CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

 

As soon as she got off the plane, Riley sent a text message to April saying she was on her way home from Quantico. So when Riley pulled up to her townhouse, she knew that her arrival wouldn’t be unexpected.

The trouble was—what should she expect?

Was Jilly still angry with her?

Did Riley have whatever it took to be the good mom and work everything out?

When she walked through the front door, April was right there to meet her.

Riley put down her bag and returned her daughter’s big hug.

Then April wasted no time getting to the point.

“Jilly’s in the family room. You should go talk to her.”

Just as she had been on the phone, April sounded remarkably calm and grown up.

I guess that’s what I’ve got to be too right now, Riley thought, fully aware of the irony of the situation.

As Riley walked through the house, she noticed a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. Riley was curious about what Gabriela might be making, but now was no time to stop and ask.

Riley felt a swell of sadness as she reached the family room. After all, this was where Liam had slept during his short time as a member of the family. And now he was gone.

Jilly was sitting at a table, quietly working on some pages of algebra problems.

Riley sat down facing her.

“Jilly, we’ve got to talk. I—”

Jilly interrupted, looking up from her homework, “No, stop, Mom. Just stop. I’ve got something to say first.”

Riley gulped hard. It sounded like this might be even worse than she’d expected.

Jilly looked her directly in the eyes for a moment.

Then she said, “I’m sorry.”

Riley felt as though she’d been pushed into a cold shower of sheer confusion.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” Jilly repeated.

Riley shook her head.

“No, Jilly, no. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s me. I was wrong. I forgot your birthday. I—”

Jilly interrupted her again.

“Just tell me what you’ve been doing. Since you’ve been gone, I mean. All about the case.”

Riley sighed and shrugged.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter …”

“Just tell me.”

Why does she want to know? Riley wondered.

Jilly certainly seemed sincere about it.

So Riley started telling her younger daughter about everything that had happened, starting with the phone call from Meredith on Saturday. When she started describing the first crime scene, Jilly stopped her again.

“Give me all the details. I want to know what that poor woman looked like.”

“Oh, Jilly, I don’t know.”

“Please. I really, really want to know.”

Riley paused for a moment. Was this some kind of morbid, adolescent curiosity on Jilly’s part? No. Riley could tell by her face and her voice that Jilly really wanted to understand the whole thing—and how Riley herself had felt having to deal with it.

So Riley went ahead and told her all about it, sparing no details—not even from herself.

It was a strange experience, not at all like filling out some formal report—which Riley reminded herself that she still needed to do. This was personal and deep. She was sharing a dark, troubling part of her life that she’d become all too used to keeping private, hidden from everybody except Bill and an occasional therapist. And a curious realization came over her.

I need this.

She’d spent too many years keeping these terrible experiences to herself.

It had been harder on her than she’d realized.

But was this the right thing to do—sharing such horrors with a girl who had just turned fourteen?

But as Jilly kept listening with intense interest, Riley realized something else. Jilly had experienced her own horrors—a childhood so terrible that she’d almost sold her body to escape from it. Jilly was surely better equipped emotionally to deal with the shocking facts of Riley’s work than most adults were.

As Riley got to the part about the ill-fated stakeout, she felt her own frustrations rising again over leaving the case unsolved. But strangely, it felt good to give voice to those frustrations—something she hadn’t even done with Bill or Jenn.

Riley finished her story, and Jilly sat looking at her for a silent moment.

Then Jilly smiled and said, “Thanks, Mom. That’s the best birthday present I could possibly want. And I’m really sorry I made a fuss about things. I shouldn’t have given you something so stupid to worry about when you were dealing with something so important. And anyway, I had a really nice party.”

Riley was stunned. She simply didn’t know what to say.

Jilly tilted her head a little.

She said, “You really don’t get it, do you, Mom? I’ve never in my whole life had anyone to look up to, someone I wanted to grow up to be like. This is a huge change for me. It means more to me than you can imagine.”

Riley’s throat tightened and her eyes started to fill.

Jilly said, “Don’t cry, Mom. Crying’s for wusses.”

Riley brushed away a tear and laughed a little. It felt good to hear Jilly sound like an ordinary teenager again.

Riley said, “Well, no matter what you say, talking about murder and mayhem is not a proper birthday present. I’ll make it up to you somehow. We’ll do something together soon, just the two of us. I promise.”

Jilly looked pleased.

“OK, Mom,” she said. And maybe someday I’ll have something so important to do in my life that I’ll forget your birthday.”

Riley laughed a little.

“Then I guess we’ll be even,” she said. “But I hope it will be something pleasant.”

“Oh, and another thing,” Jilly said. “You’re still going to solve that case. I just know it.”

Riley felt herself tear up all over again. Jilly seemed so sure about it.

She wished she felt the same way.

At that moment April poked her head into the family room a bit cautiously. She took a look at Riley and Jilly, then said, “Gabriela’s got some treats for everybody. Is that OK?”

“Come on in,” Riley said.

April came inside, followed by Gabriela, who was carrying a tray full of freshly baked empanadas de leche—a custard-filled Guatemalan pastry.

“I heard you were coming home,” Gabriela said. “I can heat up dinner leftovers if you’re hungry.”

“Just these will be wonderful,” Riley replied. “Muchas gracias.”

