Dead River (16 page)

“Well, what’re you waiting for? Take your pajamas off and come to bed.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Clara settled into the large elevated oak bed and pulled the covers over her, then lifted up the other side so David could climb in beside her. The brisk winter night air left the upstairs rooms chilly. As David’s body touched the bed he felt the coldness of the mattress. His mother covered him with the white sheet and thick blanket.

David knew what was coming next, and he didn’t like it. But yet he did like it. He was confused. Was this really wrong?

But the way she touched him made David feel good. However, he knew it shouldn’t. This is wrong. David hated his mother for this, and it had to stop. He had to make her stop.

 32

ADAM PULLED THE RECEIVER from the wall cradle in the kitchen and keyed in Glenn Wilkerson’s number. He looked up at Annie Roo, her face white and drawn. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

“Detective Wilkerson.”

“This is Adam Riley! He just called here!”

“Who called?”

“The killer! The goddamn son-of-a-bitch is still calling!”

“Jesus Christ! I don’t believe this. What did he want?”

“He wanted to talk to my wife.”

“He wanted to talk to Dawn, too,” Annie Roo whispered.

“Yeah, he also wanted to talk to Dawn! What’s this guy doing? Does he want to destroy my entire family?”

“I don’t know what he’s doing, but you need to tell me everything he said.”

Adam rustled his hair and then rubbed his face. “Okay, look, let me think a second here. My sister-in-law, Ruth, answered the phone, then I talked to him.”

“Then put her on first.”

“She told me what he said. Let me think back.”

“Okay.”

“He told her he wanted to speak to Valerie, but Ruth told him Val wasn’t available. Then he wanted to talk to Dawn. But she wouldn’t put her on. From what she told me, it sounded like he got pissed.”

“Anything else?”

Adam glanced at Annie Roo. “Yes, there was something. He gave her a riddle. Kind of a poem and riddle.”

“What was it?”

Adam threw his head back and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds then slowly looked back down. “If you wake up and the sun doesn’t rise, will it be day or night? Will you be wrong or right? Or something like that.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know. You’re the detective.”

“If you wake up and the sun doesn’t rise, will it be day or night?” Wilkerson whispered into the phone. He paused.

“Will you be wrong or right?” Adam added.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to pass it on up to someone else and see what they come up with.”

“Then he told me he wanted us to—” Adam stopped and leaned against the kitchen counter. Several seconds passed.

“Mr. Riley, are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Just a second.”

He wiped his eyes on the shoulders of his shirt and looked over at Annie Roo. She had a Klennex and was dabbing at hers.

“He wants us to forgive him he said,” Adam continued. “He said he had to do it. Someone told him he had to kill her. The sick bastard!”

Annie Roo moved closer to Adam and reached for his arm.

He pushed off the counter and stood up, then stared straight ahead. “He gave her a choice how she wanted to die.”

Annie Roo slapped her hand over her mouth and gasped.

“He said he couldn’t do it with the pillow, so he strangled her,” Adam shouted. “The sick, twisted bastard strangled her.” Adam beat the countertop with his fist. Once, twice, three times. Pain shot from his hand up his arm.

“Adam, stop!” Annie Roo yelled, pulling on his arm.

“Mr. Riley, try to settle down.” Wilkerson pleaded.

Adam finally dropped on the barstool and lowered his head, the phone still pressed to his ear.

“Mr. Riley, hold on for a few minutes while I call Agent Goldman. I’ll call you back right away, okay?”

There was silence on the line. “Okay?” Wilkerson asked again.

“Yes,” Adam whispered.

Goldman was still steaming after talking to Wayne Chang earlier. The ESDA wouldn’t be available for two more days, and Shumberger wouldn’t return his calls. And now this was the second time he had to cancel his flight. He couldn’t get back to Quantico for even one day.

“Say that again,” Goldman demanded.

“If you wake up and the sun doesn’t rise, will it be day or night?” Wilkerson said. “Will you be wrong or right?”

Goldman scratched his head then cracked his neck. “Got it.”

“What?” Wilkerson blurted.

“I know what it means. If you wake up and the sun doesn’t rise, will it be day or night. Most people get up when the sun’s rising or already risen, so if the sun doesn’t rise and it’s morning, then there’s no dawn. Didn’t you say he wanted to talk to Dawn?”

