Blake Pierce - The Making of Riley Paige - 4 - Taking Page 5

Gibney killing again. He was a guilty wreck about that for months. I thought

  we’d put all that behind us.”

  Harry nodded reluctantly and said to Riley and Crivaro with a weak smile.

  “Well, you heard what the missus said. She’s got me on a tight leash. I wish I

  could work with you, but there it is. We’ve got an itinerary. We’re headed

  south to the Coronado National Forest today. We’ve got a reservation at the

  Riggs Flat campground.”

  “And we’re not canceling,” Jillian added sharply. “No matter what.”

  Harry squeezed her hand and said, “Of course not, honey. But we’ve got

  enough time to drive these two to the police station in Tunsboro. Then we can

  get back to the campground and check out there. It’s the least we can do for

  them, after they went to all this time and trouble.”

  Jillian stared hard at Harry. “OK—as long as you promise not to change

  your mind along the way.”

  Harry awkwardly raised his right hand.

  “I promise,” he said and gave her a quick kiss.

  Jillian smiled and looked reassured. She wagged her finger at Crivaro and

  said …

  “And don’t you go trying to persuade him otherwise!”

  “I wouldn’t think of it,” Crivaro said with a chuckle.

  The couple seemed a lot more relaxed now. Harry even picked up his

  sandwich again and as they all kept eating, he regaled Riley and Crivaro with

  small talk. Now and then, Jillian added details or corrected him.

  Harry and Jillian had recently become first-time grandparents, and their

  youngest daughter was getting married. As usual at this time of year, the weather in Colorado was too cold for their liking. So as they almost always

  did during the winter, the couple had packed up their camper and driven into

  the warmer Southwest, where they were hopping from one campground to

  another.

  Harry proudly showed Riley and Crivaro a picture of their camping rig—a

  fair-sized trailer towed by a white truck. Harry called the getup “our home

  away from home.”

  As the small talk continued, Riley noticed a wistful expression on

  Crivaro’s face.

  She wondered …

  Does Crivaro envy them?

  Again she noticed that Crivaro and Harry looked close to the same age.

  She hadn’t given any thought to Crivaro retiring. Did he ever think about

  that?

  Would he see any point in it?

  Although there was a lot Riley didn’t know about her mentor, she did

  know that he was divorced and had an estranged son.

  Crivaro’s life wasn’t anything like Harry and Jillian’s, with their close and

  happy family. If he had grandchildren, he’d never mentioned them to Riley.

  He’d told her that his ex-wife was happily remarried, and his son had gone

  into real estate, and …

  “They’re perfectly normal, just like regular folks.”

  With a self-deprecating laugh, he’d added …

  “Maybe I just can’t do normal.”

  Not for the first time, it occurred to Riley that Crivaro must be a very

  lonely man.

  If his work was the only thing that gave his life meaning, if he felt that

  he’d missed out on something, then naturally this perfectly normal, happily

  retired couple could stir up melancholy feelings in him.

  Was loneliness one reason he’d brought her along on this peculiar trip?

  There had been moments when Riley had felt that Crivaro was more like a

  real father to her than that bitter ex-Marine who lived alone in the mountains.

  At least he sometimes praised her for doing something well, which was more

  than her actual father ever did.

  She wondered …

  Does he ever think of me as a daughter?

  The group finished eating and headed on out to the parking lot. Riley was

  relieved that the weather was actually very pleasant. Warm, but not hot or

  humid. Maybe the clothes she had with her would serve after all.

  She’d expected to see the whole camping rig from the photos, but they

  were just headed toward a truck.

  “Where’s the camper?” Crivaro asked.

  “That’s the beauty of our rig,” Jillian replied. “We can disconnect the

  house and leave it in the campground while we drive around in our … um …

  extended car. Not as fancy as some, but it’s very practical.”

  Crivaro and Harry climbed into the front seats, and Riley and Jillian got

  into the wide back seat.

  As Harry drove out of the airport, he started to regale Crivaro with more

  small talk—what routes they had taken coming south from Colorado, where

  they intended to go next, what places they visited every winter, even where

  they’d found good restaurants along the way. It seemed to Riley that he had

  an endless supply of trivial things to talk about, but Crivaro appeared to be

  listening contentedly, apparently not bored at all.

  Riley tuned that conversation out. She was grateful that Jillian, sitting

  beside her, didn’t seem inclined to indulge in similar meaningless chatter.

  But then, Riley wondered, should she be saying something like that to

  Jillian, if only to be polite?

  As Harry pulled onto the freeway and headed north, Jillian spoke up. “I

  see that you’re engaged.”

  Riley was startled by the remark, but quickly realized that Jillian was

  looking at her engagement ring.

  She smiled and said, “Yes, I am.”

  Jillian half-smiled as she asked, “Have you set a date for the wedding?”

  Riley gulped at the question.

  “Uh, no, not yet,” she said.

