Once Gone (7 page)

“Agent Paige,” Robert said, introducing her. “Agent Paige, let me introduce my parents, the Senator and his wife, Annabeth.”

Robert offered Reba a seat, then sat down himself.

“First of all,” Riley said quietly, “my deepest condolences for your loss.”

Annabeth Newbrough replied with a silent nod of acknowledgment. The Senator just sat staring forward.

In the brief silence that followed, Riley made a quick assessment of their faces. She’d seen Newbrough on television many times, always wearing a politician’s ingratiating smile. He wasn’t smiling now. Riley hadn’t seen so much of Mrs. Newbrough, who seemed to possess the typical docility of a politician’s wife.

Both of them were in their early sixties. Riley detected that they’d both gone to painful and expensive lengths to look younger—hair implants, hair dye, facelifts, makeup. As far as Riley was concerned, their efforts had left them looking vaguely artificial.

Like dolls,
Riley thought. 

“I’ve got to ask you a few questions about your daughter,” Riley said, taking out her notebook. “Were you in close touch with Reba recently?”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Newbrough said. “We are a very close family.”

Riley noted a slight stiffness in the woman’s voice. It sounded like something she said a little too often, a little too routinely. Riley felt pretty sure that family life in the Newbrough home had been far from ideal.

“Did Reba say anything recently about being threatened?” Riley asked.

“No,” Mrs. Newbrough said. “Not a word.”

Riley observed that the Senator hadn’t said a word so far. She wondered why he was being so quiet. She needed to draw him out, but how?

Now Robert spoke up.

“She’d been through a messy divorce recently. Things got ugly between her and Paul over custody of their two kids.”

“Oh, I never liked him,” Mrs. Newbrough said. “He had such a temper. Do you think that possibly—?” Her words trailed off.

Riley shook her head.

“Her ex-husband’s not a likely suspect,” she said.

“Why on earth not?” Mrs. Newbrough asked.

Riley weighed in her mind what she should and should not tell them.

“You may have read that the killer struck before,” she said. “There was a similar victim near Daggett.”

Mrs. Newbrough was becoming more agitated.

“What’s any of this supposed to mean to us?”

“We’re dealing with a serial killer,” Riley said. “There was nothing domestic about it. Your daughter may not have known the killer at all. There’s every likelihood that it wasn’t personal.”

Mrs. Newbrough was sobbing now. Riley immediately regretted her choice of words.

“Not
personal
?” Mrs. Newbrough almost shouted. “How could it be anything
but
personal?”

Senator Newbrough spoke to his son.

“Robert, please take your mother elsewhere and calm her down. I need to talk with Agent Paige alone.”

Robert Newbrough obediently led his mother away. Senator Newbrough said nothing for a moment. He looked Riley steadily in the eyes. She was sure that he was accustomed to intimidating people with that stare of his. But it didn’t work especially well on her. She simply returned his gaze.

At last, the Senator reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter-sized envelope. He walked over to her chair and handed it to her.

“Here,” he said. Then he walked back to the couch and sat down again.

“What’s this?” Riley asked.

The Senator turned his gaze on her again.

“Everything you need to know,” he said.

Riley was now completely baffled.

“May I open it?” she asked.

“By all means.”

Riley opened the envelope. It contained a single sheet of paper with two columns of names on it. She recognized some of them. Three or four were well-known reporters on the local TV news. Several others were prominent Virginia politicians. Riley was even more perplexed than before.

“Who are these people?” she asked.

“My enemies,” Senator Newbrough said in an even voice. “Probably not a comprehensive list. But those are the ones who matter. Somebody there is guilty.”

Riley was completely dumbfounded now. She sat there and said nothing.

“I’m not saying that anybody on that list killed my daughter directly, face to face,” he said. “But they sure as hell paid somebody to do it.”

Riley spoke slowly and cautiously.

“Senator, with all due respect, I believe I just said that your daughter’s killing probably wasn’t personal. There has already been one murder nearly identical to it.”

“Are you saying that my daughter was targeted purely by coincidence?” the Senator asked.