“Yes. Oh shit! He’s after Dawn Riley now.”

“Now you got it.”

 33

WILKERSON SPUN AROUND in his swivel chair and plopped his feet down on the edge of the lower desk drawer that was hanging open. He listened to Goldman pontificate, wondering if this is what a big-time New York City detective had to deal with. Big cases, a constant string of unsolved homicides, a captain breathing down your back. For him at the moment, that captain was FBI Special Agent Douglas Goldman. But he only had one major case right now, and so far it was big trouble for him and everybody associated with it, which included all of central Florida. A killer was on the loose; a crafty, calculating, deranged one, who appeared to have an insatiable appetite for prey. However, contrary to profiles of other killers, this one didn’t want to be caught.

“Damn it, the wiretap on the Riley line shouldn’t have been pulled!” Goldman roared.

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” Wilkerson protested. “It was Detective Averly’s idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call him. The wiretap needs to be set back up immediately.”

“I agree.”

“And I’ll call Mr. Riley, too. Probably stop by later to see him.”

Detective Averly seldom worked weekends. When he was off, he took advantage of his time. That usually involved an intimate encounter with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a ball game on ESPN. Today he was getting a late start. The funeral threw him off his schedule.

For six years now he’d been a bachelor. Maryann left him over irreconcilable differences: she wanted him sober and he wanted her to shut up about his drinking.

“What you are doing?” Averly shouted from the doorway of their bedroom.

“I’ve had it with you,” Maryann said, as she threw a handful of wadded-up pantyhose into the beat-up, hard-shell Samsonite suitcase. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“Where will you go?”

“Does it matter?”

“Damn right it does.”

“Right, sure, since when did you care about me?” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

And so it was from that day on, Robert Rupert Averly was again a single man. It took time to adjust, but he soon settled into his new routine. It was a simple one. When he wasn’t on the clock he drank his Tennessee whiskey and watched his beloved Magic, Dolphins, and Marlins. As pathetic and depressing as his life was, it was still his.

“I don’t want anymore excuses, just get the wiretap set up at the Rileys,” Goldman ordered.

“Okay, I’ll call Peter Carillo and have him over there this evening,” Averly said, as he set down his glass of brown liquid, the ice cubes clinking against the sides of the glass. It was his second drink, and the buzz was just around the corner.

“There’s something else.”

“What’s that?”

“An idea. I think we may be able to set a trap for this guy.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s obvious the killer is now focusing his attention on Dawn Riley.”

“Yeah, the if you wake up and the sun doesn’t rise thing.”

“That’s right. I want to take advantage of this. Lure him in using Dawn Riley.”

“Jesus Christ, the parents won’t go along with that.”

“Leave that to me, I’m going over to see Mr. Riley as soon as I hang up with you.”

“What’s the trap?”

“A simple one. You’ve seen Dawn Riley.”

“Yeah.”

“She could almost pass for Sara Ann’s twin sister.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“I want to rekindle the fascination the killer had for Sara Ann using Dawn, force him to act rashly, without his usual precaution.”

“But how?”

“Use the local television stations. Set up a press conference with Dawn. She’ll be standing in front of her house, holding a personal item of Sara Ann’s, like a teddy bear, while she makes a plea to the community for information to help capture the killer. Just like that show Most Wanted in America.”

“A teddy bear?”

“Yeah, sexual predators are often attracted to personal items of their victims. It could be the hook we need. She can say it belonged to her sister, and then make a plea to the community, ask that if anyone knows anything about the death of her sister to contact the police. We could even have her style her hair like Sara Ann wore hers, and maybe even have her wear some of Sara Ann’s clothes.”

“Then what?”

“Then the killer will have an uncontrollable desire to call the Riley residence and talk to Dawn. Then we trace the call.”

“Are you sure you can convince the Rileys to go along with this?”

“Hell no, I’m not sure.”

“It could put her at great risk.”

“What the fuck. Don’t you think I know that?”

“Okay, okay. When would you do this?”

“Tomorrow or Monday.”

 34

GOLDMAN EASED HIS rental car up the Rileys’ driveway and parked in front of the expansive two-story brick house. He had the air conditioner on full blast the entire trip from Orlando. He opened the car door and stepped out, the humid air instantly engulfed him, fogging his sunglasses.