Claire knocked on Riley’s door for the third time when she heard a door open downstairs.
“She’s not home,” a woman’s voice called out.
Claire peered over the railing at the twenty-something sporting a beret. She bet this was the coffee lending neighbor, and she took a chance she might be equally as generous with information. “We were supposed to meet here. Do you happen to know where she went?”
Beret cocked her head like she was thinking. “Not sure, but she had the bag she takes when she goes out to draw.”
“Thanks.” Claire stood on the landing contemplating her next move. She wanted to go home and shower and eat and sleep, but she knew none of those things would be fulfilling until she talked to Riley and explained what had gone down today. They’d served the warrant and found a whole lot of nothing. The dog wasn’t there when they showed up, and Frank’s roommate told them it was his sister’s and he’d only been keeping it for a few days. Bruce had still insisted they send dog hairs they found in the house to Reyes for testing, and he’d talked the DA into filing a motion to delay Frank’s hearing pending the outcome. Claire wanted Riley to hear about it from her first, but she’d have to find her to make that happen.
She was walking back to her car, when her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen, hoping it was Riley, but it was Nick. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Probably nothing, but that Jensen guy just called me. It was kind of weird. He said he was supposed to meet up with Riley today at his place for an art lesson, but she stood him up.”
Claire knew how he felt. “So? She’s an adult. If she decides to blow him off, I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do about that.”
“That’s the thing. He said her SUV is parked at his apartment complex. She was supposed to meet him there and they were going to the boat slip together. Something about sketching the sunset on the water. He sent her a few texts, but she hasn’t responded. I guess she decided to go on her own, but I figured I should let you know. You want me to go by there and check it out?”
“No, I’m not home yet. I’ll go by.” Claire told herself it was probably nothing. She fired off a text to Riley and turned in the direction of the lake. The car Jensen had seen was probably one that looked like Riley’s or Riley had decided to go to the boat slip alone. Still, she zipped toward her destination, grateful for the light weekend traffic. When she reached Jensen’s apartment complex, she slowed down and cruised the parking lot, looking for Riley’s SUV. She spotted it on her first pass, parked in a visitor’s spot. She touched the hood and it was cool. She circled the car, scouting for any signs of foul play, but there was nothing to indicate anything other than Riley had left her car parked here without incident.
The simplest explanation was that Riley had walked down to the boat slip on her own, but Jensen had been so certain they’d had plans, he’d called Nick to report that Riley hadn’t shown up. Riley didn’t strike her as the kind of person who’d no-show on a friend, and Claire sensed something was off. She pulled out her phone. Riley hadn’t responded to her first text, but she fired off another anyway, staring at the screen after she hit send, praying for a quick response. When the phone rang in her hand, it almost startled her into dropping it.
“Hey, Nick. I just got here. Her car’s here, but no sign of her. Any word from Jensen?”
“No, he was going to head down to the boat slip to see if she was there, but I told him to wait for you. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. We just got those background checks back from Lexis. Nothing out of the ordinary on Jensen, but we got several hits on that older guy Warren Spencer. His daughter, the one we saw in the wedding photos at his house? She was murdered about a year after she got married. Bruce and Danny were the detectives on the case, but it went cold.”
“Okay. That’s unfortunate, but I’m not sure how it relates to these murders.”
“I’m not sure it does, but Warren gave interviews to several news outlets at the time of Frank Flynn’s trial. The MO in his daughter’s death was almost exactly the same as Linda Bradshaw. He was convinced Flynn killed Amy—that’s his daughter—and he was pissed Flynn was never charged in Amy’s death.”
Claire gripped the phone, convinced Nick was on to something. “You said the case went cold. They never charged anyone?”
“Nope. And Warren was real sore about it at the time. Just think how angry he might be after all these years.”
“Especially, when he sees Frank has a daughter who’s alive and well.” Claire started walking toward Jensen’s apartment, as a sour dread coursed through her. “It’s no coincidence Warren joined the Eastside Sketchers. I bet he wanted to get close to Riley.” Which is exactly what she wanted to do, as quickly as possible. “I’ll call you back.” She beat on Jensen’s door with her fist, not caring if his neighbors thought she was being obnoxious. She raised her hand to knock again, but the door opened before she could connect, and she almost fell forward at the momentum. Jensen held an arm to steady her.