  The truth was, she and Ryan had no idea just when the date would be.

  Sometimes it seemed like the whole idea was little more than a fantasy.

  “Well,” Jillian said, “I wish you every happiness.”

  Jillian then turned her head and gazed out the window.

  Riley felt a lot of meaning in those words.

  “I wish you every happiness.”

  Jillian and her husband certainly seemed to have found happiness. But Riley sensed that their happiness had been hard won, and that Harry’s work

  in law enforcement hadn’t made things easy for them.

  Riley found herself thinking about her own future.

  What was in store for her?

  She and Ryan had sometimes been wonderful together. But she was afraid

  that any lasting happiness might be hard won for them, too.

  Would she eventually have a happy retirement with someone she loved?

  Or was she going to wind up alone like Agent Crivaro?

  Riley looked out the window on her side of the truck. The landscape

  outside was unlike anything she’d ever seen, except in pictures. Apart from

  areas where people had built structures and cultivated greenery, this land

  looked lifeless to her.

  Somewhere in a desert setting like this, a young woman had been brutally

  robbed of her life. Had the same monster killed before?

  If so, Riley and Crivaro had to put a stop to his murders once and for all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  As the truck neared the town of Tunsboro, Riley noticed that Jillian was

  getting uneasy again.

  And maybe with good reason, Riley thought.

  The two men in the front seats weren’t talking about road trips and other

  trivia now. Harr
y had turned off his steady flow of inane chatter and gotten

  back to the topic that was most on his mind.

  “You know, I’m starting to come up with a theory about those two

  murders,” he said. “Want to hear it?”

  Riley heard Jillian let out a gasp. She knew the woman must be worried

  that her husband would renege on his promise not to get mixed up in the case

  at the last possible minute.

  Looking irritated, Crivaro just grumbled inaudibly.

  Riley got the distinct feeling that his intended answer was “no.” But Harry

  was clearly determined to talk about his theory anyway.

  “I think—no, I’m almost sure—the killer is a camper, someone who hops

  from campground to campground.”

  “Someone like you?” Crivaro asked wryly.

  Harry chuckled and said, “Yeah, like me except for the years spent

  catching slime like that. But in a way, yeah, you’re kind of right. The killer

  has to be someone who blends right in with the whole campground culture.

  Campgrounds have got to be where he stalks his victims.”

  Crivaro shook his head. “I don’t know, Harry …”

  Harry ignored him and babbled on about his theory. Riley felt as though

  she could understand Crivaro’s skepticism. Even if Harry was right and the

  two murders were connected, that certainly didn’t mean the killer had

  “stalked” anybody. She knew that some murders were spontaneous acts that

  resulted from chance encounters. Besides, wouldn’t most campers travel in

  groups, or at least in pairs? The idea of a psychotic camper prowling the

  nation’s campgrounds seemed a bit farfetched.

  Finally Harry said, “Now, Jake, I don’t want to tell you how to do your

  job, but …”

  Riley could see Crivaro wince at those words. He grumbled again, “It’s

  not actually my job.”

  That didn’t even slow Harry down. He continued, “I think you and your partner should start going to campgrounds, ask the people there a lot of

  questions. Sooner or later you’ll get just the clue you need.”

  Crivaro rolled his eyes, and Riley couldn’t help but sympathize.

  Still not noticing Crivaro’s dismay, Harry kept right on.

  “Mind you, you and your partner can’t just march into a campground

  looking like you do right now. Hell, you’ve got ‘FBI’ written all over you. I

  know campers, and most of them are perfectly friendly, and they’ll talk to

  you no matter who you are. But we do get all kinds of people out there. Some

  of them are more—what’s the word?”

  “Reserved,” Jillian grumbled. “Some of them are just shy.”

  “Yeah, that’s it, shy,” Harry said. “Some of them really like to keep to

  themselves. And if any of those shy ones know anything, they’ll skitter off

  the second they catch sight of you. I guess what I’m saying is, the two of you

  have got to go undercover, pretend to be campers yourselves. You can say

  you’re the girl’s uncle or something like that. Sure, you know how to do that,

  but for here it might be harder than it sounds. First of all, you’ve got to get new clothes, dress more like Jillian and me. And you’ll need your own trailer

  or RV …”

  At that point Crivaro interrupted loudly. “Harry, I can’t go buying a

  camper.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you can rent one,” Harry informed him. “They’ve got

  to be available around here. Just make sure it looks halfway decent, not some

  piece of junk. Some of the better motor home campgrounds won’t even let an

  old or beat-up camper in. I’m sure the Tunsboro police chief can tell you

  someplace where you can find just what you need.”

  Riley couldn’t help but smile a little. The idea of going camping with

  Crivaro and pretending to be his niece seemed silly to her.

  We’d never fool anybody, she thought.

  She realized that Harry’s nonstop advice just showed how excited he was

  about this case. Jillian’s grim silence told her that Harry’s wife was well

  aware of his state of mind.

