exactly determined. Flores, show them.”
Flores turned back to the slide show. The screen split and alongside the images on the screen, a new series of images appeared. The two victims were displayed side by side. Bill gasped. It was amazing. Aside from the frozen flesh of the one body, the corpses were in almost the same condition, the wounds nearly identical. Both women had their eyes stitched open in the same, hideous manner.
Bill sighed, the images bringing it all back. No matter how many years he was on the force, seeing each victim pained him.
“Rogers’s body was found seated upright against a tree,” Bill continued, his voice more grim. “Not quite as carefully posed as the one at Mosby Park. No contact lenses or Vaseline, but most of the other details are the same. Rogers’s hair was chopped short, not shaved, but there was a similar patched-together wig. She was also strangled with a pink ribbon, and a fake rose was found in front of her.”
Bill paused for a moment. He hated what he had to say next.
“Paige and I couldn’t crack the case.”
Spelbren turned to him.
“What was the problem?” he asked.
“What wasn’t the problem?” Bill countered, unnecessarily defensive. “We couldn’t get a single break. We had no witnesses; the victim’s family couldn’t give us any useful information; Rogers had no enemies, no ex-husband, no angry boyfriend. There wasn’t a single good reason for her to be targeted and killed. The case went cold immediately.”
Bill fell silent. Dark thoughts flooded his brain.
“Don’t,” Meredith said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have stopped the new killing.”
Bill appreciated the kindness, but he felt guilty as hell. Why couldn’t he have cracked it before? Why couldn’t Riley? There were very few times in his career he had been so stumped.
At that moment, Meredith’s phone buzzed, and the chief took the call.
Almost the first thing he said was, “Shit.”
He repeated it several times. Then he said, “You’re positive it’s her?” He paused. “Was there any contact for ransom?”
He stood from his chair and stepped outside the conference room, leaving the other three men sitting in perplexed silence. After a few minutes, he came back. He looked older.
“Gentlemen, we’re now in crisis mode,” he announced. “We just got a positive ID on yesterday’s victim. Her name was Reba Frye.”
Bill gasped as if he’d been punched in the stomach; he could see Spelbren’s shock, too. But Flores looked confused.
“Should I know who that is?” Flores asked.
“Maiden name’s Newbrough,” Meredith explained. “The daughter of State Senator Mitch Newbrough – probably Virginia’s next governor.”
Flores exhaled.
“I hadn’t heard that she’d gone missing,” Spelbren said.
“It wasn’t officially reported,” Meredith said. “Her father’s already been contacted. And of course he thinks it’s political, or personal, or both. Never mind that the same thing happened to another victim six months ago.”
Meredith shook his head.
“The Senator’s leaning hard on this,” he added. “An avalanche of press is about to hit. He’ll make sure of it, to keep our feet to the fire.”
Bill’s heart sank. He hated feeling as though he were over his head. But that’s exactly how he felt right now.
A somber silence fell over the room.
Finally, Bill cleared his throat.
“We’re going to need help,” he said.
Meredith turned to him, and Bill met his hardened gaze. Suddenly, Meredith’s face knotted up with worry and disapproval. He clearly knew what Bill was thinking.
“She’s not ready,” Meredith answered, clearly knowing that Bill meant to bring her in.
Bill sighed.
“Sir,” he replied, “she knows the case better than anyone. And there’s no one smarter.”
After another pause, Bill came out and said what he was really thinking.
“I don’t think we can do it without her.”
Meredith thumped his pencil against a pad of paper a few times, clearly wishing he was anywhere but here.
“It’s a mistake,” he said. “But if she falls apart, it’s your mistake.” He exhaled again. “Call her.”
Chapter 3
The teenage girl who opened the door looked as though she might slam it in Bill’s face. Instead, she whirled around and walked away without a word, leaving the door open.
Bill stepped inside.
“Hi, April,” he said automatically.
Riley’s daughter, a sullen, gangly fourteen-year-old, with her mother’s dark hair and hazel eyes, didn’t reply. Dressed only in an oversized T-shirt, her hair a mess, April turned a corner and plopped herself down on the couch, dead to everything except her earphones and cell phone.
Bill stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. When he had called Riley, she had agreed to his visiting, albeit reluctantly. Had she changed her mind?
Bill glanced around as he proceeded into the dim house. He walked through the living room and saw everything was neat and in its place, which was characteristic of Riley. Yet he also noticed the blinds drawn, a film of dust on the furniture – and that wasn’t like her at all. On a bookshelf he spotted a row of shiny new paperback thrillers he’d bought for her during her leave, hoping they’d get her mind off her problems. Not a single binding looked cracked.
Bill’s sense of apprehension deepened. This was not the Riley he knew. Was Meredith right? Did she need more time on leave? Was he doing the wrong thing by reaching out to her before she was ready?
Bill braced himself and proceeded deeper into the dark house, and as he turned a corner, he found Riley, alone in the kitchen, sitting at the Formica table in her housecoat and slippers, a cup of coffee in front of her. She looked up and he saw a flash of embarrassment, as if she had forgotten he was coming. But she quickly covered it up with a weak smile, and stood.
He stepped forward and hugged her, and she hugged him, weakly, back. In her slippers, she was a little shorter than he was. She had become very thin, too thin, and his concern deepened.
He sat down across the table from her and studied her. Her hair was clean, but it wasn’t combed, either, and it looked as if she had been wearing those slippers for days. Her face looked gaunt, too pale, and much, much older since he’d last seen her five weeks ago. She looked as if she had been through hell. She had. He tried not to think about what the last killer had done to her.
She averted her gaze,
