CHAPTER EIGHT

As Riley followed Powell down the hall along with the other FBI agents and Bull Cullen, she wondered …

A witness? Are we really going to get a break this fast?

Years of experience told her that it wasn’t likely.

Even so, she couldn’t help hoping that this time might be different. It would be wonderful to wrap this case up before anyone else was killed.

When the group arrived at a small meeting room, a stout woman in her fifties was pacing inside. She wore heavy makeup and her hair was an unnatural shade of blond.

She hurried toward them. “Oh, this is awful,” she said. “I saw her picture on the news a little while ago, and I recognized her right away. Such a horrible death. But I had a feeling about her—a bad feeling. A premonition, you might even call it.”

Riley’s hopes sank a little.

It usually wasn’t a good sign when witnesses started talking about “premonitions.”

Bill guided the woman to a chair.

“Sit down, ma’am,” he said. “Take it easy and let’s start from the beginning. What’s your name?”

The woman sat down, but she just fidgeted in her chair.

Bill sat in a nearby chair, turning it a little to talk with her. Riley, Jenn, and the others also took chairs around the meeting room table.

“Your name?” Bill asked again.

“Sarah Dillon,” she said, giving him a wide smile. “I live right here in Barnwell.”

Bill asked, “And how did you know the victim?”

The woman looked at him as if surprised at the question.

“Well, I didn’t actually know her. We exchanged words on occasion.”

Bill asked, “Did you see her this morning—before she was killed?”

Sarah Dillon seemed more surprised than before.

“No. It’s been a couple of weeks or more since I last saw her. Why does that matter?”

Riley exchanged glances with Bill and Jenn. She knew they were all thinking the same thing.

A couple of weeks or more?

Of course it mattered a great deal.

When Powell had said a witness had shown up, Riley had imagined someone who either knew the victim personally or had seen something truly material to the case—the actual abduction, perhaps. Still, she knew that they needed to follow up on every possible lead. So far, they had nothing else to go on.

Riley said, “Tell us about your interactions with the victim.”

Sarah Dillon scratched her chin.

“Well, I’ve seen her around town. Occasionally, I mean. In stores, on the streets. Also at the train stations, both here and in Chicago. I take the train to Chicago every week or so, to see my sister and her family there. I’ve seen her getting on or off the train, either here or in Chicago. Sometimes we’ve been in the same car together.”

Sarah Dillon’s eyes darted about for a moment.

Then she asked in a near-whisper, “Do you think I’m in any danger right now?”

The woman was striking Riley as less coherent by the moment. She didn’t know how to answer her question. Why did the woman imagine she might be in danger? Did she have any good reason to worry at all?

Offhand, Riley doubted it. For one thing, she’d gotten a good look at the corpse at the crime scene, and she’d seen a photo online of the other victim. Both women were slight of build and dark-haired. Their faces were somewhat similar. If the killer was obsessed with a particular type of victim, this much more robust woman certainly didn’t fit it.

Riley asked, “What information do you have?”

Sarah Dillon squinted.

“Information? Well, maybe not information exactly. But a strong feeling—really, really strong. Something was very wrong about that woman. I’ve known it for a while now.”

“How so?” Jenn asked.

“Once, on the train up to Chicago, I tried to strike up a conversation with her. Just small talk, the weather, the kind of day I’d had, my sister in Chicago and her family. She seemed friendly enough at first. But she started getting standoffish when I asked her about herself. I asked her, ‘What do you do in Chicago?’ She said she went there to visit her mother, who was in a nursing home.”

Sarah Dillon fingered her purse nervously.

“Then I started asking questions about her mother—what her health was like, how long she’d been in a home, that kind of thing. She started getting defensive, and in a few minutes she didn’t want to talk to me at all. She got out a book and pretended to read it, like I wasn’t even there. Whenever I’ve seen her on the train since then, she does the same thing—acts like she’s never met me. I just thought she was rude, standoffish. But now … well, I’m sure it was something else.”

“Like what?” Jenn asked.

The woman let out a grunt of disapproval.

“Well, you’re the people in law enforcement. You tell me. But she was hiding something. I’ll bet she was mixed up in something illegal. Something that got her killed. And now …”

She shivered all over.

“Do you think I’m in any danger?” she asked again, peering nervously around the room.

“Why would you think that?” Bill asked.

Sarah Dillon looked like she could hardly believe the question.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? There were other people on that train. Lots of people. None of them are exactly friendly these days. And ever since I talked to her, I’ve noticed some of them looking at me strangely. Any one of them might have been the killer. She didn’t tell me what she was mixed up in, I don’t know anything about it. But the killer doesn’t know that. He might think she actually told me something—something he doesn’t want me to know.”

Riley suppressed a sigh of impatience.

She said, “I really doubt that you’re in any danger, Ms. Dillon.”

The fact was, Riley was quite sure of it. The woman was paranoid, pure and simple.

“But you don’t know that,” the woman said, her voice growing more shrill. “You can’t know for sure. And I’ve got such a terrible feeling. You’ve got to do something. You’ve got to protect me.”

Chief Powell got up and patted her gently on the shoulder.

“You wait here for just a moment, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

The woman nodded, then sat silently. She looked as if she were on the verge of tears.

The police chief quickly returned with a uniformed policeman.

He said to the woman, “This is Officer Ring. He’ll watch after you for a while. Right now, you should just go home. Officer Ring will make sure you get there safely.”

The woman let out a gasp of relief. She got up from her chair and left the room with the policeman, gazing happily up at him as he held the door for her.

Bill shook his head and said to Chief Powell, “What are you going to do? Give her round-the-clock protection? Because that’s just going to be a waste of time and resources.”

Powell chuckled slightly.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Landry Ring has got a calming effect on people. He’s almost uncanny that way. That’s why I picked him to take her home. By the time they get there, I’ll bet Landry will have her convinced that she’s in no danger at all.”

Jenn was frowning.

“That sure was a waste of time,” she said.

Maybe, Riley thought.

But she had a nagging gut feeling about what the “witness” had just said …

“Something was very wrong about that woman.”

… and …

“She was hiding something.”

Riley sensed that Sarah Dillon might not be altogether wrong.

She asked Powell and Cullen, “Did Reese Fisher have any family members living here in Barnwell?”

Powell said, “Just her husband, Chase. A local chiropractor.”

“And has he been interviewed?”

“Of course,” Bull Cullen said. “Chief Powell here and I both talked to him. He’s got a clean alibi—he was in his office this morning when it happened.”

“I want to talk to him again,” Riley said.

Cullen and Powell glanced at each other with surprise.

Powell said, “I’m not sure what good that will do. He’s pretty shaken up about all this.”

Riley wasn’t sure what she expected to find out. But if Reese Fisher was harboring some sort of secret, her husband might be able to tell them what it was.

“I want to see him,” Riley insisted. “Right now.”