Waiting (The Making of Riley Paige—Book 2)

by Blake Pierce

“Then the police came to our door the next morning—with her photo ID …”

  He fell silent.

  Indicating Riley, Crivaro said to him, “Would it be all right for our young intern here to have a look around your place?”

  Lewis nodded.

  For a moment, Riley wondered …

  What does Crivaro want me to do?

  Did he expect her to look for something specific? Or was he just trying to get her out of the way?

  She wished she had some idea.

  Riley got up from her chair and walked on into the little house. She looked inside a spotless, charmingly decorated kitchen. Then she stopped in the hallway outside the door to the parents’ bedroom. She could still hear Roberta Birch sobbing in there.

  Should I go in and talk to her?

  She shuddered as she remembered her painful encounter with Janet Davis’s husband.

  She didn’t think she could do anything like that right now.

  And besides, it surely wasn’t what Crivaro had in mind for her to do.

  But what did he want her to do?

  As she stood indecisively in the hall, she could hear Crivaro asking Lewis whether he knew of any connection between his daughter and the other victim. Riley turned toward a door on the opposite side of the hall and opened it.

  It led into what was obviously Margo’s bedroom. It was small and cozy, like everything else in the house. Riley felt a tightness in her throat as she remembered what Roberta had said through her tears …

  “She was our only child. She was all we had.”

  This was definitely the bedroom of an only child—not spoiled, but deeply treasured by her parents, and well-liked by everyone she knew. Most of all, Riley could tell that Margo had been happy here.

  The walls were hung with countless framed pictures of her at every age since she’d been a toddler—photos taken with friends, relatives, and most of all, with her parents.

  The shelves were filled with a young lifetime of books, ranging from picture books and early readers to grown-up novels. It didn’t look like Margo had ever thrown away a book in her life.

  Every piece of furniture was piled high with memorabilia—figurines, diplomas, awards, and souvenirs from all kinds of family vacations. And there must have been dozens of plush animals—bunnies, sheep, giraffes, tigers, and more teddy bears than Riley could count. Crowded among the animals on a chest of drawers was a yellow rubber duck, the kind of toy a toddler might play with in a bathtub.

  Riley felt a strange new emotion as she moved through the room, taking everything in. She couldn’t put her finger on what the feeling was.

  Envy? she wondered.

  How could she possibly envy a young woman who had been brutally murdered?

  And yet Riley couldn’t help but realize—she’d never had a bedroom like this in her own difficult life. Wouldn’t it have been wonderful to have a refuge like this, a place to escape life’s troubles and anxieties?

  And wouldn’t it have been wonderful to have such unconditionally loving parents, so many close friends, so many joys and comforts?

  But Riley shuddered deeply as she thought of Margo’s fate—forcibly abducted, grotesquely dressed and made up, her mind and heart racing uncontrollably on amphetamines, and finally literally frightened to death.

  All the love and protection Margo had received during her life had made no difference in the end.

  It seemed heartbreakingly, cruelly unfair, and Riley found herself wondering …

  Is no one really safe?

  Riley tried to shake off her sickening horror. She reminded herself that she had work to do—although she still didn’t understand exactly what it was.

  She looked around and noticed that the blind was drawn over the room’s one window.

  She walked over to the window and raised the blind.

  She found herself looking out over a small, perfectly kept backyard. Twilight was falling, but she could still see everything clearly. In the middle of the yard stood a sturdy old tree. A swing hung from one of its branches.

  The swing had surely been there for many years, for as long as Margo had been big enough to enjoy it.

  Riley felt strangely drawn to that swing. She decided to go out and look at it more closely.

  She went back into the hallway and overheard Crivaro asking Lewis Birch whether Margo had mentioned any unpleasant or alarming encounters recently. Riley could tell from Crivaro’s slightly tired, discouraged tone of voice that the interview wasn’t proving to be very helpful.

  Riley also noticed that the sobbing in the other bedroom had stopped. Perhaps Roberta Birch had cried herself to sleep.

  Riley walked through the kitchen and found the back door.

  As she reached for the doorknob, she briefly wondered …

  Should I ask if it’s OK for me to go out there?

  She remembered Crivaro clearly asking Lewis Birch …

  “Would it be all right for our young intern here to have a look around your place?”

  Surely “your place” included the backyard.

  Riley turned the doorknob and went outside.

  The backyard was startlingly pleasant—the air fresh and cool, the entire neighborhood quiet.

  It looked like a perfect place for a child to play with neighbor friends. Riley wondered—how often had Margo continued to come out here, even after she’d grown to be a young woman?

  She walked across the lawn to the swing and looked down at the ground under it.

  Sure enough, the soil was bare and grassless, and she could see fresh heel marks.

  Margo had never stopped sitting on this swing. She had doubtless spent many happy hours here, reminiscing about wonderful times.

  Riley was feeling an impulse to sit down on the swing herself when her eye was drawn between some bushes in back of the yard. Beyond them, Riley could see between two houses all the way to the next street.

