by Blake Pierce
Actually, Riley felt pretty sure that another argument was all but inevitable. But she wanted to put it off for as long as she could—maybe until something positive happened with the case that made their differences seem less significant.
Their visit to Brattledale had been surprisingly short. After their brief conversation with Hannah Booker, Crivaro and Riley had driven Sheriff Cole back to his police station. On the way there, Crivaro had asked Cole what he had done by way of investigating Natalie’s death.
From what he’d said, it was obvious that Cole had done a fine job, especially in his interviews. It sounded as though he’d talked to almost everybody in the small town and asked all the right questions. There didn’t seem to be any loose ends for the agents to tie up in Brattledale.
With nothing left to do there, Crivaro had decided that he and Riley should head back to Dalhart to reorient themselves and look for some new strategy to deal with this increasingly frustrating case. But Riley wasn’t sure how they were going to exchange productive ideas, so she just leaned back in the car seat and kept quiet for the rest of the short drive.
When they got back to the police station in Dalhart, they met with Sheriff Quayle in a small conference room. As Crivaro filled Quayle in on their visit to Magdalene High School, he said something that startled Riley.
“We don’t think the nun’s disappearance is at all related to the two murders.”
Riley could barely keep her mouth from dropping open.
“We?” she thought.
It felt like a slap in the face. Why couldn’t Crivaro at least acknowledge that his partner didn’t share this belief?
Again, Riley managed to keep quiet to avoid starting an argument right then. But Crivaro kept right on assuring Quayle that the young woman had simply wanted to get away from cloistered life, and that she’d turn up on her own somewhere sooner or later.
If Crivaro noticed Riley’s dismay, he didn’t show it. He just changed the subject to their visit to Brattledale and what little they’d been able to find out there.
“So what do we do now?” Quayle asked after Crivaro finished briefing him on the day’s activities so far.
“Keep looking for a connection between the two murders we know about,” Crivaro said. “And look for any related cases.”
Quayle shrugged and said irritably, “We’ve done a lot of homework, and as far as I know, there aren’t any related cases.”
Crivaro replied calmly, “I know, but let’s take a fresh start digging through records.”
Together Crivaro and Quayle did a computer search of all the recent homicides in the relevant area of Tennessee and Kentucky. Riley could do little but sit and listen and watch. She couldn’t help feeling that Crivaro was deliberately excluding her.
Predictably, Crivaro and Quayle found that most of the homicides were concentrated in larger cities, and there were only a handful in small towns and rural areas. None of them bore any resemblance to the murders of Natalie Booker or Kimberly Dent.
For good measure, Crivaro asked Quayle to show him records of older homicide cases dating back some ten years. Quayle fetched a folder full of reports, and he and Crivaro went through them carefully. A few homicides showed up in that area. A few of those were by what was termed “asphyxiation by ligature”—or strangulation.
“These stats aren’t surprising,” Crivaro explained to Quayle. “Strangulation is the fourth most common method of homicide, after beating, stabbing, and shooting. Shooting, of course, tops the list.”
“But these old strangulation cases were all solved,” Quayle said. “Every one of them. The killers were sent to prison. I don’t see how there could be any connection between any of them and our recent murders.”
“I don’t either,” Crivaro said. “But there’s a possibility we’ve got to consider. It’s not likely, but we can’t ignore it.”
“And what’s that?” Quayle said.
Crivaro drummed his fingers on the table for a moment.
Then he said, “Because strangulation is so common, it’s just possible that the two girls were murdered by different people.”
Quayle’s eyes widened with alarm.
“How could that be?” he asked. “The MO is the same in both cases—abduction followed by strangulation. Also, look at how the bodies were left out in the open. They were even laid out in an identical manner. Are you suggesting some kind of team or partnership or … ?”
“What I’m talking about is more like a copycat,” Crivaro said. “Details about murders leak out. It happens all the time. Someone here in Dalhart might have learned most of the details of Natalie Booker’s killing in Brattledale—someone who had a personal grudge against Kimberly Dent and wanted her dead. He might have used the other killer’s MO to cover his tracks.”
Crivaro went on to cite some actual cases of this sort, including a couple of cases he’d actually worked on. Riley felt sure that even Crivaro didn’t think this was really a likely scenario. But she also knew he was right to consider it, especially since if there were two separate cases this wouldn’t be a matter for the FBI, much less for BAU.
Meanwhile, neither man was asking her opinion. Feeling excluded, Riley turned her thoughts back to her own observations about the interviews.
Hannah Booker had said to them about her murdered daughter,
“God took her away while she was still good.”
And, “She’s in heaven now.”
Riley felt a tingle of mounting intuition as other memories came back to her.
She remembered Sister Agnes stating her opinion that Sister Sandra’s faith was “increasing with time.”
She also remembered the solemn sight of Kimberly Dent’s parents standing with bowed heads in front of the cross-shaped shrine that bore their daughter’s name.
