
with words like …
… arrogant … superior … entitled …
She also flashed back to something Crivaro just said …
“Why would anybody want to go camping in any of these places at this time of year?”
Then she remembered something else one of the women had said.
“Nobody who is anybody would ever miss out on going to Delphi.”
Riley felt a sharp jolt of intuition.
He definitely considers himself to be somebody, she thought.
Somebody very special.
Somebody with lots of self-esteem.
Somebody very … evolved.
She said to Crivaro, “Tell me how to get there. To Delphi.”
“Huh?” Crivaro said.
“Give me directions,” Riley said.
Crivaro checked the map again. “You’re headed in the right direction,” he
said. “It’s just off this highway, on the right. Should be about an hour.”
Folding up the map, Crivaro asked, “Would you mind telling why you
want to do this?”
Riley tried to think of how to explain her gut feeling. But before she could
say a word, Crivaro said …
“You know what? Skip it. I’ll take your word for it. I’ll leave the whole
thing in your capable hands.”
Riley was startled to see that he was unsnapping his shoulder harness.
What’s he going to do? she wondered.
Was he going to tell her to pull off the highway and let him out? Was he
so discouraged that he was giving up on the case—and on her as well? Was
he just going to disappear into the night?
Instead, he awkwardly began to climb between the two seats back into the
living section of the RV.
“Where are you going?” Riley asked.
“To get some sleep,” Crivaro said. “I’m bone tired. Right now I’m no use
to you or anybody else.”
He disappeared into the darkness behind her.
Riley felt shaken.
He sounds so discouraged, she thought.
Now that she thought about it, he’d been sounding that way a lot lately.
Actually, he’d seemed depressed much of the time since they’d flown out to
Arizona.
Now Riley felt a pang of guilt. All this time, she’d been thinking about
herself—whether Crivaro was angry with her, whether he even wanted her to
be his partner. It really hadn’t occurred to her …
Something is really bothering him.
Probably something that had little or nothing to do with her.
She wished she could ask him about it, but she figured he was already
lying down and dozing off by now. And besides, he hadn’t seemed to be in
the mood to talk about anything.
Maybe later, she thought.
Meanwhile, she’d made a decision for both of them, and Crivaro seemed
to be resigned to accepting it.
They were going to the Delphi RV Resort.
This time I’d better be right, she thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
The man was pleased as the woman named Sally accompanied him the last
few steps toward his RV. In glow of streetlamps that illuminated the swirling
snow, he was again struck by her healthy, vigorous appearance.
That’s not going to last, he told himself.
Very soon, she’d be looking pale and weak, just like the others.
She’d seemed startled to see him just now when they met on the outdoor
path.
I caught her off guard, he realized.
Of course, that had been part of his design. When she’d sat alone in the
clubhouse sipping her drink, he’d been standing outdoors in the shadows for
a while. Although he’d told her he’d meet her in that clubhouse, he’d never
had any such intention.
Watching through the window, he’d observed her body language. He’d
seen how she’d fingered the rim of her glass in boredom … how she’d
slouched in her chair as it had seemed to occur to her little by little that she was going to be alone here at the Delphi Campground after all. When he felt
sure she’d been about to decide that he wasn’t going to show up, he’d
returned to his motor home to wait for her.
He’d parked where he could watch the walkways she’d be taking on the
way back to her own RV. So when she’d given up waiting and started
walking back to her trailer, it had been easy to abruptly appear in front of her on the path.
A masterstroke.
He was proud at how disarmed she’d been, and it gave him a feeling of
power. And power, after all, was what all these special events were about. He
was taking back power over his own life after years of feeling fearful and
helpless deep down inside, in a part of his psyche where nobody else could
see his pain.
He knew this last murder would complete the process once and for all.
He felt absolutely sure of it.
He heard Sally gasp as she stepped up through the doorway into his motor
home. He smiled at her obvious astonishment as he walked in behind her.
The interior of his elegant camper was lit entirely by candlelight. This was partly out of necessity and partly out of cunning. He hadn’t hooked up his RV
to any of the campground facilities, including electricity, and he didn’t want
to use up his battery. He needed to be able to pull out of here in a hurry in
order to carry out his plan.
But he also found the effect of the candles stunning, rather romantic, and
even a bit Gothic.
He only hoped it wasn’t too much for her. He didn’t want to spook her
into trying to leave. Not that he had any intention of letting her get out of the RV alive. But he wanted this killing to be different from the others, much less abrupt.
This time he actually wanted to spend some time with his victim, savor the
experience, get to know her better than he already did.
And he’d made all the necessary preparations.
The dining table was set with two crystal glasses and an open bottle of red
wine, plus a tray with cheese, crackers, and other snacks. His crowning touch,
he thought, was the serrated knife for slicing the cheese. It was the same
knife he’d used to kill three other women.
And he was certainly going to use it to kill Sally.
“Please,” he said to her. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Sally didn’t look especially comfortable. Her mouth hung open a little,
and her eyes were wide with amazement. Nevertheless, she sat down at the
table.
The man sat across from her, watching her closely.
She stared at the candlelit wine and snacks and stammered …
“Pete, I—I don’t know about this.”
The mention of his made-up name took him slightly aback and her words
worried him a little.
With the most charming smile he could muster, he said, “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just wanted our evening to be … special.”
Sally laughed nervously and said, “Oh, it’s special, all right. It’s just …
not what I’d expected.”
He chuckled and said, “I’m told that I have that effect on people. I hope
this is
all right.”
He waited to hear her say it was all right.
But she didn’t say anything at all.
Instead, she visibly shivered.
Is she cold? he wondered.
That couldn’t be it. His propane heater kept the motor home quite warm. If
anything, the man was afraid it might get too hot and stuffy.
Careful not to show his insecurity, the man poured wine into the two
glasses.
Then he lifted his glass and said, “Here’s to new acquaintances.”
The woman smiled a little and raised her glass and clicked it against his.
They both sipped the wine.
Still sounding nervous, Sally said, “The last time we talked, I … I went on
and on about myself. I don’t feel like I know anything at all about you.”
She sounded worried about that.
He reached his hand over the table, hoping she’d offer him her own hand.
She didn’t.
With a soft, reassuring chuckle, he said, “Oh, I’ll be glad to tell you
everything. Once I get started, you’ll hear much more about me than you
could possibly want to hear. But first I want to hear much, much more about
you.”
Her eyes darted about for a moment.
Then she sat staring at her own glass of wine with a troubled expression.
The candle nearest her on the tabletop flickered and almost went out, and
it was harder to see the woman’s face clearly. The effect upon the man was
unsettling. He wanted to be able to study that face in detail.
But now, in the wavering light and shadow, her face seemed changed
somehow, but also more familiar.
He gulped hard as he realized …
Aunt Florence.
He’d picked this woman out in the first place because of her resemblance
to his childhood tormentor—the same ruddy skin, the same curly brown hair,
the same piercing blue eyes. Earlier today, the resemblance had pleased him
to no end.
But now, here in the flickering candlelight, the resemblance was too
uncanny.
He struggled to remind himself that she wasn’t a ghost or an apparition.
Even so, he was seized by an irrational spasm of that old childhood terror.
He could imagine her smiling and saying those dreaded words …
“Out of sight, out of mind.”
And if she did, would his strength fail him utterly?
The razor-sharp knife lay on the tray directly between them.