  And for a moment, Riley thought she saw somebody standing between those houses—a shadowy man who seemed to be looking directly at her.

  She quickly realized it was just her imagination.

  But still the presence lingered, and Riley felt her skin tingling all over.

  It’s happening again, she thought.

  She was getting a sense of the killer’s mind.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Riley shivered deeply even after the shadowy image had faded away. She couldn’t stop staring at the space between the two houses where she’d imagined the man to be.

  She remembered when she’d felt connected to the murderer early that morning while looking at Janet Davis’s body—the surge of cruelty and sadism she’d sensed as she’d imagined how he’d felt while killing her.

  And now it was happening again.

  No, she thought. I can’t handle it.

  She wanted to turn around and run back into the house.

  Then she remembered something Crivaro had said during the drive here …

  “There’s so damn much we don’t know. We don’t even know when or how Margo was abducted.”

  Riley gulped hard as she realized …

  Maybe I’m about to find out.

  She walked between a pair of bushes in a row that separated the Birches’ yard from the property behind it. Then she turned and took in the view the man might have had of the family’s home and backyard.

  It was all too easy to imagine.

  It had been late at night, after Margo’s parents had gone to bed.

  After she’d finished studying, Margo had come out here to do what she often did—sit alone on this swing and listen to the crickets and enjoy the cool night air, all the while reminiscing about her happy childhood, and also dreaming of possibilities to come.

  She’d been facing the house, of course …

  And he was standing near here, looking at her from behind, unnoticed.

  He hadn’t just happened to be standing there by chance.

  Riley sensed that he’d already targeted th
is young woman to be his first victim—although she had no clue to why he’d chosen her.

  He’d been stalking her for a while.

  Had she ever noticed him hovering nearby, studying her habits and movements?

  Had she been frightened of him?

  No, Riley thought.

  She’d never even known he was around.

  He’s too stealthy for that.

  He’d been stealthy enough to approach Margo right here, unawares, in her own backyard. He’d sneaked up directly behind her …

  What then?

  Riley remembered the blurred images of boats and docks from the last photo in Janet Davis’s camera, which had obviously been knocked out of her hand at that very second.

  He knocked Janet out, Riley thought.

  Maybe he did the same with Margo.

  She walked over to the swing and looked down again at the bare patch of ground under it. The soil was scraped a bit. But with her untrained eye, Riley couldn’t tell whether that indicated any sign of a struggle.

  Her sense of the killer’s presence was fading now, becoming blurred like the last photograph Janet Davis had ever taken.

  All she knew for sure was that she needed to talk to Crivaro—right now.

  She hurried back into the house and straight to the living room. Crivaro, McCune, and Lewis Birch were all seated exactly as she had left them.

  A bit breathlessly, Riley said …

  “Agent Crivaro, I—I think I’ve got something to show you.”

  Crivaro and McCune got up from their chairs and followed her out of the house. Darkness was deepening now.

  Riley pointed to the back yard swing. “I think Margo was abducted there—by a man who came between those houses.”

  McCune let out a grunt of skepticism.

  “Have you got any solid reason for thinking that?” he asked.

  Riley didn’t reply. How would McCune react if she told him the truth—that she was simply following her gut?

  Meanwhile, Crivaro crouched down beside the swing. He took a penlight out of his pocket and pointed it at the ground. After scanning the ground for a few moments, he said …

  “McCune, Sweeney—come here and have a look.”

  Riley and McCune walked over and crouched beside him.

  Crivaro shined the penlight to show them something Riley hadn’t noticed before. A stretch of grass had been dug into, as if someone had dragged something away from the swing.

  Not something, she thought. Somebody. Margo Birch.

  Crivaro looked at McCune and said, “Sweeney’s right. The girl was snatched right here.”

  Crivaro pointed toward the darkening space between the two houses.

  “He must have carried her through there to a waiting vehicle.”

  McCune’s mouth dropped open in amazement.

  Crivaro got to his feet, and so did Riley and McCune.

  Crivaro said, “McCune, I need for you to call forensics, tell them to get a team here right away to tape this place off. They’ll need to check the area and then go over it again with a fine-toothed comb in the morning.”

  McCune immediately took out his cell phone to make the call. Crivaro went inside to inform Lewis Birch that a forensics team would be arriving in a few minutes.

  McCune was still talking on the phone when Crivaro came back outside.

  He said to Riley …

  “Now I want you to talk me through exactly what you experienced just now.”

  Riley told him everything, starting with when she’d been in the bedroom and had noticed the swing through the bedroom window, then her growing sense of the killer’s presence as she came outside.

  Crivaro seemed to be deep in thought by the time she finished. He didn’t say a word to her. Riley wished he’d say something …

  “Good work” might be nice.

  Meanwhile, McCune ended his phone call and walked toward them.

  “The forensics guys will be here shortly. I’ve got some news about their search of Gregory Wertz’s apartment. They found something tucked under the refrigerator—a blueprint of a bank and some hand-scrawled notes. The man was planning an armed robbery.”

  “Holy smoke,” Crivaro said.

