by Blake Pierce
Maddox brought up a photo on his cell phone and showed it to Riley.
Riley felt a tingle of excitement as she studied the face for a moment. It showed Shane Hatcher walking down a street, apparently oblivious to the fact that he had been spotted.
There was no question in Riley’s mind that it was really him.
That face, his expression, the way he carried himself—it was all imprinted on her mind.
She could never confuse him with anybody else.
Maddox explained, “The cop called the FBI right away, and the teams in the vans drove straight to the area where he’d been spotted. You know, they’ve got a load of high-tech equipment to help pin him down.”
Carney added, “They’re pretty sure they’ve tracked him to an upscale apartment building near where he was sighted. They think he’s probably got some associates in there. The vans are posted nearby, and the teams are conducting surveillance to find out what kind of danger he and his people might present. They don’t want to charge right in and put innocent people in danger.”
Maddox said, “One way or the other, they’ll catch him for sure.”
Riley could hardly believe her ears. It seemed almost too good to be true.
Carney said, “The feds stationed us here to keep an eye on your place. You know, just in case some of Hatcher’s accomplices show up here. Sounds pretty unlikely, if you ask me.”
It sounded pretty unlikely to Riley as well.
And if what the guys were saying was true, a couple of cops in an unmarked car ought to be more than enough to watch over her house now that Shane Hatcher was elsewhere.
Riley thanked the cops and walked back toward her house. She looked at her watch again and figured she had enough time to clean up a bit and put on some fresh clothes.
On her way back inside, she tried to get her head around what seemed to be going on.
Now that she thought about it, it made more and more sense.
She went upstairs and opened her closet to pick out a fresh blouse. But then she noticed a small box on the closet shelf.
It looked all too familiar.
And it shouldn’t have been there.
She reached up and took hold of the box. It was too heavy to be empty. She took the box down and stared at it for a moment.
Then she opened it.
Inside was a bulky envelope with her name written on it. She took hold of the envelope and let the box fall to the floor.
Now she realized she was breathing fast.
She opened the envelope, and there it was, folded in a sheet of paper …
… a chain-link bracelet made of gold, with a fancy clasp.
Riley felt dizzy now.
This is impossible, she thought.
She wondered if she was dreaming.
The chain had been a gift from Shane Hatcher—a symbol of her bond with him.
He wore one just like it.
She’d worn this one, too, when she’d been fully under Hatcher’s grim thrall.
But she knew for a fact that she’d thrown it away not long ago—thrown it into the trash.
Its presence here again could only mean one thing.
Hatcher had been watching her closely. And he had been here in the short time since she’d gone to Iowa—right here in her house in spite of the FBI vans outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
As she held the gold chain in her hand, Riley felt her knees become wobbly. Sheer terror surged through her body. She staggered over to her bed and sat down.
As the sensation of fear ebbed, she recognized the feeling of violation she’d experienced before when her home had been invaded. She’d thought that it couldn’t happen this time.
She’d been wrong.
But how on earth had Hatcher made it past the crack teams in the two vans and actually had gotten into her house?
She reminded herself that she mustn’t underestimate him. He had brilliant and uncanny skills in every area of criminality. He was as well-equipped as any military assassin.
She should have realized that he would be able to creep through a respectable neighborhood unnoticed despite the FBI’s high-tech precautions.
Then a horrible new realization crept over her.
Not only had Hatcher come here to put the chain in the box in the closet—but he had known that she used to keep it in that very box in that very place.
He’d been here before in the past—perhaps many times.
Had he even stood watching over her when she’d been sleeping?
What about the other people in the house—the kids and Gabriela? Had he spied on them?
Riley shuddered at the very idea.
Should she officially report what had happened? Riley let out a groan of despair.
And tell them what? she asked herself.
The bracelet was a relic of a forbidden and illegal relationship. She’d never told a single soul about it, and knew that she never could.
Besides, she wasn’t even supposed to be here in Fredericksburg. She was supposed to be back in Iowa doing her job.
She studied the chain for a moment and saw a familiar tiny inscription on one of its links.
“face8ecaf”
She’d long since solved the riddle of that inscription. It meant “face to face,” and it was suggestive of a mirror—the mirror that Hatcher considered himself to be toward Riley, a personification of her darkest impulses.
The inscription was also a video address she’d used in the past to get in touch with Hatcher.
Could she reach him now?
Should she even try?
She didn’t stop to think about it.
She moved over to her desk chair and turned on her computer. She opened the video chat program, and typed in the characters.
She let the call ring for quite some time, but nobody answered.
She wasn’t surprised. She knew from experience that Hatcher couldn’t be reached if he didn’t want to be reached.
Then she looked at the piece of paper that had been folded around the chain. She carefully flattened it out on her desk.
On it was written …
Au revoir, Riley Paige
Like most of Hatcher’s messages, it was surely a riddle of some sort.
What did this one mean?
