“Good for you, Fannie.” Thayne held out his hand to Riley. “Shall we look at your room?”
She took his. “If I’ve made our murderer uncomfortable, I’d like to figure out exactly why.”
Once upstairs Thayne opened the door to her room, and Riley stepped inside. “What a mess,” she muttered. They’d left her murder wall pretty much alone, though.
Thayne didn’t like the quivering of her legs as she crossed the room.
She swayed and clutched at the bedpost.
“That’s it,” Thayne said. “Tell me what you need and I’ll throw a bag together. You’re coming home with me for some real rest.”
She sank onto the bed but couldn’t stop staring at the photos. “I can’t. I need to be here.”
He sat next to her, rubbing her back and staring at her murder board. All he saw was a jumble of photos, each an entity unto itself. If there was a wider connection, he didn’t see it.
“Look at that picture,” she said. “The one of Aaron and Kim.”
“The one you circled?” he asked.
Riley pushed herself to her feet. Thayne held her elbow to help her cross the room. She tugged off the grisly photo of the burned bodies and the picture of the Jordan family from the newspaper.
“Look at their rings.” Riley pointed to the left finger of Aaron Jordan’s remains, then the left of Kim’s.
“Nothing special. Just plain gold wedding bands.”
“Right? I came back to see this.” She held up the photo from the newspaper. “Aaron isn’t wearing a wedding ring, and Kim wore a ring with a small diamond. The rings don’t match. The killer switched their rings.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but it suddenly feels really personal.”
The Blackwood Ranch was on lockdown. Thayne had finally convinced Riley to come home with him. He peered into his bedroom, watching her snuggled on the bed, finally passed out.
Madison tiptoed out of the room and hovered near the door. “I don’t know how you got her here. There must be magic in your eyes,” she whispered.
Thayne forced a smile at her. “Logic is more like it. Your sister is the toughest woman I’ve ever met, but I also know she hasn’t been sleeping well. She never does on a case. She’ll wake up too soon, unfortunately. And go right back at it.”
Madison chewed on her lower lip, just like Riley. Madison was two years older than Riley, but because she’d been held prisoner for most of her life, she seemed younger. The reality of Riley’s job upset her, and nothing but time would get her used to the idea. She glanced at her sister. “She’s tough, but she shouldn’t have to be. I’m her older sister. That’s supposed to be my job.” She sent Thayne a sad smile. “I think I’ll sit with her a little longer.”
Thayne watched her disappear behind the door. He didn’t blame her. He wanted nothing more than to pull Riley into his arms and lie with her today, tomorrow, forever.
But what he wanted wasn’t in the plan.
He strode down the hall to the living room, where his brother Hudson stood looking out the front window, his rifle conveniently near his hand.
Thayne gave his brother a nod. “Anything?”
Hudson shook his head. “Quiet as a mouse. Gram and Pops are at the hospital taking turns watching the girl.”
Thayne blinked in surprise.
“Don’t worry,” Hudson said. “Dad’s with them, and your deputy’s on duty.” He kept his focus on the outside. “I wish Jackson weren’t working those fires in California. We could use the hands.”
“I don’t even know who we’re looking for,” Thayne said. “I’ve been lucky so far. She could’ve died.”
Hudson scanned the area one last time and crossed the room to his brother. “But she didn’t. You’ve got to hang on to that.”
“The man claiming to be Chloe’s father should be at the office soon. If he doesn’t have answers, we’re back to square one.”
“I’ll watch over them. Quinn is here, and I’ve put the hands on alert. We’ll be fine.”
A high-pitched throat clearing sounded from the hallway. Madison stood there, her chin held high. “I know how to use a gun. Father may have kidnapped me, but he taught me to defend the other kids. It’s time I started being Riley’s big sister.”
Hudson raked his gaze up and down Madison’s body, his doubt clearly written on his face. “That nutjob who took you taught you how to shoot?”
