Once Cold Read online

  Frank said, “Aunt Maddie, these FBI folks are looking for somebody named Reed J. Tillerman who might have been here twenty-five years ago.”

  Still spreading chicken feed, the woman chuckled.

  “Twenty-five years is a long time,” she said. “If he was ever here, he’s long gone.”

  Frank said, “But I think I remember something about a guy with that first name, Reed. Didn’t Dad once rent out our cottage to some stranger?”

  The woman stopped feeding the hens and looked up.

  “Oh, my,” she said. “I haven’t thought about him for a long time. My brother Luther sure wasn’t happy about that character.”

  She pointed across a pasture.

  “The family’s old first house is over yonder—just a little place. Nobody has lived there for years. Luther once thought it might be nice to rent it to folks. But he only rented it to one man. Yes, I think his name was Reed something.”

  “Yeah, now I remember,” Frank said. “Dad really didn’t like him.”

  Aunt Maddie shook her head.

  “No, he surely did not. That man was a peculiar fellow, kept to himself the whole time he was here. I never saw him except at a distance, and even then only after dark. Did you ever get a good look at him, Frank?”

  Frank shrugged. “Not that I can remember,” he said.

  “Something about his looks gave Luther the creeps,” Aunt Maddie said. “Luther wouldn’t say what it was about him, except he didn’t like his eyes. One night Reed Whatever-His-Name-Was just up and left without saying a word and we never saw him again. ‘Good riddance,’ Luther said. He never rented the house out to anybody else.”

  Riley felt a tingle of excitement.

  She asked Aunt Maddie, “Do you think your brother kept any records of that rental? Receipts or anything like that?”

  “Oh, I doubt it,” Aunt Maddie said. “He wanted to forget all about it. And if he did, well, I sure wouldn’t know where to begin looking for it.”

  “Could you show me this house?” Riley asked.

  “Certainly,” Aunt Maddie said.

  The older woman led the group across the pasture, and the small cottage appeared as soon as they walked over a rise. It was in a hopeless state of disrepair, with vines growing all over it. Several cows were lying in the tall grass in front of the house.

  Frank explained, “We’ve been using it for feed storage for years. But it’s getting too rundown even for that. Downright dangerous. We plan to tear it down soon and build a decent shed.”

  The place didn’t look at all promising, and Riley doubted that the killer had left any belongings inside. Even so, the house intrigued her.

  “Could I have a look inside?” she asked.

  Frank said, “Sure, but watch your step. The floor’s in bad shape, and the whole place is liable to cave in one of these days if we don’t tear it down first.”

  Frank led Riley among the cows and up the sagging steps onto the front porch. A screen door hung broken on its hinges. Frank pushed the front door open and invited Riley to enter.

  The light was dim inside, but Riley could see that the living room was stacked full of hay bales. There wasn’t a stick of furniture in sight.

  Frank explained, “Our cattle are pasture-raised dairy cows. In winter we like to have some high-quality hay on hand. That’s what we store here.”

  He showed Riley a door that opened into another room. It was full of salt blocks and big metal garbage cans.

  “Those cans are full of grain,” Frank said. “Grain boosts our cattle’s milk production.”

  Riley turned slowly around, taking the place in. Then she looked into a couple of doors where she saw a bathroom and a kitchen, both of which had been stripped of fixtures and appliances.

  “Not much to see, I guess,” Frank said.

  That was true—but even so, Riley picked up a mysterious vibe from the place. It wasn’t hard to imagine it full of quaint antique furniture.

  “Could you leave me alone a moment, please?” Riley asked Frank.

  Frank tilted his head uncertainly.

  “It’s not very safe in here,” he said.

  Riley almost gestured to her weapon to indicate that she was in no danger. Then she reminded herself …

  That’s not what he means.

  “I’ll be fine,” Riley said with a smile.

  Frank nodded.

  “OK, but be real careful.”

  Frank walked out onto the porch. Riley could hear him talking to the others outside.

  The vibe grew stronger. She could slowly start to feel the killer’s presence.

  Riley breathed slowly as she let the specter of the killer expand inside her.

  It was a familiar presence now—familiar from the motel room in Brinkley and from just a short while ago in the wooded area where she’d found the shovel. Once again, she sensed that he was helpless and terrified, ashamed and guilty.

  And now Riley knew that she was sensing his feelings from the very last time he had set foot in this place. She could see and feel it vividly. It was late at night, and he had just finished killing and burying Tilda Steen. He’d driven back here. He could feel the grit of dirt on his hands.

  Riley followed his footsteps into the bathroom.

  It was easy to imagine the simple porcelain fixtures that once were here.

  Retracing his movements, she went through the motions of washing her hands, watching the vestiges of dirt whirl down the drain.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  He didn’t feel clean.

  Even a long hot bath wouldn’t be enough to make him feel clean again.

  Riley could hear his thoughts echoing through her brain.

  “I’ve got to get rid of it. All of it.”

  Getting rid of the shovel hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. He had to get rid of everything.

  He even had to get rid of himself—or at least the man he’d been since he came to live here just a few weeks ago.