Yes, probably,
Riley thought.

But she knew better than to say so aloud.

Before she could reply, he added, “Agent Paige, I’ve learned through hard experience not to believe in coincidences. I don’t know why or how, but my daughter’s death was political. And in politics,
everything
is personal. So don’t try to tell me it’s anything else but personal. It’s your job and the Bureau’s to find whoever is responsible and bring him to justice.”

Riley took a long, deep breath. She studied the man’s face in minute detail. She could see it now. Senator Newbrough was a thorough narcissist.

Not that I should be surprised,
she thought.

Riley understood something else. The Senator found it inconceivable that anything in his life wasn’t specifically about him, and him alone. Even his daughter’s murder was about him. Reba had simply gotten caught between him and somebody who hated him. He probably really believed that.

“Sir,” Riley began, “with all due respect, I don’t think—”

“I don’t want you to think,” Newbrough said. “You’ve got all the information you need right in front of you.”

They held each other’s gaze for several seconds.

“Agent Paige,” the Senator finally said, “I get the feeling we’re not on the same wavelength. That’s a shame. You may not know it, but I’ve got good friends in the upper echelons of the agency. Some of them owe me favors. I’m going to get in touch with them right away. I need somebody on this case who will get the job done.”

Riley sat there, shocked, not knowing what to say. Was this man really that delusional?

The Senator stood.

“I’ll send somebody to see you out, Agent Paige,” he said. “I’m sorry we didn’t see eye to eye.”

Senator Newbrough walked out of the room, leaving Riley sitting there alone. Her mouth hung open with shock. The man was narcissistic, all right. But she knew there was more to it than that.

There was something the Senator was hiding.

And no matter what it took, she would find out what it was.

The first thing that caught Riley’s eye was the doll—the same naked doll she had found earlier that day in that tree near Daggett, in exactly the same pose. For a moment, she was startled to see it sitting there in the FBI forensics lab surrounded by an array of high-tech equipment. It looked weirdly out of place to Riley—like some kind of sick little shrine to a bygone non-digital age.

Now the doll was just another item of evidence, protected by a plastic bag. She knew that a team had been sent to retrieve it as soon as she’d called it in from the scene. Even so, it was a jarring sight.

Special Agent Meredith stepped forward to greet her.

“It’s been a long time, Agent Paige,” he said warmly. “Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back, sir,” Riley said.

She walked over to the table to sit with Bill and the lab tech Flores. Whatever qualms and uncertainties she might be feeling, it really did feel good to see Meredith again. She liked his gruff, no-nonsense style, and he’d always treated her with respect and consideration.

“How did things go with the Senator?” Meredith asked.

“Not good, sir,” she replied.

Riley noticed a twitch of annoyance in her boss’s face.

“Do you think he’s going to give us any trouble?”

“I’m almost sure of it. I’m sorry, sir.”

Meredith nodded sympathetically.

“I’m sure it’s not your fault,” he said.

Riley guessed that he had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Senator Newbrough’s behavior was undoubtedly typical of narcissistic politicians. Meredith was probably all too used to it.

Flores typed rapidly, and as he did, images of grisly photographs, official reports, and news stories came up on large monitors around the room.

“We did some digging, and it turns out you were right, Agent Paige,” Flores said. “The same killer did strike earlier, way before the Daggett murder.”

Riley heard Bill’s grunt of satisfaction, and for a second, Riley felt vindicated, felt her belief in herself returning.

But then her spirits sank. Another woman had died a terrible death. That was no cause for celebration. She had wished, actually, that she had not been right.

Why can’t I enjoy being right once in a while?
she wondered.

A gigantic map of Virginia spread out over the main flat-screen monitor, then narrowed to the northern half of the state. Flores tagged a spot high up on the map, near the Maryland border.

“The first victim was Margaret Geraty, thirty-six years old,” Flores said. “Her body was found dumped in farmland, about thirteen miles outside of Belding. She was killed on June twenty-fifth, nearly two years ago. The FBI wasn’t called in for that one. The locals let the case go cold.” 