“I know what you’re thinking: Why didn’t I turn it on him?” She shook her head. “I was young. Impressionable. And all too soon I was trapped into protecting the others from even worse than Father. Now I’m free and I won’t allow someone to control Riley.”
Thayne smiled at her. “Me neither. What’s your pleasure?”
“Point nine millimeter. Preferably with a laser sight. Like Riley’s.”
Hudson’s mouth twitched. “I got you covered.” He disappeared into the study, where the guns were located.
Madison looked straight into Thayne’s face. “Find out who did this to my sister. Or else I will.”
Thayne didn’t like the hard look that entered her eyes. He understood it, though. “Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed his own weapon and his Stetson just as Hudson returned with a Glock. “Will this do?” he asked Madison.
She took it and the extra clip and nodded. “No one will get at my sister.”
Hudson nodded at his brother. “What she said. Now go on.”
“Okay then. I have a man to interview. I’ll keep in touch. Tell Riley . . .” He paused. “Never mind. I’ll be back before she wakes.”
The knowledge that Riley was being watched over eased Thayne’s mind. He jumped into his SUV and drove over the cattle guard and onto the highway leading away from the ranch.
This was their biggest lead. He might finally have the answers he needed, but his number one priority would be keeping Chloe and Riley safe.
The drive through the grassy hills didn’t take long. Ironcloud gave him the latest rundown on Andrews. Wasn’t much there, though. He turned onto Main Street, all the while wishing Riley were by his side. He’d have to trust his own instincts during the interview. It’s not like he couldn’t tell a liar when he heard one. For a decade his gut had kept him alive. But Riley . . . she was in a class he couldn’t touch.
He pulled the SUV in front of his building and blinked once when he caught sight of Willow lying in wait next to her bicycle. There was only one reason she’d want to see him. She’d done her computer dirty work and found information on Mr. Andrews. Thayne got out of the car and approached her with a broad smile on his face. “This is a welcome surprise.”
She didn’t smile back. “I found something, and you’re not going to like it.”
His smile instantly vanished. “Figures. There’s not much about today I do like.”
“How’s Riley?”
“She’s a survivor. Always has been.” Thayne glanced at the front door. “Want to go inside?”
Willow shook her head. “No.” She passed a file over to him. “What did your deputies find out?”
“Their computer search didn’t reveal much. Pretty nondescript childhood. Married Kristin, an only child, just out of high school. She gave birth to a daughter a few years later. Kristin’s parents died in a car accident. Then seven years ago, she disappeared. Not as much coverage as I would’ve thought. He didn’t run for reelection three years ago.”
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know,” Willow said. “How about we start with a DUI arrest while he was mayor of Milford, Iowa, but it conveniently just went away.”
“How does that happen?”
“The mayor controlled that town. He had such a tight lid on it you’d have thought he was part of the Mafia. He can’t stop gossip, though. People have been whispering. Some believe he killed his wife.”
She pointed out a couple of documents to Thayne. “Kristin accused him of abuse at least a half dozen times. Basically, she became his personal punching bag.
Over the years with him, she had everything from concussions to a couple of broken ribs. Charges were always dropped. From what I can tell, their sheriff didn’t have the balls to confront the good mayor.”
Thayne’s stomach twisted as he skimmed the hospital’s report. “What’s this last entry?”
“When Ashley—I mean Chloe—was five, she went into a clinic for a broken arm. There were bruises, too. The doctor was concerned and voiced his worries to the mayor. After the next day, Kristin and Ashley Andrews were never heard from again.”
It made him sick to think of the life Kim and Chloe had run from, only for Kim to end up dead.
Willow touched Thayne’s arm and shook her head. “You can’t give that sweet girl to him, Sheriff. Her mother risked everything to get her away from danger.”
He covered her hand with his. “When I took this job, I did so with the promise to serve and protect. I’ll fight to my dying breath to keep her out of his hands.”
She finally smiled and sighed. “Thank you.” She patted his arm. “You’re just what this town needs. Being sheriff’s about more than running a computer. Look what Kim was forced to do because the law didn’t back her up. You know how to fight for justice, Thayne. And you don’t give up. That’s what a Blackwood sheriff has always been.”