  He’d been staying in this house since it started—since he’d killed the college student in Brinkley, then the other girl in Denison, and just then Tilda Steen in Greybull.

  And now she could hear him think …

  “I’ve got to get out of this house.”

  He had some pathetic notion that if he got rid of everything around him, he’d somehow be different inside.

  She could feel his desperation as he went through the house gathering his belongings—so few that they must have fit easily into a small suitcase.

  She traced his footsteps toward the front door.

  Then she stepped outside into the afternoon sunlight.

  But still she felt the darkness of that ugly night—the darkness he would never be able to shake off.

  He imagined that this was the beginning of the rest of his life—a better life.

  But Riley knew deep down in her gut …

  He never became a good man.

  Perhaps he’d never murdered anyone else during all the years since.

  Perhaps he’d never committed any sort of crime.

  But in his heart and soul, he was still the man who murdered those women.

  He had no goodness in him.

  As much as he might have wanted to, he’d never learned to be a kind, caring human being.

  And now, Riley thought, the time was long overdue for him to be brought to justice.

  Riley’s reverie was interrupted by a voice.

  “Reed! Now I remember!”

  The voice yanked Riley back to the present moment. She was standing on the rickety porch with a group of people standing in front of her, not only Bill and Jake, but also the Shaffers—Sheila, Frank, and Aunt Maddie. Aunt Maddie’s expression was eager and excited.

  “His name was Reed. But that wasn’t his first name. It was his last name.”

  “What was his first name?” Riley asked breathlessly.

  Aunt Maddie nodded.

  “James. I’m sure that’s what Luther to
ld me. His name was James Reed.”

  Riley saw her colleagues’ mouths drop open. She shared their excitement, but cautioned herself not to get her hopes up again.

  She said to Aunt Maddie, “Please try to remember, ma’am. Did your brother say anything else about him that we should know?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “Nothing much—except that he really didn’t like him. He actually didn’t like him so much that he didn’t want to talk about him at all.”

  Riley handed Aunt Maddie her card.

  “Please, all of you—if you remember anything else, I want you to get in touch with me right away.”

  Riley and her colleagues thanked the family for their help. Then they made their way back to their vehicle. They stood next to the car discussing this new bit of information.

  “So do you think we’ve got his real name?” Bill asked.

  “I don’t know,” Riley said. “For all we know, James Reed was a made-up name, and his real name is Reed J. Tillerman. But I know who we should ask for help.”

  She got on the phone and called up Sam Flores, the BAU’s head lab technician. She put him on speakerphone so Bill and Jake could be in on the conversation.

  “Sam, we need some help here,” she said. “We’re over near Greybull working on the old Matchbook Killer case.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sam said. “The one I aged the composite sketch for. How’s that one going?”

  “That depends,” Bill said.

  “Maybe you can help us,” Jake said.

  “Name it,” Sam said.

  Riley thought for a moment.

  Finally she said, “We’ve got two possible suspect names—Reed J. Tillerman and James Reed. One name might be made up, the other might be real. What can you give me on those names?”

  Riley could hear Sam’s fingers dancing on his keyboard.

  Finally he said, “Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. I’m going to give you the good news first. You can eliminate Reed J. Tillerman. It sounds like it ought to be a common name. But I can’t find a single Reed Tillerman anywhere, alive or dead or indifferent.”

  “OK,” Riley said. “What’s the bad news?”

  “Well, there are several thousand guys named James Reed across the country.”

  Riley, Bill, and Jake exchanged glances.

  “Can you narrow that down to a more specific area?” Jake asked.

  “How specific do you want?” Sam asked.

  Riley and her colleagues thought for a moment.

  Finally Riley said, “How about within the general area of the three towns where the murders took place? Brinkley, Denison, and Greybull?”

  “I can do it,” Sam said. “But it might take a while. Is tomorrow OK?”

  Riley felt a reflexive impulse to tell him the situation was urgent.

  After all, the situation usually was urgent.

  But not this time—not on a cold case.

  With an almost silent sigh, Riley said, “Tomorrow will be fine. Thanks.”

  She ended the call, and she, Bill, and Jake stood looking at one another.

  “So—what now?” Jake asked.

  Bill shrugged. “That’s all we can do right now. We might as well head back to Quantico. I’ll drive this time.”

  Riley was relieved to get a break from driving. She climbed into the back seat while Bill and Jake sat in the front.

  Just as Bill got the car moving, Riley’s phone buzzed. She didn’t recognize the number, so she just let it ring. The caller left a message, and when Riley listened to it, she heard a familiar quavering, elderly voice.

  “This is Byron Chaney. I’ve got to talk to you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Riley’s hand shook as she held the phone. She could hardly believe her ears. She’d felt sure that she had heard the last of Byron Chaney.

  She listened to the message again.

  It’s him, she thought. It’s definitely him.

  She started to return the call right then. But she had to stop herself.

  Jake and Bill were both sitting right in front of her, with Bill driving and Jake in the passenger seat. Neither of her old friends knew anything about her search for her mother’s killer. She couldn’t tell them. So whatever it was Byron wanted to talk about, Riley couldn’t talk about it in their presence.