She knew that au revoir was a way of saying goodbye in French.
The meaning seemed obvious—perhaps even too obvious.
He was returning the chain to her as a sort of farewell gift.
He’s going away, Riley thought.
But where and how?
Things were starting to make sense to her. Hatcher had gone to Norfolk, which had multiple highways, bus lines, and Amtrak. It had a large naval base with miles of waterfront. It was also a commercial shipping port and had an international airport.
Norfolk offered a vast range of possibilities for getting away—even for leaving the country.
And that must be what Hatcher intended to do.
Or at least that had been his intention until he’d been spotted in Norfolk.
But now what was going to happen? She reminded herself again that it was out of her hands.
Riley’s phone suddenly buzzed. She saw that Jenn was calling.
When she answered, Jenn’s voice sounded agitated.
“Riley, I just got a call from Chief Sinard. He says another girl has gone missing. I’m headed right down to the station to meet him.”
Riley heard Jenn emit a discouraged sigh.
“I’m sorry, Riley, but I don’t see how I can keep covering for you. I told Chief Sinard that you were over in a town called Hammett interviewing a registered sex offender. But he’s expecting you back soon. What do you want me to tell him?”
Riley was still so shaken by her discovery that it took a moment for her to grasp what Jenn was saying. Once she did, she felt guilty that Jenn had had to lie for her.
But what was she going to do now that she knew Hatcher had been in her house?
> Could she really leave at a time like this?
She reminded herself that Hatcher was in Norfolk right now, and he would surely be arrested at any moment.
Her family was safer from him than they’d been for a while now.
Finally Riley said, “Tell Sinard I’ll be there as soon as I can get there. For what it’s worth, that’s actually true. I’m on my way to an airport to catch a flight back to Des Moines.”
“I wish I could pick you up at the airport but—”
Riley interrupted.
“It’s all right, I know you can’t get away. I’ll rent a car at the airport and drive back to Angier. I’ll call you when I get there so you can tell me where I should meet you.”
They ended the call.
Riley got up from her chair and looked around the room, again seized by the sickening awareness that Hatcher had intruded here.
She shook herself all over, trying to throw off that feeling.
But it wasn’t easy to do.
Hatcher had more than proved his stealth and cunning by getting into her house.
Mightn’t he slip out of the trap the FBI had set for him in Norfolk?
She looked again at the message he had written for her.
Au revoir, Riley Paige
And she reminded herself that he was planning to go away.
Even if he escaped from the FBI, he’d soon be gone.
She tossed the bracelet and the note back into the shoebox, put it into a desk drawer, and locked it.
As she did, so she murmured aloud …
“Au revoir, Shane Hatcher.”
Then she headed downstairs to tell her family that she was leaving again.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
As soon as Riley got off the plane in Des Moines, her phone buzzed. Her heart quickened when she saw that the call was from Bill. She answered the phone as she walked toward the car rental booths.
Bill sounded worried.
“Riley, something’s wrong. When I left Mike’s clinic, the first thing I did was head over to your house. I’m here right now. The FBI vans are gone. There’s just this unmarked police car parked out front—”
“It’s OK, Bill. Craig Huang and the rest of the team took the vans down to Norfolk. They’ve got Shane Hatcher cornered in an apartment building there.”
She heard Bill gasp a little.
“Are they sure?” he asked.
“Yeah, they’re sure. And there’s no way for him to get away. For all I know, they’ve got him in custody already.”
Bill fell silent for a moment.
Finally he said, “Shane Hatcher—captured at last. It’s hard to believe.”
“I know,” Riley said. “I feel that way too.”
She walked a few feet without saying anything. She wondered—should she tell Bill that Hatcher had been in her house?
No, there didn’t seem to be any point in that.
Even so …
She added cautiously, “Bill, could you keep driving by my place and checking on things from time to time? I don’t know why, but it would make me feel better. And would you also check in to see how the stakeout is going in Norfolk?”
“Of course. It’s the least I can do. Any news on the case in Iowa?”
“Yeah, but it’s nothing good. Another girl has disappeared. That’s all I know right now. I should find out more soon.”
Riley hesitated, then added, “Bill, I wish you were here. This case is getting to me in a way I can’t put my finger on. For one thing, this little town gives me the creeps.”
Bill said, “Don’t tell me—everything’s just too perfect.”
“Yeah, everything’s all picket fences, nice lawns, perfect houses. But as soon as Jenn and I peek behind the façade, we find rot everywhere—predatory drug dealers, creepy school principals, sadistic piano teachers. Practically everybody seems like a suspect. We don’t know where to begin.”
“Follow your gut, Riley. Your instincts won’t steer you wrong.”
Riley let out a snort of discouraged laughter.
“My instincts aren’t exactly clicking this time around.”
“They will. Just remember—whatever seems too perfect usually is. Keep looking behind those façades. You’ll find what you’re looking for.”