“Thanks.” He cocked his head at Willow. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but how’d you get Kristin’s medical records?”
Willow just shrugged. “You’re an upstanding lawman now. You don’t really want to know, do you?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Probably not.”
His grandmother’s friend gave him a quick hug, mounted her bike, and took off toward the B&B. He could just see the Gumshoe Grannies poring over the illicit files and making anonymous calls to Iowa’s attorney general and demanding justice.
Thayne stuffed all the papers back into the file. He hated that he wasn’t surprised. The official record of Philip Andrews showed nothing of what Willow had given him. Kristin Andrews hadn’t had a choice but to run. She’d been brutalized and no one she’d known would help.
Somehow, someway, she’d made her way to Singing River. Where, after seven years of being safe from one hell, she’d been murdered. Life wasn’t fair.
Perhaps law enforcement hadn’t asked the right questions; perhaps Philip had convinced someone in the police department to lose a few pieces of evidence. However it happened, once this was over, Thayne planned on making a call to the Iowa attorney general himself.
Once he figured out how the hell a survivor like Kristin had wound up dead.
He tucked the file under his arm and entered the building.
Alicia’s head popped up from behind the counter at the front of the office. “Is Riley okay?”
“She’ll be fine. She’s resting.” He glanced over at a man sitting in the waiting area. His clothes were well tailored and he seemed relaxed. Oddly so. “Is that Mr. Andrews?”
“It is.” Alicia leaned in close. “I think he’s been drinking.”
Not surprising. It fit his profile, as Riley would say. A gut full of alcohol had a way of turning a mild-mannered man into a raging bull. Thayne gave a quick nod and strode over. “I’m Thayne Blackwood, Singing River sheriff.”
The man swayed to his feet. His talk, lanky form belied the monster that lived beneath his skin. He flushed and held out his hand. “Sorry. Not quite sure what’s wrong with me,” he slurred. “Philip Andrews. Where’s my daughter?”
“Brew us up some coffee, Alicia.” Thayne wasn’t about to take this drunk to see Chloe. “Why don’t you come into my office? Tell me exactly what’s going on.”
Andrews shook his head. “I need to see my daughter.” He grabbed Thayne’s arm. “It’s really important.”
Thayne removed the man’s arm. “For right now, you need coffee. Do I make myself clear?”
“Coffee? Why?”
He pushed his visitor into his office. “You’ve been drinking, Mr. Andrews.”
“I feel odd.” Philip’s words slurred, and he slumped into the chair.
“Booze’ll do that to you,” Thayne said. “How much have you had today?”
Philip’s eyes widened. “I don’t drink.”
“Really? You want to blow into my Breathalyzer? Because your cologne has the aroma of high-quality vodka.”
Philip stretched out his hand. It shook. “I don’t understand. I don’t drink. I just got my two-year chip.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a bronze medallion.
“Sir, no one’s judging you. It happens. People fall off the wagon.”
“I had a late lunch at the diner in town. Ended up talking to a guy. I had to work up the courage to come here . . . But I didn’t have anything to drink.”
Sure he didn’t. Drunks lied all the time. Alicia tapped on the door with a pot of coffee and two mugs. Thayne rose and poured Philip a cup.
“I have to speak to my daughter,” he choked. “I need to tell her . . . I’m sorry. For everything.”
Riley rolled over onto her side and peered at the afternoon light flowing into Thayne’s childhood bedroom at Blackwood Ranch. The light illuminated the white curtains in a way that made them glow a pretty golden hue. Her head no longer had a marching-band drummer beating on it from the inside.
She pushed herself up. She couldn’t remember ever sleeping so hard. Of course, she’d never almost been gassed to death, either.
With a bit of hesitation, she sat up, her movements slow and steady. Nausea gone. She was still tired, but most of her symptoms had dissipated since morning. She padded to the bathroom, threw some water on her face, and ran a brush through her hair.
