Robert,” he said. “The Senator’s son. And you must be Special Agent Riley. Come on in. Mother and Father are expecting you.”
Robert Newbrough led Riley on into the house, which immediately reminded her how much she disliked ostentatious homes. The Newbrough house was especially cavernous, and the walk to wherever the Senator and his wife were waiting was disagreeably long. Riley was sure that making guests walk such an inconvenient distance was a sort of intimidation tactic, a way of communicating that the inhabitants of this house were far too powerful to tangle with. Riley also found the ubiquitous Colonial furniture and decor to be really quite ugly.
More than anything else, she dreaded what was coming next. To her, talking to victims’ families was simply awful – much worse than dealing with murder scenes or even corpses. She found it all too easy to get caught up in people’s grief, anger, and confusion. Such intense emotions wrecked her concentration and distracted her from her work.
As they walked, Robert Newbrough said, “Father’s been home from Richmond ever since…”
He choked a little in mid-sentence. Riley could feel the intensity of his loss.
“Since we heard about Reba,” he continued. “It’s been terrible. Mother’s especially shaken up. Try not to upset her too much.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Riley said.
Robert ignored her, and led Riley into a spacious living room. Senator Mitch Newbrough and his wife were sitting together on a huge couch holding each other’s hands.
“Agent Paige,” Robert said, introducing her. “Agent Paige, let me introduce my parents, the Senator and his wife, Annabeth.”
Robert offered Reba a seat, then sat down himself.
“First of all,” Riley said quietly, “my deepest condolences for your loss.”
Annabeth Newbrough replied with a silent nod of acknowledgment. The Senator just sat staring forward.
In the brief silence that followed, Riley made a quick assessment of their faces. She’d seen Newbrough on television many times, always wearing a politician’s ingratiating smile. He wasn’t smiling now. Riley hadn’t seen so much of Mrs. Newbrough, who seemed to possess the typical docility of a politician’s wife.
Both of them were in their early sixties. Riley detected that they’d both gone to painful and expensive lengths to look younger – hair implants, hair dye, facelifts, makeup. As far as Riley was concerned, their efforts had left them looking vaguely artificial.
Like dolls, Riley thought.
“I’ve got to ask you a few questions about your daughter,” Riley said, taking out her notebook. “Were you in close touch with Reba recently?”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Newbrough said. “We are a very close family.”
Riley noted a slight stiffness in the woman’s voice. It sounded like something she said a little too often, a little too routinely. Riley felt pretty sure that family life in the Newbrough home had been far from ideal.
“Did Reba say anything recently about being threatened?” Riley asked.
“No,” Mrs. Newbrough said. “Not a word.”
Riley observed that the Senator hadn’t said a word so far. She wondered why he was being so quiet. She needed to draw him out, but how?
Now Robert spoke up.
“She’d been through a messy divorce recently. Things got ugly between her and Paul over custody of their two kids.”
“Oh, I never liked him,” Mrs. Newbrough said. “He had such a temper. Do you think that possibly—?” Her words trailed off.
Riley shook her head.
“Her ex-husband’s not a likely suspect,” she said.
“Why on earth not?” Mrs. Newbrough asked.
Riley weighed in her mind what she should and should not tell them.
“You may have read that the killer struck before,” she said. “There was a similar victim near Daggett.”
Mrs. Newbrough was becoming more agitated.
“What’s any of this supposed to mean to us?”
“We’re dealing with a serial killer,” Riley said. “There was nothing domestic about it. Your daughter may not have known the killer at all. There’s every likelihood that it wasn’t personal.”
Mrs. Newbrough was sobbing now. Riley immediately regretted her choice of words.
“Not personal?” Mrs. Newbrough almost shouted. “How could it be anything but personal?”
Senator Newbrough spoke to his son.
“Robert, please take your mother elsewhere and calm her down. I need to talk with Agent Paige alone.”
Robert Newbrough obediently led his mother away. Senator Newbrough said nothing for a moment. He looked Riley steadily in the eyes. She was sure that he was accustomed to intimidating people with that stare of his. But it didn’t work especially well on her. She simply returned his gaze.
At last, the Senator reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter-sized envelope. He walked over to her chair and handed it to her.
“Here,” he said. Then he walked back to the couch and sat down again.
“What’s this?” Riley asked.
The Senator turned his gaze on her again.
“Everything you need to know,” he said.
Riley was now completely baffled.
“May I open it?” she asked.
“By all means.”
Riley opened the envelope. It contained a single sheet of paper with two columns of names on it. She recognized some of them. Three or four were well-known reporters on the local TV news. Several others were prominent Virginia politicians. Riley was even more perplexed than before.
“Who are these people?” she asked.
“My enemies,” Senator Newbrough said in an even voice. “Probably not a comprehensive list. But those are the ones who matter. Somebody there is guilty.”
Riley was completely dumbfounded now. She sat there and said nothing.
“I’m not saying that anybody on that list killed my daughter directly, face to face,” he said. “But they sure as hell paid somebody to do it.”
Riley spoke slowly and cautiously.
“Senator, with all due respect, I believe I just said that your daughter’s killing probably wasn’t personal. There has already been one murder nearly identical to it.”
“Are you saying that my daughter was targeted purely by coincidence?” the Senator asked.
Yes, probably,