Riley felt a lump in her throat.
She knew that Bill was telling her exactly what she needed to hear.
She said, “Bill, thank you for …”
She couldn’t find the words for all that she felt grateful for.
“Just everything,” she said.
Bill didn’t reply right away. When he did, his voice sounded huskier.
“Riley, after all that you’ve done for me in the last few days—”
Riley interrupted.
“Don’t give it another thought, Bill. Just get better so we can work together again. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
They ended the call just as Riley arrived at the car rental booth. She rented a car, and when she got into it she punched in Jenn’s number on her cell phone. She put the call on speakerphone, and she and Jenn talked as she drove away from the airport.
Jenn filled her in on the new missing girl.
“Her name is Camryn Mays, and she’s older than the others—twenty-one years old. She’s in her second year at the local community college.”
“Does she live with her family?” Riley asked.
“No, she’s got an apartment of her own, not even a roommate. So nobody noticed she was missing right away. She works at a local restaurant, Vern’s Café. That’s where I am right now, with Chief Sinard and his people. We’ve been interviewing everybody here. She missed her shift yesterday, but nobody thought anything of it. When she didn’t show up today, her boss started to get worried.”
Riley mulled over what she was hearing.
It was, of course, possible that Camryn Mays had wandered off for reasons of her own. But after what had happened to Katy Philbin and Holly Struthers, Riley knew better than to make that assumption.
She just hoped they could get to Camryn while she was still alive.
Riley asked Jenn, “Do you want me to join you at the restaurant?”
“No, we’ll wrap things up here pretty soon. In a little while we’re headed to the girl’s apartment. That’s where you should probably meet us. I’ll give you the address.”
After Jenn read Riley the address, Riley said, “Jenn, I’m really sorry … for putting you on the spot like I did.”
Jenn was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “Just get here as soon as you can, OK?”
“I’m driving right now,” Riley said.
When they ended the call, Riley wondered whether Jenn now had regrets about agreeing to cover for her. She hoped not. But she knew she couldn’t blame Jenn if she did.
*
Riley followed GPS directions to Camryn Mays’s apartment building. When she parked outside, she saw that the car that she and Jenn had been driving was already there, and so was Chief Sinard’s official SUV.
The red brick apartment building had a sign and a name—Monterrey Apartments. Riley knew better than to assume the name suggested quality or class. After all, she knew that the girl worked in a restaurant and didn’t have a roommate.
During Riley’s own college days, she’d lived in a similar building called the Devonshire, but her apartment had been anything but large or glamorous. She knew that some landlords had a peculiar way of giving apartment buildings pretentious names for no good reason.
In fact, as she approached the place, she saw that it was in something of a state of disrepair. The sidewalk was badly cracked, and the lawn wasn’t especially well kept. She peeked through a tall wooden fence and saw an empty swimming pool full of leaves and rubbish.
Riley went into the building and found the right apartment on the second floor. She knocked on the door, and Chief Sinard let her in.
“Did you have any luck in Hammett?” Sin
ard asked.
Riley was puzzled for a moment.
Then she remembered—Jenn had told the chief that Riley was interviewing a registered sex offender in a town called Hammett.
“I’m afraid not,” she said, walking on inside.
She hoped Sinard wouldn’t ask for details.
Jenn was already here, as Riley had expected. So were Laird and Doty, the local cops who had met Riley and Jenn at the airport. Everybody was hard at work, poring over the place carefully. Jenn glanced up from her own task, visibly relieved that Riley was finally here.
Riley glanced around. There wasn’t much to see. With five people in it, the tiny place was pretty crowded. The apartment was startlingly like the no-frills place she remembered from her own college days. A small front room doubled as a living area and a kitchen, with some cheap furniture and a stove and refrigerator. There was an open door to one side. Riley saw that it led into a tiny bedroom with an adjoining bathroom.
But it was different from Riley’s old apartment in one significant way.
Like many college students, Riley had been a slob, leaving clothes and kitchen utensils and empty wrappers all over the place, and never doing any cleaning to speak of. The young woman who lived here was anything but a slob.
Everything was neat, clean, organized, and sparse. There was a laptop computer on a Formica-topped table. Some textbooks were carefully lined up between bookends on a small table. But despite all the neatness, there were no decorations anywhere—no framed pictures or trinkets of any kind. There wasn’t even a TV.
Riley breathed slowly, taking in a vaguely familiar smell. It was partly the decay of a rather poorly maintained apartment.
But there was also a feeling in the air that she dimly recognized. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was—at least not yet.
She turned to Sinard and said, “Tell me about the missing girl.”
Sinard pulled up the young woman’s photo on his cell phone. She was a smiling, eager-looking young African-American.
Sinard said, “Camryn Mays has been finishing up her second year at Angier Community College. She graduated two years ago from Wilson High.”
Riley nodded and said, “The same school that Katy Philbin went to. Do we know of any connections between the two girls?”