She crossed the room and lifted the curtain to peer outside. Still a couple of hours of daylight left. She searched around Thayne’s room, past a wall full of trophies scattered on his bookcase and his official military photo, but not much else. These were things a mother would keep.
Except Kim Jordan hadn’t kept anything from her previous life but a small box of photos. And thank God she had. Riley’s gaze landed on her computer bag, and she wondered if Tom had deleted her access to the database.
Riley hated inconsistencies, and the Jordans’ wedding rings bothered her. She remembered a murder-suicide case where the dead couple’s grown son had insisted the wedding rings found on his parents weren’t their originals. They’d been switched. That was too much of a coincidence to ignore. She pulled out her computer, and with a quick press of the power button, the machine booted up. She logged in and smiled when the FBI search-screen window appeared.
It was like finding the entrance into a secret world.
From the FBI’s databases, she’d reviewed as many files as possible, trying to find Madison.
She’d read every child-abduction case before and after Madison’s kidnapping, but as the years had gone on, she’d focused on the cases that had unique identifiers. Research had made her a student of killers’ signatures.
Someone out there liked collecting wedding rings.
She tapped in a few criteria in the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program search engine, and it spit out nearly a hundred cases. Too many to review in their entirety, but Riley had to start somewhere. She read through the first file. Burglary. No murder. Second file. Husband murdered. Wife left alive. No wedding rings found. The perpetrator was identified and confessed and recently died in jail. She went through the third file. Fourth file. Fifth file. The filter needed refinement.
After fine-tuning the search criteria for how the victims had died, Riley viewed a much shorter list. She clicked on a ten-year-old cold case with similarities to the Jordan case. Wedding rings missing, as evidenced by the tan lines on both the husband’s and the wife’s left hands. Bodies found in the living room, posed holding hands. The scene was clean of prints. Case still open, but stalled.
She clicked on several more files and found another case a year after the first one. Debate over whether it was a murder or a murder-suicide. Family
and friends adamant neither would have harmed the other, but no clues pointed to a perpetrator. Bodies found in the living room. Holding hands. This time, the family claimed the wedding rings had been stolen and replaced. “This is more like it.”
She skimmed a dozen more files, but nothing else fit. The ViCAP database was specifically for unsolved violent crimes. She sat back and thought through what she’d read. There was a precedent for unsolved cases where wedding rings were taken. The first one was clearly a double murder. The second leaned more toward murder-suicide, though the family didn’t agree. Everything seemed to match up to a point.
Riley dug into her satchel and pulled out the photo of Aaron and Kim on their burned-out bed. She squinted at their hands. It was a mess of soot and ash, but . . . Were they touching? It looked like they were.
The hair on the back of Riley’s neck stood on end. “You slippery son of a—” She picked up the phone and called Thayne’s number. If she was right, this changed everything.
“Our perp is a serial killer.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Today couldn’t end quickly enough for Thayne. He’d almost lost Riley, the Jordan case had knotted into a giant cluster, and his conflicting reactions to the latest visitor to Singing River didn’t bode well. He closed the door to the drunk tank and let out a frustrated sigh.
“You should’ve let him sleep in his car or something,” Alicia muttered with a frown.
“He’s not getting behind the wheel of a car, and Fannie won’t let him in her B and B. There’s no other place to stay in town. I sure as hell don’t want him near the hospital or Chloe.”
His dispatcher packed up her purse. “You won’t let him take that girl, will you?”
“I’ve ordered a paternity test, and I’ve let child services know he’s a habitual abuser as well as an alcoholic. After that, it’ll be in the hands of a judge.”
He hated that he couldn’t promise anything more. “I’m doing everything I can to keep Chloe safe, but if he’s her father and if the courts say he can have her . . . there are some things even we can’t control, no matter how hard we try.” Maybe he’d suggest Cheyenne not tell anyone she believed Chloe was no longer unconscious. It could buy them some time.
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