When she walked into the Rushville police station first thing in the morning, Samantha had a feeling she was going to be in trouble. Yesterday she’d made a few phone calls that perhaps she shouldn’t have made.
Maybe I should learn to mind my own business, she thought.
But somehow, minding her own business didn’t come easily to her.
She was always trying to fix things—sometimes things that couldn’t be fixed, or things that other people didn’t want to have fixed.
As usual when she showed up for work, Sam saw no other cops around, just the chief’s secretary, Mary Ruckle.
Her fellow officers teased her a lot for that …
“Good old reliable Sam,” they’d say. “Always the first to get here, the last to get out.”
Somehow, they never seemed to mean that in a nice way. But she always reminded herself that it was natural for “good old reliable Sam” to get picked on. She was the youngest and newest cop on the Rushville force. It didn’t help any that she was also the only female on the force.
For a moment Mary Ruckle didn’t seem to notice Sam’s arrival. She was busily doing her nails—her usual occupation during most of a workday. Sam couldn’t understand the appeal of doing one’s nails. She always kept hers plain and clipped short, which was maybe one of the many reasons people thought of her as, well …
Unladylike.
Not that Mary Ruckle was what Sam would consider attractive. Her face was all tight and mean, as if it were all pinched together by a clothespin on the bridge of her nose. Still, Mary was married with three children, and few people in Rushville foresaw that kind of life for Sam.
Whether Sam actually wanted that kind of life, she didn’t really know. She tried not to think too much about the future. Maybe that was why she focused so hard on every bit of whatever came in front of her on any given day. She couldn’t actually imagine a future for herself, at least not among the choices that seemed to be available.
Mary puffed on her nails and looked up at Sam and said …
“Chief Crane wants to talk to you.”
Sam nodded with a sigh.
Just like I expected, she thought.
She walked on into the chief’s office and found Chief Carter Crane playing Tetris on his computer.
“Just a minute,” he grumbled upon hearing Sam walk into the room.
Probably distracted by Sam’s arrival, he quickly lost the game he was playing.
“Damn,” he said, staring at the screen.
Sam braced herself. He was probably already pissed off with her. Blowing a game of Tetris wasn’t going to improve his mood.
The Chief turned around in his swivel chair and said …
“Kuehling, sit.”
Sam obediently sat down in front of his desk.
Chief Crane steepled his fingertips together and stared at her for a moment, trying as usual to look like the big shot he imagined himself to be. And as usual, Sam wasn’t impressed.
Crane was about thirty, and he was blandly pleasant-looking in a way that Sam thought would better suit an insurance man. Instead, he had risen to the post of police chief due to the power vacuum that Chief Jason Swihart had left when he went suddenly went away two years ago.
Swihart had been a good chief and everybody had liked him, including Sam. Swihart been offered a great job with a security company way over in Silicon Valley, and he’d understandably moved on to greener pastures.
So now Sam and the other cops were answerable to Chief Carter Crane. As far as Sam was concerned, he was a mediocrity in a department full of mediocrities. Sam would never admit it aloud, but she felt sure she had better brains than Crane and all the other local cops put together.
It’d be nice to have a chance to prove it, she thought.
Finally Crane said, “I got an interesting phone call last night—from a certain Special Agent Brent Meredith in Quantico. You’d never believe what he told me. Oh, but then again, maybe you would.”
Sam groaned with annoyance and said, “Come on, Chief. Let’s get right to the point. I called the FBI late last afternoon. I talked to several people before I finally got connected with Meredith. I thought somebody ought to call the FBI. They should be down here helping us out.”
Crane smirked and said, “Don’t tell me. It’s because you still think Gareth Ogden’s murder the night before last was the work of a serial killer who lives right here in Rushville.”
Sam rolled her eyes.
“Do I need to explain it all over again?” she said. “The whole Bonnett family got killed here one night ten years ago. Somebody bashed in their heads with a hammer. The case was never solved.”
Crane nodded and said, “And you think the same killer has come out of the woodwork ten years later.”
Sam shrugged and said, “There’s pretty obviously some connection. The MO is identical.”
Crane suddenly raised his voice a little.
“There’s no connection. We went through all this yesterday. The MO is just a coincidence. The best we can tell, Gareth Ogden was killed by some drifter passing through town. We’re following every lead we can. But unless he does the same thing somewhere else, we’re liable to never catch him.”
Sam felt a surge of impatience.
She said, “If he was just a drifter, why wasn’t there any sign of a robbery?”
Crane slapped his desk with the palm of his hand.
“Damn it, you don’t give up on any of your notions, do you? We don’t know that there wasn’t a robbery. Ogden was dumb enough to leave his front door open. Maybe he was also dumb enough to leave a wad of money lying on his coffee table. The killer saw it and decided to help himself to it, bashing in Ogden’s head in the process.”
