CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next morning, Riley had no idea that everything was about to change. She was sitting in her hotel dining room drinking coffee, nibbling on a Danish, and feeling pretty defeated.

She was sure the murders of Andrew Farrell and Julian Morse were connected, probably committed by the same man. But Meredith had made clear to her yesterday that she was still on her own. Without official support, how could she follow up on her suspicions?

Should she approach Chief Stiles again, try to persuade him to contact the FBI and make this an official case? He surely knew about the murder in Birmingham, but he had never mentioned it to her. What would he do if Riley brought it up with him?

Probably just remind me that Morgan Farrell confessed, she thought.

Regarding the resemblance between the two murders, Riley guessed that Stiles would either chalk it up to coincidence or theorize that Morgan had deliberately copied the other murder.

Besides, there was one really big reason why contacting Stiles was a bad idea.

I lied to him about why I’m even here, Riley remembered. Why should I expect him to trust me now?

She wondered if she and Ruhl should have returned to Atlanta from Birmingham so hastily yesterday. Maybe she should have talked to the Birmingham police chief after all. Maybe she could have told him the truth about why she was there, asked him to allow her to investigate purely on her own.

Maybe she should drive back to Birmingham.

Or …

Maybe I should just give up and go back home, she thought.

She wished her partner, Bill Jeffreys, was here.

He’d surely know what to do.

Maybe she should give him a call. Or maybe she should call her other, younger partner, Jenn Roston.

Then she sighed as she thought …

And get them mixed up in this mess?

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Meredith had shown considerable restraint in letting Riley continue to pursue the two cases on her own time. He’d be furious if Riley turned to any other FBI sources, especially Bill or Jenn.

As she mulled all this over, her phone buzzed. Riley growled under her breath when she saw that the call was from Jared Ruhl.

She’d dropped him off at his apartment building last night after they’d gotten back from Birmingham. She’d been careful not to say anything to suggest that their “partnership” was anything other than a one-day thing.

I guess he doesn’t see it that way, she thought.

She took the call and was startled by the joy in the young cop’s voice.

“Hey, Agent Paige! I’ve got great news! There’s been another murder!”

“What are you talking about?” Riley demanded.

“It happened over in Monarch, just about thirty miles east of Atlanta. An old rich dude by the name of Edwin Gray Harter got killed in his hot tub.”

Riley snapped, “And you call that good news?”

With a gleeful chuckle Jared added, “He was stabbed multiple times. That makes three rich men murdered in the same way within two hundred miles of each other. Now don’t try to tell me they’re all a coincidence!”

Riley’s brain clicked away as she tried to process what she was hearing.

No, it sure didn’t sound like a coincidence.

Still, she felt a bit queasy over Jared’s delight at another death.

“When did it happen?” Riley asked.

“Just last night. The body was found no more than an hour ago.”

Riley could hardly believe her ears.

An hour? she thought.

The murder could hardly be all over the Internet yet. Riley doubted that the media had even started to cover it.

“How did you find out so fast?” she asked.

“I’ve got my sources,” Jared said.

“Sources? What the hell sources are you talking about?”

With a slight whine, Jared said, “Agent Paige, do we have to talk about all that now? We don’t have much time. The cops there are expecting us.”

Riley gasped aloud.

“What do you mean ‘expecting us’?”

“Naturally I got in touch with the Monarch police chief. I told him we were on our way, because it was now an FBI case.”

“But it’s not an FBI case!” Riley almost yelled.

“Why not? With three murders, shouldn’t it be? Oh, and I told the chief to keep the crime scene undisturbed—especially the corpse. Was that smart of me or what?”

Riley was nearly sputtering now.

“Jared, you shouldn’t have called there until after you’d talked to me. Actually, you shouldn’t have called at all. You should have let me make the call.”

“Why? I figured time was of the essence.”

Riley didn’t know what to say. The truth was, it probably was a good thing he’d called right then, if it meant the crime scene would remain undisturbed.

At the same time, Jared couldn’t keep on making calls and decisions like that on his own.

But how am I going to stop him? she wondered.

Sounding more and more excited, Jared continued, “I called into the station here in Atlanta, and I said I’m taking a sick day. Don’t worry, I’ve got lots of them saved up. So. Who’s going to drive us to Monarch? I’ve got a car, but I’ve been having some trouble with it lately, and I can’t guarantee it’ll get us there and back. You’ve still got that rental car, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Riley said wearily. “I’ll come and pick you up right now.”

She ended the call. As she finished her coffee and Danish, she wondered …

Why can’t I just tell that guy to get lost?

She really wasn’t sure. But the truth was, he wasn’t entirely useless. He’d had a few good insights yesterday, and now, somehow or other, he had found out about a new murder. And the truth was, Riley probably wouldn’t have traveled here at all if it hadn’t been for his first phone call telling her of his doubts that Morgan Farrell was a killer.

So despite how irritating and troublesome he generally was, Riley figured …

I guess I’d better not dump him—yet.

As she left the hotel and went out to her car, she thought …

Another murder.

She’d been right all along.

But she couldn’t get smug about it. Now she had a new case to solve. And whether or not it was officially her case, she had to solve it before anyone else was killed.