“Agent Paige, I’ve learned through hard experience not to believe in coincidences. I don’t know why or how, but my daughter’s death was political. And in politics, everything is personal. So don’t try to tell me it’s anything else but personal. It’s your job and the Bureau’s to find whoever is responsible and bring him to justice.”
Riley took a long, deep breath. She studied the man’s face in minute detail. She could see it now. Senator Newbrough was a thorough narcissist.
Not that I should be surprised, she thought.
Riley understood something else. The Senator found it inconceivable that anything in his life wasn’t specifically about him, and him alone. Even his daughter’s murder was about him. Reba had simply gotten caught between him and somebody who hated him. He probably really believed that.
“Sir,” Riley began, “with all due respect, I don’t think – ”
“I don’t want you to think,” Newbrough said. “You’ve got all the information you need right in front of you.”
They held each other’s gaze for several seconds.
“Agent Paige,” the Senator finally said, “I get the feeling we’re not on the same wavelength. That’s a shame. You may not know it, but I’ve got good friends in the upper echelons of the agency. Some of them owe me favors. I’m going to get in touch with them right away. I need somebody on this case who will get the job done.”
Riley sat there, shocked, not knowing what to say. Was this man really that delusional?
The Senator stood.
“I’ll send somebody to see you out, Agent Paige,” he said. “I’m sorry we didn’t see eye to eye.”
Senator Newbrough walked out of the room, leaving Riley sitting there alone. Her mouth hung open with shock. The man was narcissistic, all right. But she knew there was more to it than that.
There was something the Senator was hiding.
And no matter what it took, she would find out what it was.
Chapter 10
The first thing that caught Riley’s eye was the doll – the same naked doll she had found earlier that day in that tree near Daggett, in exactly the same pose. For a moment, she was startled to see it sitting there in the FBI forensics lab surrounded by an array of high-tech equipment. It looked weirdly out of place to Riley – like some kind of sick little shrine to a bygone non-digital age.
Now the doll was just another item of evidence, protected by a plastic bag. She knew that a team had been sent to retrieve it as soon as she’d called it in from the scene. Even so, it was a jarring sight.
Special Agent Meredith stepped forward to greet her.
“It’s been a long time, Agent Paige,” he said warmly. “Welcome back.”
“It’s good to be back, sir,” Riley said.
She walked over to the table to sit with Bill and the lab tech Flores. Whatever qualms and uncertainties she might be feeling, it really did feel good to see Meredith again. She liked his gruff, no-nonsense style, and he’d always treated her with respect and consideration.
“How did things go with the Senator?” Meredith asked.
“Not good, sir,” she replied.
Riley noticed a twitch of annoyance in her boss’s face.
“Do you think he’s going to give us any trouble?”
“I’m almost sure of it. I’m sorry, sir.”
Meredith nodded sympathetically.
“I’m sure it’s not your fault,” he said.
Riley guessed that he had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Senator Newbrough’s behavior was undoubtedly typical of narcissistic politicians. Meredith was probably all too used to it.
Flores typed rapidly, and as he did, images of grisly photographs, official reports, and news stories came up on large monitors around the room.
“We did some digging, and it turns out you were right, Agent Paige,” Flores said. “The same killer did strike earlier, way before the Daggett murder.”
Riley heard Bill’s grunt of satisfaction, and for a second, Riley felt vindicated, felt her belief in herself returning.
But then her spirits sank. Another woman had died a terrible death. That was no cause for celebration. She had wished, actually, that she had not been right.
Why can’t I enjoy being right once in a while? she wondered.
A gigantic map of Virginia spread out over the main flat-screen monitor, then narrowed to the northern half of the state. Flores tagged a spot high up on the map, near the Maryland border.
“The first victim was Margaret Geraty, thirty-six years old,” Flores said. “Her body was found dumped in farmland, about thirteen miles outside of Belding. She was killed on June twenty-fifth, nearly two years ago. The FBI wasn’t called in for that one. The locals let the case go cold.”
Riley peered at the crime scene photos Flores brought up on another monitor. The killer obviously hadn’t tried to pose the body. He’d just dumped her in a hurry and left.
“Two years ago,” she said, thinking, taking it all in. A part of her was surprised he had been at this for so long. Yet another part of her knew that these sick killers could operate for years. They could have an uncanny patience.
She examined the photos.
“I see that he hadn’t developed his style,” she observed.
“Right,” Flores said. “There’s a wig there, and the hair was cropped short, but he didn’t leave a rose. However, she was choked to death with a pink ribbon.”
“He rushed through the set-up,” Riley said. “His nerves got the best of him. It was his first time, and he lacked self-confidence. He did a little better with Eileen Rogers, but it wasn’t until the Reba Frye killing that he really hit his stride.”
She remembered something that she’d wanted to ask.
“Did you find any connections between the victims? Or between the kids of the two mothers?”
“Not a thing,” Flores said. “The check of parenting groups came up empty. None of them seemed to know each other.”
That discouraged Riley, but didn’t altogether surprise her.
“What about the first woman?” Riley asked. “She was a mother, I take it.”
“Nope,” Flores said quickly, as though he’d been waiting for that question. “She was married, but childless.”
Riley was startled. She was sure that the killer was singling out mothers. How could she have gotten that wrong?
She could feel her rising self-confidence suddenly deflate.
As Riley hesitated, Bill asked, “Then how close are