As everybody settled down to enjoy the delicious empanadas, April said to Riley …

“Blaine called yesterday. I guess he wanted to know how the case was going and when you’d be back.”

Riley felt a bit jolted at the sound of Blaine’s name. She’d sent him a brief text during the flight out to Illinois, and he’d texted back wishing her luck. The truth was, she hadn’t given a thought about him since.

Strange, she thought.

She’d not only forgotten Jilly’s birthday—she’d forgotten about her boyfriend.

It was definitely time to settle back down into ordinary life.

 

*

 

After the snacks were eaten, Gabriela went down to her apartment and the girls scattered to their own rooms for bed.

Riley was glad to go to her room alone. She was tired from the long awful day, but she did want to touch base with Blaine.

She typed a text in her cell phone …

 

Hi Blaine—

Solved the case and I’m home.

It’d be nice to see U.

When can we get together?

 

It was fairly late, so Riley hardly expected a reply until the next morning.

But within seconds the text was marked “read,” and Blaine replied …

 

How about tomorrow?

I’ll call you in the morning.

 

Riley smiled.

 

Sounds great!

 

Feeling a bit like a schoolgirl, she put “<3” next to her message—a little heart.

She had hardy set her cell phone down when her house phone rang.

When Riley answered it, she heard a woman’s voice.

“Is this Riley Page? Special Agent Riley Paige?”

Although the woman spoke in a kindly tone, Riley didn’t reply. She knew better than to identify herself to an unknown caller.

“Well,” the woman said cheerfully, “I hope it’s OK for me to call you Riley.”

“Who is this?” Riley finally asked.

A silence fell. Riley almost hung up the phone.

Then the voice said, “I thought it was time we got acquainted.”

Shock ran through Riley’s mind as she realized who she was listening to.

“Aunt Cora,” she said, almost in a whisper.

The woman chuckled and continued, still sounding perfectly friendly. “After all, we’ve both been mentors to a brilliant young woman. I must admit, though, to a certain pang of jealousy that she’s left my nest, and she’s now in your charge. But that’s life, isn’t it? Things change. And it’s healthy that things change. Healthy and natural.”

Riley almost asked …

How did you get this number?

But of course, it was a ridiculous question.

From everything Jenn had said about Aunt Cora, that woman would have no trouble at all tracking down a simple home phone number.

Aunt Cora continued, “I’ve been following that case you’ve been working on. It must be frustrating—getting stymied like that, knowing that the killer is still out there. How are you holding up?”

Riley started to feel a new worry, but Cora seemed to anticipate it.

“Before you get upset … no, Jenn hasn’t been in touch, isn’t reporting to me. She’s being a perfectly good girl, very discreet, loyal to you and the FBI, keeping me at a safe distance. I’m just nosy, that’s all. I like to know what’s going on. And …”

For the first time, Riley heard a slightly sinister sound in the woman’s voice.

“… and I have my ways of finding out whatever I want to know.”

Riley felt an icy chill.

Was Cora in touch with any of the local cops Riley had dealt with? Or someone with the railroad police? Or the Chicago FBI?

Or all of them?

Riley couldn’t imagine the extent of Aunt Cora’s criminal web.

Cora continued, sounding as warm as before.

“Such horrible murders, so shocking. Not so shocking to you, I don’t suppose. But do you ever get used to it? Do you have any idea what drives someone to do such ghastly things?”

Riley said nothing. She wondered what to do.

Just hang up?

No, something told her that she’d want to hear whatever this woman had to say.

The voice on the phone went on, “You meet some interesting people working on a case, don’t you? I hear you’ve met a nice widower. So sweet, so lonely. Any sparks between you? Any possibility of romance? Well, I suppose he’s a bit old for your taste …”

Riley’s stomach felt uneasy at the obvious reference to Mason Eggers.

The woman knew a lot—too much for Riley’s comfort.

Cora continued, “I’m sure you hope you’ve seen the last of that young railroad cop. Such an obnoxious character, isn’t he? Can’t keep his hands to himself. Doesn’t treat women with proper respect. I wonder. A man who harasses female colleagues like that—it makes you wonder, what else might he be capable of?”

She knows about Cullen too, Riley realized.

But she determinedly kept her silence.

Finally, in a sweet, chirping voice, Aunt Cora said, “Well, I’m so glad we had this pleasant little chat. Let’s do stay in touch. I always want to know how dear little Jenn is doing. Such a remarkable girl!”

Aunt Cora abruptly ended the call.

Riley sat there with the phone in her hand, feeling completely baffled.

Cora had said …

“Let’s do stay in touch.”

… but she hadn’t told Riley a thing about how to reach her.

Not that Riley wanted to know.

It was surely best for her not to know.

But why had Aunt Cora contacted Riley?

A “pleasant little chat,” she had said.

It certainly hadn’t been pleasant at all for Riley.

But surely Aunt Cora had called with some purpose in her mind.

Riley began to replay the one-sided conversation over and over in her head.

Little by little, an idea started to take form in her mind. There was something she should look up, something she’d never checked on because it had never seemed even remotely relevant.

Her heart beat faster as she turned on her computer and ran a search.

In a matter of moments, she’d found an old newspaper clipping with a photo.

Riley gasped aloud.

I know who he is.