  She’d have to wait.

  They were headed back to Quantico, but she wasn’t sure she could stand the suspense until then.

  To Riley’s great relief, Bill soon announced that they needed to stop for gas.

  As soon as they pulled into a gas station, Riley said that she needed to use the restroom. She scrambled out of the car, hurried into the convenience store, and locked herself in the little restroom.

  Before she took out her phone, she looked in the mirror.

  Is this really me? she asked herself.

  Was she really sneaking away from her best friends to make a phone call?

  How had she gotten to be so furtive, so untrusting, so secretive?

  She fought down a sense of shame and dialed Byron’s number.

  When his familiar tired, hoarse, scratchy voice answered, she said, “It’s me. What did you call about?”

  “I’ve been thinking since you came here. I haven’t been able to stop thinking. I haven’t been able to sleep much. It’s been making me crazy.”

  For a moment Riley wondered—had Byron really called her with new information?

  Or did he only want to commiserate, to wallow some more in the guilt he felt about her mother’s death? That was the last thing Riley wanted to hear right now.

  She forced herself to keep quiet and listen.

  Then Byron said, “Your daddy and I had a buddy in ’Nam, name of Floyd Britson—he was Sergeant Floyd Britson back in the day. Floyd tracked me down and gave me a call a couple of years ago. For no real reason, just to reconnect, talk about old times. I hadn’t heard from him in years. We got to talking about your daddy, and what a good man he was, but how tough he was, and how easy he made enemies.”

  Byron fell silent for a moment.

  “Tell me,” Riley said anxiously.

  “He mentioned your daddy getting into a fight once with another Marine—not a man I knew personally. Of course, your daddy was in lots of fights. But Floyd said this time was especially nasty. Your daddy did a lot more than just beat the guy senseless. He humiliated him in front of his buddies, made him look like a total fool, made everybody laugh at him, destroyed his self-respect. The guy didn’t get over it. From that day on, he told everybody that he was going to get back at your daddy one way or the other.”

  Byron paused again.

  Then he said, “I didn’t think much of it while Floyd and I were talking, or even afterward. But now, the more I think about it …”

  Byron’s voice trailed off.

  Riley’s heart was pounding now.

  “What was the man’s name?” Riley asked. “The man my father fought with?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure Floyd even told me. If he did, I can’t remember. I’ve been racking my brain all day, but I just can’t remember anything else. I don’t think he said anything more than what I just told you. He didn’t even say where the fight happened or when.”

  Riley struggled to keep her voice from shaking.

  “I’ve got to get in touch with Floyd Britson. How can I reach him?”

  “Well, I’m hoping he’s still alive,” Byron said. “He didn’t sound so good when I talked to him. He said he’d just been put in a nursing home, and he wasn’t too happy about it. It’s in a little town called Innis.”

  The name registered with Riley instantly. Innis wasn’t more than fifty miles from Quantico.

  “Do you know the name of the nursing home?” Riley asked.

  “Sorry, no.”

  Riley couldn’t think of any further questions to ask.

  “Byron, thanks,” she said. “This really means a lot to me.”

/>   Riley ended the phone call and paced in the small restroom.

  Then she used her cell phone to get the list of vets of the Romeo Company who still lived in Virginia.

  Sure enough, there the name was:

  Britson, Floyd T SGT

  And if Byron was right, she’d be able to find him in a nursing home in Innis.

  Riley knew that Innis was a small town, and it ought to be easy to locate a nursing home there. She did a search on her cell phone. Sure enough, there was only one nursing home in Innis—Eldon Gardens Assisted Living.

  Of course, she wanted to go there right away.

  But that was impossible.

  She pulled herself together and walked out toward the car. She saw that Bill had finished filling the tank, probably several minutes ago. She hoped that he and Jake wouldn’t ask her why she had taken so long.

  When she got into the car, she was relieved to realize that Bill and Jake had been engaged in idle small talk. They didn’t seem to have noticed her absence.

  Bill started the car, and they continued on their way to Quantico.

  *

  When they all got out of the vehicle in the BAU parking lot, Jake called out to Riley as she walked away toward her own car.

  “Hey, Riley. Bill and I are headed out for a drink. Why don’t you join us?”

  Riley winced a little. Bill and Jake were spending a lot of time together. Surely they must have felt as though she were avoiding them.

  She simply shook her head no.

  She could see the disappointment in Jake’s face.

  He said, “Come on, Riley. It’s not like I’m going to be in town forever.”

  His words stung Riley.

  It was true. After so many years apart, Riley wished she could spend more time with her mentor and old friend.

  But she couldn’t do that. Not right now.

  Riley tried uneasily to think of an excuse.

  Then Bill said, “Leave her alone, Jake. She just wants to spend time with her kids. She’s got the right priorities.”

  Riley felt a crushing spasm of guilt.

  As usual, Bill was judging Riley in the best possible light.

  And he was absolutely wrong.

  But she didn’t contradict Bill, and he and Jake headed away toward Bill’s car.