  As Harry kept rattling on and on about how Riley and Crivaro should go

  about investigating the case, he was driving past golf resorts and dude

  ranches just outside the town of Tunsboro.

  When they pulled into Tunsboro itself, it looked to Riley like an old-time

  Western town that someone had unsuccessfully tried to dress up for modern times. Buildings with square false fronts lined the main street. A row of

  rickety tin porch roofs held up by heavy wooden poles stretched in front of

  the buildings. In spite of some fresh paint here and there, none of it looked

  ready for the soon-to-come year 2000.

  In fact, it was the concrete sidewalk, paved street, stoplights, and

  especially the cars that seemed weirdly out of place.

  Harry parked outside the police station, which was just another old-

  fashioned business front.

  He turned to look at Riley and Crivaro.

  “I don’t suppose Chief Webster will be expecting you. I didn’t say

  anything about contacting the BAU. At least he knows me from talking with

  me on the phone. Maybe I should come on inside with you and—”

  Jillian interrupted sharply. “Don’t even think of it, Harry.”

  Harry looked at his wife with a pleading expression.

  “I’ll just be a minute, honey,” he said.

  “You won’t be just a minute, and you know it. We’re letting your friends off right here, and then we’re going straight back to get our camper and

  driving on to the Coronado Forest. That’s all there is to it.”

  “But honey—”

  “No ‘buts,’ Harry. If you go into that police station, I’m going to take this

  truck and drive right on without you.”

  Harry sighed and forced a laugh.

  He said to Crivaro and Riley, “Well, you heard the missus. Like I said, a

  tight leash. We’ll be going now. Good hunting, you two. And thanks again

  for looking into this.”

  As Riley and Crivaro climbed down out of the truck, she heard Harry

  mutter, “I wouldn’t mind if you’d let me know how things go.”

  “Don’t!” Jillian remarked sharply.

  Riley and Jake stood there and watched Harry and his wife drive out of

  town.

  It felt very strange to Riley to be here, suddenly stranded in the middle of

  this odd little town.

  Crivaro was apparently feeling the same way. He looked at the ground and

  shuffled his feet and shook his head.

  “This is crazy,” he said. “We’ve got no business being mixed up in this.”

  Riley laughed and said, “Well, it wasn’t exactly my idea.”

  Then she felt a possibility taking shape in her mind.

  “Besides,” she added, “for all we really know, Harry’s right about

  everything.”

  Crivaro glared at her and growled, “Well, he’s not right about you and me

  going camping. That’s just too damned ridiculous. We’ve got to draw the line

  somewhere.”

  “I agree,” Riley said.

  Crivaro turned and headed toward the building.

  “Come on, let’s introduce ourselves to the chief,” he said.

  They walked on into the little police station, where a receptionist sent

  them on into the Chief Everett Webster’s office. They found him sitting on


  the edge of his desk talking to another cop. The conversation seemed serious.

  Riley was sure that they were talking about the recent murder.

  When Riley and Crivaro produced their badges and introduced

  themselves, Webster’s mouth dropped open.

  “Good Lord,” he said. “What the hell are you federal folks doing here?”

  Crivaro said, “We understand you found a murdered woman on a hiking

  trail near here.”

  Webster said, “Yeah, but there’s no call for the FBI to come out here

  about that. It’s a local thing and we can handle it.”

  Then he squinted at Riley and Crivaro and said, “Wait just a minute.

  You’re not here on account of that nut job from Colorado, are you? The guy

  who called trying to convince me there was some connection between this

  murder and another one a year ago?”

  Crivaro shrugged. “We’re just here to check things out.”

  Webster shook his head, then said to the other cop, “Wally, could you give

  us the room for a few minutes?”

  Wally nodded and left the office.

  Webster began to pace in front of his desk. He struck Riley as a rather

  unsightly man, with a huge jutting chin and a sloping forehead that made him

  look like some sort of caveman. But his eyes seemed alert and fairly

  intelligent.

  He said to Riley and Crivaro, “Look, I don’t know how that guy talked the

  FBI into sending you two out here, but it really is a wasted trip, and I’m sorry you got put to the trouble. My boys and I can handle this.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Crivaro said in a pleasant voice. “Still, as long as we’re here, maybe you can tell us whatever you know about the murder. We’re in

  the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and it sounded like this killer is kind of

  unusual. We just thought we might be able to help out here.”

  Webster shrugged and said, “BAU? Well, it’s an odd case, I have to admit.

  Brett Parma was the victim’s name. I just got off the phone trying to find out

  more about her.”

  Webster picked up some notes that were lying on his desk and peered at

  them through his reading glasses.

  He said, “It seems she worked as a receptionist in a doctor’s office up in

  North Platte, Nebraska. She came down here for a three-week vacation. She’d

  stayed at the Wren’s Nest Campground near here for a couple of nights, then

  checked out of there on Saturday. That was the last anybody saw of her—at