Cradling his fingertips together again, Crane added …
“Now doesn’t that sound more plausible than some psychopath who’s spent ten long years … doing what, exactly? Hibernating, maybe?”
Sam took a long, deep breath.
Don’t get started with him again, she told herself.
There was no point in explaining all over again just why Crane’s theory bugged her. For one thing, what about the hammer? She herself had noticed that Ogden’s hammers were all still neatly stowed in his tool chest. So did the killer lug around a hammer with him as he drifted from town to town?
It was possible, sure.
It also struck her as a little bit ridiculous.
Crane growled sullenly and added, “I told that Meredith guy that you were bored and overly imaginative and to forget all about it. But frankly, the whole conversation was embarrassing. I don’t like it when people go over my head. You had no business making those phone calls. Asking for help from the FBI is my job, not yours.”
Sam was grinding her teeth, struggling to keep her thoughts to herself.
She managed to say in a quiet voice …
“Yes, Chief.”
Crane breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief.
“I’m going to let this slide and not take any disciplinary action this time around,” he said. “The truth is, I’d be much happier if none of the guys found out any of this happened. Have you told anybody else here about your shenanigans?”
“No, Chief.”
“Then keep it that way,” Crane said.
Crane turned and started a new game of Tetris as Sam left his office. She went to her desk and sat down and brooded silently.
If I can’t talk to somebody about this, I’m liable to explode, she thought.
But she’d just promised not to bring it up with the other cops.
So who did that leave?
She could think of exactly one person … the one who was the reason she was here, trying to do this job …
My dad.
He’d been an active duty cop here when the Bonnett family had been murdered.
The fact that the case wasn’t solved had haunted him for years.
Maybe Dad could tell me something, she thought.
Maybe he’d have some ideas.
But Sam’s heart sank as she realized that wouldn’t be such a good idea. Her father was in a local nursing home and was suffering from bouts of dementia. He had his good days and his bad days, but bringing up a case from his past would almost certainly upset and confuse him. Sam didn’t want to do that.
Right now she had nothing much to do until her partner, Dominic, showed up for their morning beat. She hoped he’d get here soon, so they could make a round of the area before the heat got too oppressive. Today was expected to break some records.
Meanwhile, there was no point in worrying about things she couldn’t do anything about—not even the possibility that a serial killer might be right here in Rushville, getting ready to strike again.
Try not to think about it, she told herself.
Then she scoffed and murmured aloud …
“Like that’s going to happen.”
Riley’s cell phone buzzed while Blaine was driving them all back to Fredericksburg. She was surprised and unsettled to see who the call was from.
Is this some kind of emergency? she wondered.
Gabriela never called her just to chat, and she had made a point of not calling at all during their two weeks at the beach. She’d only sent an occasional text to let Riley know that everything was all right at home.
Riley’s concern grew when she took the call and heard a note of alarm in Gabriela’s voice …
“Señora Riley—when will you be home?”
“In about half an hour,” Riley said. “Why?”
She heard Gabriela inhale sharply, then say …
“He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” Riley asked.
When Gabriela didn’t answer immediately, Riley understood …
“Oh my God,” she said. “Ryan’s there?”
“Sí,” Gabriela said.
“What does he want?” Riley asked.
“He does not say. But he says it is something important. He is waiting for you.”
Riley almost asked Gabriela to put Ryan on the phone. But then it occurred to her—whatever Ryan wanted was probably nothing she’d want to discuss on the phone right now. Not with everybody else right there in the car.
Instead Riley said, “Tell him I’ll be home soon.”
“I will,” Gabriela said.
They ended the call and Riley sat staring out the SUV window.
After a moment Blaine said, “Um … did I hear you say something about …?”
Riley nodded.
Sitting behind them listening to music, the girls hadn’t been listening until just now.
“What?” April asked. “What’s going on?”
Riley sighed and said, “It’s your father. He’s at home waiting for us.”
Both April and Jilly gasped aloud.
Then Jilly said, “Couldn’t you tell Gabriela to just make him go away?”
Riley was tempted to say she’d really like to, but it wouldn’t be fair to unload that task on Gabriela.
Instead she said …
“You know I can’t do that.”
April and Jilly both moaned with dismay.
Riley could well understand how her two daughters felt. Ryan’s last unannounced visit to their house had been unpleasant for everybody—Ryan included. His attempt to charm his way back into the girls’ lives had backfired. April had been cool toward him, and Jilly had been downright rude.
Riley hadn’t been able to blame either one of them.
One too many times, Ryan had built up their hopes that he could still act like a father. He’d dashed those hopes yet again, and the girls had wanted nothing to do with him.
What does he want now? Riley wondered, sighing again.
Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn’t going to sour everybody’s good feelings about the vacation they’d just had. It had been a lovely two weeks, despite Riley’s dream about her father. Since then she had done her best to put Agent Meredith’s call out of her mind.
But now the news about Ryan seemed to trigger her dark thoughts again.
A hammer, she thought.
Someone was killed with a hammer.
She reminded herself sternly that she’d done the right thing by saying no to Chief Meredith. Besides, he hadn’t called her again about it, which surely meant that he wasn’t very concerned about it after all.
It was probably nothing, she thought.
Just a case for the locals to take care of.
Everybody’s anxiety mounted as Blaine pulled his SUV up in front of Riley’s townhouse. An expensive Audi was parked out in front. It was Ryan’s car, of course—but Riley couldn’t remember whether it was the same car he’d had the last time he’d been here. He liked to keep up on the latest models, no matter how expensive.
Once they were parked, Blaine stammered awkwardly. He wanted to help Riley and her two daughters carry their bags back into the house, but …
“Is it going to be awkward?” Blaine asked Riley.
Riley stifled a groan.
Of course, she thought.
Blaine and Ryan had rarely met, but those encounters had hardly been friendly—at least on Ryan’s part. Blaine had done his best to be pleasant, but Ryan had been sullen and hostile.
Riley and April and Jilly could easily carry their bags inside in a single trip. They didn’t really need Blaine’s help, and Riley didn’t want Blaine to feel uncomfortable, and yet …
Why the hell should Blaine feel uncomfortable in my own house?
Telling Blaine and Crystal to go away was no solution to this problem.
Riley said to Blaine, “Come on in.”
The group carried all the bags into the house. Gabriela met them at the door, along with Jilly’s small, big-eared dog, Darby. The dog bounced around them with delight, but Gabriela didn’t look nearly so happy.
As they put the bags down in the entry area, Riley saw Ryan sitting in the living room. Riley was alarmed to see that he was flanked by two suitcases …
Is he planning to stay?
April’s black and white kitten, Marbles, lay comfortably in his lap.
Ryan looked up from petting Marbles.
He smiled weakly and said in a rather pathetic voice …
“A kitten and a dog! Wow, all this is new!”
With a gasp of annoyance, April snatched Marbles out of Ryan’s lap.
Ryan looked hurt, of course. But again, Riley understood well how April felt.
As April and Jilly both headed toward the stairs, Riley said …
“Hold on, girls. Don’t you have something to say to Blaine and Crystal?”
Looking a little ashamed at their lapse of manners, April and Jilly thanked Blaine and Crystal for the great time they had.
Crystal gave each of the other girls a hug. “Call you tomorrow,” she said to April.
“Now take your stuff up with you,” Riley told them.
April and Jilly obediently grabbed their bags. Jilly picked up most of their other things, since April was still holding Marbles in one hand. Then they both headed up the stairs, and Darby scampered after them. Seconds later came two banging sounds as they shut their bedroom doors behind them.
Gabriela looked at Ryan with dismay and headed away to her own apartment.
Ryan looked at Blaine and said timidly, “Hi, Blaine. Hope you all had a good vacation.”
Riley’s mouth dropped open with surprise.
He’s trying to be polite, she thought.
Now she knew that something must be terribly wrong.
Blaine gave Ryan a small wave and said, “It was great, Ryan. How have you been?”
Ryan shrugged and said nothing.
Riley was determined not to let Ryan limit her behavior.
She kissed Blaine gently on the lips and said, “Thanks for the wonderful time.”
Blaine blushed, obviously embarrassed by the situation.
“Thank you—and your girls,” he said.
Crystal shook Riley’s hand and thanked her.
Blaine mouthed silently to Riley, “Call me later.”
Riley nodded yes, and Blaine and his daughter headed on out to his SUV.
Riley took a deep breath and turned to face the only other person left in the living room. Her ex-husband stared silently at her with pleading eyes.
What does he want? she wondered yet again.
Usually when Ryan came around, she’d be aware right away that he was still a handsome man—somewhat taller, older, and more athletic than Blaine, and always perfectly groomed and dressed. But this time was somehow different. He looked rumpled and sad and broken. She’d never seen him look this way.
Riley was about to ask him what was wrong when he said …
“Could we maybe have a drink?”
Riley looked at his face for a moment. It was drawn and sallow. She wondered …
Has he been drinking lately?
Did he have a few drinks before coming here?
She briefly considered denying his request, but then headed out to the kitchen and poured bourbon on ice for both of them. She brought the drinks out into the living room and sat down in a chair facing him, waiting for him to say something.
Finally, with his shoulders hunched, he said in a hushed voice …
“Riley—I’m ruined.”
Riley’s mouth dropped open.
What does he mean? she wondered.
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