and fair boss, he’d gone to bat for Riley many times when she was in trouble with the bureau. Even so, Riley was determined not to let herself get drawn in, at least for the time being.
I can’t go traveling right now, she texted back.
Bill replied, It’s right here in the area.
Riley shook her head with discouragement. Standing her ground wasn’t going to be easy.
She texted back to him, I’ll get back to you.
No reply came, and Riley put the phone back in her bag.
“I thought you said that was rude, Mom,” April said in a quiet, sullen voice.
April was still texting.
“I’m through with mine,” she said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt.
April ignored her. Riley’s own phone buzzed again. She cursed silently. She saw that the text was from Meredith himself.
Be at BAU meeting tomorrow 9 AM.
Riley was trying to think of a way to excuse herself when another text followed.
That’s an order.
CHAPTER TWO
Riley’s spirits sank as she looked at the two images looming on screens above the BAU conference room table. One was a photo of a carefree girl with bright eyes and a winning smile. The other was her corpse, horribly emaciated and lying with her arms pointed in odd directions. Since she had been ordered to attend this meeting, Riley knew there must be other victims like this one.
Sam Flores, a savvy lab technician with black-rimmed glasses, was running the multimedia display for the four other agents seated around the table.
“These pictures are of Metta Lunoe, seventeen years old,” Flores said. “Her family lives in Collierville, New Jersey. Her parents reported her missing in March – a runaway.”
He added a huge map of Delaware to the display, indicating a location with a pointer.
He said, “Her body turned up in a field outside of Mowbray, Delaware, on May sixteenth. Her neck had been broken.”
Flores brought up another pair of images – one showing another vibrant young girl, the other showing her almost unrecognizably withered, her arms stretched out in a similar way.
“These pictures are of Valerie Bruner, also seventeen, a reported runaway from Norbury, Virginia. She disappeared in April.”
Flores pointed to another location on the map.
“Her body was found stretched out in a dirt road near Redditch, Delaware, on June twelfth. Obviously the same MO as the earlier killing. Agent Jeffreys was brought in to investigate.”
Riley was startled. How could Bill have worked on a case that hadn’t involved her? Then she remembered. In June, she had been hospitalized, recovering from her horrible ordeal in Peterson’s cage. Even so, Bill had visited her frequently in the hospital. He’d never mentioned that he was also working this case.
She turned toward Bill.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asked.
Bill’s face looked grim.
“It wasn’t a good time,” he said. “You had troubles of your own.”
“Who was your partner?” Riley asked.
“Agent Remsen.”
Riley recognized the name. Bruce Remsen had transferred out of Quantico before she had come back to work.
Then after a pause, Bill added, “I couldn’t crack the case.”
Now Riley could read his expression and tone of voice. After years of friendship and partnership, she understood Bill as well as anybody did. And she knew that he was deeply disappointed with himself.
Flores brought up the medical examiner’s photos of the girls’ naked backs. The bodies were so wasted away that they barely seemed real. Both backs bore old scars and fresh welts.
Riley felt a gnawing discomfort all over now. She was taken aback by the feeling. Since when had she gotten queasy about photos of corpses?
Flores said, “They were both starved almost to death before their necks were broken. They were also severely beaten, probably over a long period of time. Their bodies were moved to where they were found postmortem. We have no idea where they were actually killed.”
Trying not to let her rising unease get the best of her, Riley mulled over similarities with cases she and Bill had solved during the last few months. The so-called “dolly killer” had left his victims’ bodies where they could be easily found, posed naked in grotesque doll-like positions. The “chain killer” hung the bodies of his victims up off the ground, wildly decked in heavy chains.
Now Flores brought up the image of another young woman – a cheerful-looking redhead. Alongside the photo was one of a beat-up, empty Toyota.
“This car belonged to a twenty-four-year-old Irish immigrant named Meara Keagan,” Flores said. “She was reported missing yesterday morning. Her car was found abandoned just outside an apartment building in Westree, Delaware. She worked there for a family as maid and nanny.”
Now Special Agent Brent Meredith spoke. He was a daunting, big-boned African-American with angular features and a no-nonsense demeanor.
“She got off her shift at eleven o’clock the night before last,” Meredith said. “The car was found early the next morning.”
Special Agent in Charge Carl Walder leaned forward in his chair. He was Brent Meredith’s boss – a babyish, freckle-faced man with curly, copper-colored hair. Riley didn’t like him. She didn’t think he was especially competent. It didn’t help that he’d once fired her.
“Why do we think this disappearance is linked with the earlier murders?” Walder asked. “Meara Keagan is older than the other victims.”
Now Lucy Vargas chimed in. She was a bright young rookie with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion.
“You can see by the map. Keagan disappeared in the same general area where the two bodies were found. It might be coincidence, but it seems unlikely. Not over a period of five months, all so close together.”
Despite her increasing discomfort, Riley was pleased at the sight of Walder wincing a little. Without meaning to, Lucy had put him in his place. Riley hoped he wouldn’t find some way to get back at Lucy later on. Walder could be petty that way.
“That’s correct, Agent Vargas,” Meredith said. “Our guess is that the younger girls were abducted while hitchhiking. Very likely along this highway that runs through the area.” He pointed out a specific line on the map.
Lucy asked, “Isn’t hitchhiking banned in Delaware?” She added, “Of course, that can be hard to enforce.”
“You’re right about that,” Meredith said. “And this isn’t an interstate or even the main state highway, so hitchhikers probably do use it. Apparently the killer does too.