  “It gets better,” McCune said. “There was also a list of names and phone numbers—four names in all.”

  “Accomplices,” Crivaro said, stroking his chin. “So that’s what the five stolen monster masks were for. Wertz and his gang were going to use them for disguises for the robbery.”

  Suddenly, things started becoming clearer to Riley—things that had been puzzling her since her talk with Janet Davis’s husband and the interrogation of Gregory Wertz.

  She remembered how confident Wertz had been until that very moment when McCune had asked the question Riley herself had suggested.

  “Who did you steal the masks for?”

  Right then Wertz had become agitated and anxious.

  And for good reason.

  Until that moment, McCune had been questioning the suspect about two murders he’d known nothing about. But as soon as McCune asked that question, Wertz was afraid McCune had figured out his plans for a robbery.

  Riley also understood why Janet Davis had “laughed off” Wertz’s coarse advances.

  She hadn’t been afraid of him.

  She’d had no reason to be afraid of him.

  Or at least that was things now seemed to Riley.

  She was surprised when McCune said …

  “So Wertz is guilty after all.”

  “Maybe,” Crivaro said.

  Riley hesitated for a moment, worrying about whether she was about to ask a stupid question.

  Then she said, “I’m not sure I get it. We know that Wertz is guilty of planning a robbery. How does that make him guilty of the two murders as well?”

  McCune scowled at her and said, “We know he’s a criminal. That seriously increases the likelihood that he committed the murders. Actually, it pretty well cinches it in my book. I’m sure we didn’t stumble across him just by accident.”

  Riley was really startled now. Her instincts were telling her just the opposite of what McCune was saying.

  Was she just jumping to rookie conclusions?

  Crivaro didn’t say anything, just kept looking around the backyard.

  Riley wondered …

  Does Crivaro agree with McCune?

  She wished he’d say something.

  The forensics team soon arrived and started work as Crivaro gave them instructions. They were going to tape off the area and record anything they could see with their night-lights. A couple of team members would wait there all night until morning, making sure the area wasn’t disturbed. Tomorrow morning they could do a more thorough search.

  While the team kept working, Crivaro asked McCune and Riley …

  “Any suggestions as to what we do next?”

  McCune said, “I say we call it quits. The forensics guys can take it from here.”

  Riley tried to hold her tongue, but couldn’t help blurting …

  “Wait a minute. We haven’t been to where the first victim was found—behind the movie theater. Maybe we should check it out.”

  McCune scoffed and said, “Right now? When it’s getting dark?”

  Riley didn’t know what to say in reply.

  I guess it does sound like kind of a dumb idea, she thought.

  McCune patted the manila folder he’d been carrying and added, “Besides, I’ve got photos and information right here, taken by the local cops who examined the scene. Everything we need to know, especially now that we’ve got a surefire suspect in custody. I think we can consider the case pretty much closed as far as we’re concerned. We can move on to other things.”

  Crivaro glared at McCune and said, “Your surefire suspect isn’t talking. That means we’ve still got to find evidence to make a murder case against him. Our job isn’t done yet.”

  Crivaro paused for a moment, then said, “Let’s go to the movie thea
ter.”

  Riley and the two agents went back into the house. Lewis Birch was just staring down at his hands in his lap. Roberta Birch had come back out of the bedroom and was sitting beside her husband. She gazed up at the agents with an anguished expression.

  “From the yard?” she asked in a whisper. “He took her right from our own yard?”

  “We’re going to find out,” Crivaro said. “That’s why I have the team here.”

  He thanked the two bereaved parents for their cooperation, and the agents left.

  As Crivaro drove them back into Northwest DC, McCune flipped through the information in his folder.

  He said, “The Capri Theater is a little art house movie theater that specializes in classic movies.”

  Crivaro asked, “Does the report say what movie was playing when the body was found?”

  “Yeah,” McCune said. “Some really old flick called Freaks.”

  Crivaro let out a growl. “Jesus. I saw that when I was a kid. It gave me nightmares for weeks. It’s a 1932 horror film that was considered so horrifying it barely got released and was actually banned in some places, like in England. It’s still considered to be one of the most shocking movies ever made.”

  “What’s it about?” Riley asked from the back seat.

  Crivaro said, “Carnival freaks—you know, people with grotesque deformities and such. The freaks were played by real, authentic sideshow performers—people without limbs, bearded ladies, conjoined twins, little people, and the like. The freaks are actually the sympathetic characters—kind and honest and trusting. The ‘normal’ characters are the real villains. In the end, the freaks get their revenge on a really evil female trapeze artist and …”

  Crivaro shuddered.

  “Let me put it this way. They mutilate her, turn her into a freak herself. And it’s not pretty.”

  Riley thought for a moment. “So the second victim was found in a field where a carnival had just left. And the first victim was found behind a theater where a movie was playing about carnival performers.”

  Crivaro said, “Yeah, our killer has definitely got a theme going, with carnivals and clowns and all.”

  During the rest of the drive, Riley found herself thinking about Gregory Wertz and what had been found in his house aside from plans for a bank robbery.