And now something else Hannah said echoed through Riley’s mind.
“Natalie always went to church and did what was right.”
Suddenly, something seemed clear to her.
Crivaro and Quayle were still in mid-conversation, but Riley interrupted anyway.
“Sheriff Quayle, did Kimberly go to church?”
Sheriff Quayle looked startled, but Riley felt as though she already knew the answer.
“Well, yeah,” Quayle said. “The Dent family goes to the same Methodist church that I attend with my own family, right here in Dalhart.”
Riley looked back and forth at Crivaro and Quayle. Both men were staring at her, but she thought Crivaro looked impatient.
She hesitated for a moment, then she blurted, “It’s about religion.”
Quayle squinted and asked, “What’s about religion?”
“The murders,” Riley said. “Religion is the thing that links them all together.”
Ignored a silent frown of warning from Crivaro, Riley continued, “Hannah Booker told us that her daughter went to church. If she was anything like her mother, she was pretty deeply religious. And then there was Sister Sandra at Magdalene High School …”
It was Quayle’s turn to interrupt Riley now.
“Wait just a minute, Agent Sweeney. I thought that her disappearance had nothing to do with the two murder cases.”
Riley’s spirits sank as she remembered what Crivaro had told him before.
“We don’t think the nun’s disappearance is at all related to the two murders.”
And now she could see Crivaro’s face redden with anger.
“My partner misspoke,” he said, glaring at Riley.
A tense silence fell over the room, and Crivaro kept his gaze locked with Riley’s.
Finally Crivaro said to Quayle, “I think my partner and I need to adjourn for the day. We’ve got some things we need to talk about one-on-one.”
Looking surprised at the suddenness of this decision, Quayle nodded silently. Riley got up and followed Crivaro out of the room and the police station, dreading whatever was about to happen next.
*
Jake was seething as he
and Riley walked out to their parked car. He could hardly believe how Riley had blindsided him just now.
Riley said to him, “Agent Crivaro, I’m sorry I brought it up that way, but I really do think—”
“No, you didn’t think,” Jake interrupted her. “That’s the problem.”
After they climbed into the car, Jake noticed that it was already getting dark outside. He looked at his watch and said in a tense voice, “It’s getting late. We’d better get something to eat. There’s a diner right next to our motel.”
As he drove to the motel, Jake maintained a grim silence. He was relieved that Riley just sat there without saying another word. There was a lot to say, of course, but Jake didn’t want to get started until he felt sure he could keep his temper under control. After he parked the car, he got out and went into the diner without more than a glance at his young partner. She followed him and they sat down and ordered their sandwiches.
As they waited for their meals, Jake leaned across the table and spoke to Riley in a voice that shook with anger.
“Don’t you ever contradict me again in the presence of local law enforcement. For that matter, don’t ever contradict me in front of anybody. I’m your senior partner. Show me some respect.”
Her face flushed red with emotion, Riley fingered the rim of her water glass.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect—sir,” she said.
“Well, it sure as hell sounded like you did,” Jake said. “And now Sheriff Quayle knows we’re at odds. What do you think that’s going to do to his confidence in us? He doesn’t think much of us Feds as it is.”
“I apologize,” Riley said in a tense voice.
Jake didn’t reply.
She doesn’t sound like she means it, Jake thought.
There was a lot more to be said, but he hardly knew where to begin. He and Riley sat staring at the table until their sandwiches came.
Then Riley spoke up, “I still think we should talk about what I started saying back there.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Jake said, taking a bite of his sandwich.
Riley’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Well, I’m going to tell you, anyway,” she said.
Jake’s eyes widened with surprise at the sudden sharpness in Riley’s voice.
She said, “I think you’re wrong about Sister Sandra. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be our killer’s next victim, if she isn’t already. And that’s because there is a link between her and Natalie and Kimberly. They were all religious. Sandra’s preparing to be a nun, and the other girls were serious churchgoers.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?” Jake asked.
“It means the killer has some kind of issue with religion,” Riley said.
Jake scoffed.
“Come on, Riley. There’s a reason they call these parts the Bible belt. Practically everybody around here is religious and goes to church. If our killer is really that obsessed with religion, why doesn’t he set off a bomb in one of these towns? Why doesn’t he kill as many people as he possibly can? What makes these girls so special?”
Riley didn’t reply. She just poked at her sandwich with her fork.
Jake took another bite of his own sandwich, then said, “Your theory doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s not a theory—yet,” Riley said. “It’s more like a hunch, and I’m still trying to understand it myself.”
“Well, let me know when you do understand it,” Jake said. “Meanwhile, don’t go making a mess of things when we’re trying to work with local law enforcement. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
Again, Riley didn’t reply.
As they kept eating in silence, Jake knew perfectly well that nothing was resolved between them—and also that they weren’t dealing with Riley’s real, underlying problem.
It’s time to clear the air, he thought.