Riley peered at the crime scene photos Flores brought up on another monitor. The killer obviously hadn’t tried to pose the body. He’d just dumped her in a hurry and left.

“Two years ago,” she said, thinking, taking it all in. A part of her was surprised he had been at this for so long. Yet another part of her knew that these sick killers could operate for years. They could have an uncanny patience.

She examined the photos.

“I see that he hadn’t developed his style,” she observed.

“Right,” Flores said. “There’s a wig there, and the hair was cropped short, but he didn’t leave a rose. However, she was choked to death with a pink ribbon.”

“He rushed through the set-up,” Riley said. “His nerves got the best of him. It was his first time, and he lacked self-confidence. He did a little better with Eileen Rogers, but it wasn’t until the Reba Frye killing that he really hit his stride.”

She remembered something that she’d wanted to ask.

“Did you find any connections between the victims? Or between the kids of the two mothers?”

“Not a thing,” Flores said. “The check of parenting groups came up empty. None of them seemed to know each other.”

That discouraged Riley, but didn’t altogether surprise her.

“What about the first woman?” Riley asked. “She was a mother, I take it.”

“Nope,” Flores said quickly, as though he’d been waiting for that question. “She was married, but childless.”

Riley was startled. She was
sure
that the killer was singling out mothers. How could she have gotten that wrong?

She could feel her rising self-confidence suddenly deflate.

As Riley hesitated, Bill asked, “Then how close are we to identifying a suspect? Were you able to get anything off of those burrs from Mosby Park?”

“No such luck,” Flores said. “We found traces of leather instead of blood. The killer wore gloves. He seems to be fastidious. Even at the first scene, he didn’t leave any prints or DNA.”

Riley sighed. She had been so hopeful that she’d found something that others had overlooked. But now she felt she was striking out. They were back to the drawing board.

“Obsessive about details,” she commented.

“Even so, I think we’re closing in on him,” Flores added.

He used an electronic pointer to indicate locations, drawing lines between them.

“Now that we know about this earlier killing, we’ve got the order and a better idea of his territory,” Flores said. “We’ve got number one, Margaret Geraty, at Belding to the north here, number two, Eileen Rogers, over to the west at Mosby Park, and number three, Reba Frye, near Daggett, farther south.”

As Riley looked, she saw that the three locations formed a triangle on the map.

“We’re looking at an area of about a thousand square miles,” Flores said. “But that’s not as bad as it sounds. We’re talking mostly rural areas with a few small towns. In the north you get into some big estates like the Senator’s. Lots of open country.”

Riley saw a look of professional satisfaction on Flores’s face. He obviously loved his work. 

“What I’m going to do is bring up all the registered sex offenders who live in this area,” Flores said. He typed in a command, and the triangle was dotted with about two dozen little red tags.

“Now let’s eliminate the pederasts,” he said. “We can be sure that our killer’s not one of them.”

Flores typed another command, and about half of the dots disappeared.

“Now let’s narrow it down to just the hardcore cases—guys who’ve been in prison for rape or murder or both.”

“No,” Riley said abruptly. “That’s wrong.”

All three men stared at her with surprise.

“We’re not looking for a violent criminal,” she said.

Flores grunted.

“Like hell we’re not!” he protested.

A silence fell. Riley felt an insight forming, but it hadn’t quite taken shape in her mind. She stared at the doll, which was still sitting grotesquely on the table, looking as out of place as ever.

If only you could talk,
she thought.

Then she slowly began to state her thoughts.

“I mean, not
obviously
violent. Margaret Geraty wasn’t raped. We already knew that Rogers and Frye weren’t either.”

“They were all tortured and killed,” Flores grumbled.

A tension filled the room, as Brent Meredith looked worried, while Bill was staring fixedly at one of the monitors.

Riley pointed to close-up pictures of Margaret Geraty’s hideously mutilated corpse.

“His first killing was his most violent,” she said. “These wounds are deep and ugly—worse even than his next two victims. I’ll bet your technicians have already determined that he inflicted these wounds really rapidly, one right after another.”