so, she was beginning to feel a faint tingle of doubt.
A short while later at home, Riley called the district medical examiner, Danica Selves. She had been friends with Danica for years. When Riley asked her about the case of Lois Pennington’s death, Danica sounded surprised.
“Why are you so curious?” Danica asked. “Is the FBI taking an interest in this?”
“No, it’s just something personal.”
“Personal?”
Riley hesitated, then said, “My daughter is good friends with Lois’s sister, and she also knew Lois a little. Both she and Lois’s sister are having trouble believing that she committed suicide.”
“I see,” Danica said. “Well, the police found no signs of a struggle. And I conducted the tests and the autopsy myself. According to blood results, she’d taken a heavy dose of alprazolam some time before she died. My guess is she just wanted to be as out of it as she possibly could. By the time she hanged herself, she probably just didn’t care about what she was doing. It would have been a lot easier to do that way.”
“So it’s really an open-and-shut case,” Riley said.
“It sure looks that way to me,” Danica said.
Riley thanked her and ended the call. At that moment, April came downstairs with a calculator and a piece of paper.
“Mom, I think I’ve proved it!” she said excitedly. “It couldn’t have been anything but murder!”
April sat down beside Riley and showed her some numbers that she’d written down.
“I did a little research online,” she said. “I found out that about seven point five college students commit suicide out of one hundred thousand. That’s point zero zero seven five percent. But there are only about seven hundred students at Byars, and three of them are supposed to have killed themselves in the last few months. That’s about point four three percent—which is fifty-seven times the average! It’s just impossible!”
Riley’s heart sank. She appreciated that April was putting so much thought into this. It seemed very mature of her.
“April, I’m sure your math is just fine, but …”
“But what?”
Riley shook her head. “It doesn’t prove anything at all.”
April’s eyes widened with disbelief.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t prove anything?”
“In statistics, there are things called outliers. They’re exceptions to the rules, they go against the averages. It’s like the last case I worked on—the poisoner, remember? Most serial killers are men, but that was a woman. And most killers like to watch their victims die, but she just didn’t care. It’s the same thing here. It’s no surprise that there are some colleges where more students commit suicide than the average.”
April stared at her and said nothing.
“April, I just talked to the medical examiner who did the autopsy. She’s sure that Lois’s death was a suicide. And she knows her job. She’s an expert. We have to trust her judgment.”
April’s face was tight with anger.
“I don’t see why you can’t trust my judgment just this once.”
Then she stormed away and went upstairs.
At least she’s sure she knows what happened, she thought with a groan.
That was more than Riley could say for herself.
Her instincts still told her nothing at all.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was happening all over again.
The monster named Peterson held April captive somewhere just ahead.
Riley struggled and searched through the dark. Each step seemed slow and cumbersome, but she knew she had to hurry.
With her shotgun slung over her shoulder, Riley stumbled in the dark down a sharp, muddy slope toward a river. Suddenly she saw them. Peterson was standing ankle-deep in the water. Just a few feet from him, April was half submerged in the water, bound by her hands and feet.
Riley reached for her shotgun, but Peterson raised a pistol and pointed it directly at April.
“Don’t even think about it,” Peterson yelled. “One move and it’s over.”
Riley was seized with horror. If she even raised her shotgun, Peterson would kill April before she could fire.
She put the shotgun on the ground.
The terror on her daughter’s face would haunt her forever …
Riley stopped running and bent over, gasping.
It was early morning, and she had gone out for a run. But the horrible memory had stopped her dead in her tracks.
Would she ever forget that terrible moment?
Would she ever stop feeling guilty for putting April in deadly danger?
No, she thought. And that’s as it should be. I must never forget.
She inhaled and exhaled the sharp, cold air until she felt steadier. Then she started walking along the familiar woodland trail. Pale early-morning daylight was filtering through the trees.
This city park trail was close to home and easy to get to. Riley often ran here in the mornings. The exertion was usually good for driving ghosts and demons of past cases from her mind. But today it was having the opposite effect.
All that had happened yesterday—the visit to the Penningtons’, the peek into the garage, and April’s anger at Riley—had brought back floods of ugly memories.
And all because of me, Riley thought, quickening her pace into a jog.
But then she remembered what had happened next in that river.
Peterson’s gun jammed, and Riley shoved a knife between his ribs, only to stagger and fall into the cold water. Wounded, Peterson still managed to hold Riley under.
Then she saw April, wrists and feet still bound, raise the shotgun that Riley had dropped. She heard it crack against Peterson’s head.
But the monster turned and charged April. He shoved her face down in the water.
Her daughter was going to drown.
Riley found a sharp rock.
She lunged at Peterson, smashing it into his head.
He fell, and she leaped on top of him.
She smashed the rock into Peterson’s face over and over again.
The