He said, “Riley, I’ve asked you more than once now. Are you sure you’re up to working on this case?”
“Of course I am,” Riley said.
“I’m not so sure of that,” Jake said. “You’re obsessing in a non-productive way. And I don’t think you even know why you’re obsessing.”
Riley grunted sarcastically.
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” she said.
Jake pushed what remained of his sandwich aside.
He said, “Riley, you’re just not dealing with what happened a couple of days ago.”
Riley glared at him.
“You mean with killing somebody?” she said.
“That’s exactly what I mean. And I’m starting to think that this whole case is a diversion, a way of avoiding the unavoidable. And now you’re hatching ridiculous theories to avoid it. You’re trying to think about anything else except the fact that you took a human life.”
Riley’s face twitched with anger.
“You’re not a mind reader, Agent Crivaro,” she said.
“No, but I’m a pretty damn good profiler,” Jake said. “I’m good at reading people—and not just criminals. I know from personal experience what it’s like when an agent’s judgment is impaired.”
Riley pushed her own sandwich aside.
“My judgment’s just fine,” she said. “And I’m telling you, I’m all but sure that Sister Sandra has been abducted. If she’s still alive, the clock is ticking before she winds up dead too—nicely posed by a road, just like Natalie and Kimberly.”
Jake and Riley sat glaring at each other for a long moment.
Then Riley said, “We need to go back to Magdalene High School. Right now.”
“Why?” Jake said.
“I don’t know. I just feel like we missed something when we were there earlier.”
Jake reached in his pocket, took out the keys to their borrowed car, and slid them across the table to Riley.
“Go ahead, knock yourself out,” he said.
“You’re not going with me?” Riley said.
“Nope. You’re on your own.”
Riley seemed to waver for a moment. Then, without another word, she defiantly picked up the keys and walked out of the diner. Jake sat watching through the window as Riley got into the car and drove away.
He felt momentarily relieved to have her gone.
Now maybe I can hear myself think.
And right now, thinking was exactly what he needed to do. He could walk over to the motel, shut himself up in his room, and collect his thoughts. In the past, some of his best ideas had come to him while sitting alone in a motel room.
And a good night’s sleep wouldn’t hurt, he thought.
Jake paid the bill for their sandwiches and left the diner. When he felt the cold night air on his face, he was suddenly seized by a spasm of self-doubt.
What if she’s right? he thought.
And what if I’m wrong?
He also wondered if maybe he’d come down too hard on Riley about her judgment. He reminded himself that he’d been doubting his own judgment lately. Was it possible that he was just projecting his own insecurities onto her?
Don’t overanalyze, he scolded himself as he opened the door to his room and went on inside.
After all, the worst that could happen was that Riley would be right, that she’d come back from Magdalene High School with all kinds of valuable information and insights.
I can live with that, he thought, stretching out on the bed.
Swallowing his pride would be a small price to pay to solve this case.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As Riley drove toward Boneau, her mind kept replaying Crivaro’s words.
“Go ahead, knock yourself out,” he’d growled as he slid the car keys across the table to her.
Obviously, he’d thought she was wasting her time heading back to Magdalene High School, and he didn’t want to waste his own time as well. She still felt angry—but more with herself than with Crivaro. Something else he’d said also echoed in her mind.
“I’m starting to thi
nk that this whole case is a diversion, a way of avoiding the unavoidable.”
Those were the words that had left her feeling defensive. After all, she’d barely given a moment’s thought to Heidi Wright’s death all day long. But Riley knew perfectly well that didn’t mean it wasn’t troubling her. Staying busy on the case kept the memory just beneath the surface of her thoughts, delaying what was surely an inevitable moment of reckoning.
She sighed, wondering if maybe she’d needed to hear exactly what Crivaro had said. She knew there was also another issue she was trying to suppress.
Ryan.
She remembered Ryan’s words when she’d called him on the phone to say she was taking this case.
“You decided this without even talking to me.”
She couldn’t blame him for being angry and hurt, especially because she’d spoiled the lovely romantic evening he’d planned for them—an evening she knew perfectly well they both needed.
Worse still, they hadn’t spoken since that phone call yesterday morning. And she knew that was more her own fault than his.
I need to call him, she thought.
But what was she supposed to say? That she was sorry she’d rushed off to work on a case? Would that even be an honest thing to say? The truth was, she was doing exactly what she wanted to be doing. And maybe that meant that her work really was more important than her relationship with Ryan.
If so, what kind of person did that make her?
She remembered something else Ryan had said to her the night before last.
“What kind of job is it that makes you feel so terrible about yourself? Is this really what you want to do with your life?”
She had to admit that those were important questions—and also that part of her dreaded finding out the answers. For nearly a year now, since the first murders and investigations when she was still in college, Riley’s life had been moving very fast. She had found it easier to put off thinking about some difficult issues, sure that she would catch up later …