“She hasn’t shown up,” he said before she could ask. “I know it’s silly of me to worry. I know she’s slightly older than those women who’ve been murdered, but I figured it was better to tell you and let you decide if I’m overreacting. I honestly didn’t expect you to come down here.”
Claire wanted to strangle him by the time he paused, and she blurted out her question before he could say more. “Who else knows you were meeting her today?”
Jensen looked confused at the question. “No one. I mean, no one I know of.” He tapped his chin. “Wait a minute. Warren was sketching right next to us when we made our plans, but—”
Claire’s insides turned to ice at the sound of Warren’s name and she cut Jensen off. “Have you sketched at the boat slip before?”
“Yes, a couple of times. Riley likes this little spot by the old filter building.” He fished his phone out of this pocket and started thumbing through photos. “I’ve got a picture of the view from there.”
She tossed him a card, already on the move. “Cell number’s on the back. Text it to me. Now. Tell Nick that’s where I went.”
“I can come with you.”
“No. Call Nick.” Claire dashed to her car and sped out of the parking lot and onto Garland Road, resisting the urge to pull out her lights and siren. One of two things was happening. Either Riley was sketching a sunset on the side of the lake or Warren Spencer was exacting some kind of twisted revenge. She knew in her gut it was the latter, and her best chance of stopping him would be the element of surprise. She turned right on the road on the other side of the spillway and navigated her way toward the boat slip, parking well back from the lake to walk the rest of the way to the filter building and checking to make sure her gun was loaded before she stepped out of the car and started walking toward the water.
Her phone buzzed and she slipped behind a tree. She turned the sound off and pulled up Jensen’s text with the photo of the view he’d promised. She could see why Riley preferred this particular spot, it was tucked away from the walking and biking trails, yet it provided a full panorama of the sun’s colors kissing the lake. She drew closer, treading softly, praying she’d find Riley sitting by the water, sketching the beautiful view and wishing she’d taken the time today to tell her she couldn’t stop thinking about her, not in the context of a case, but about how Riley made her feel like a different person. Like a whole person who was allowed to want a life beyond the badge, and a lover to share it with. But not just any lover. Claire wanted Riley with her special way of seeing so much beauty in a world in which she often saw only ugliness. Riley, the tender lover, who stirred feelings in her she thought she’d never have.
Bruce could take his promotion and shove it if she could just find Riley safe and sound.
* * *
Riley woke to the sound of water lapping against the shore. She was sitting on the grass, her back to the water, with her hands bound behind her and her feet tied at the ankles. Her throat was tight and sore, her head hurt, and she was nauseous, but all of that seemed trivial in comparison to the gun pointed at her face.
“You’re awake,” Warren said. “Good.”
She tried to speak, to ask him what was going on, but a croak was all that came out. He shook the gun. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing you have to say that I want to hear. I hear enough of it from your pals Jensen and Buster. ‘Riley is such a great teacher. Riley has her own art show.’” He scowled. “You have no idea how lucky you are to be alive.”
Once again, she tried to talk, desperate to ask what was going on, but even more desperate to cry for help. She concentrated on blurting out a one-word question, settling on “What?” It sounded more like “ut,” but he seemed to understand.
“My Amy was robbed of the ability to live her life to the fullest and you’re about to find out what that’s like. I only regret that your father isn’t here to see me take from him what he took from me.”
Riley wondered if he’d hit her in the head, because nothing he said made any sense, but he didn’t seem to care if she understood. He started circling her, looking at her from different angles as if she were a model he was about to sketch. On his third pass, her haze gave way to realization. She didn’t know why, but she knew he’d stolen her drawings and left them on the bodies of the women he’d killed. Panic pulsed through her and she forced herself to breathe slowly. She had to think clearly, or she would be his fourth victim. Any minute, he might snap, and her life would be over—no good-byes to her friends, no gallery debut, no Claire. Her story couldn’t end like this, especially not when she’d just discovered what it was like to let another person in. The scary roller coaster of emotions that came from being vulnerable enough to experience falling in love. Falling in love—words she never thought she’d say about herself, but now that she’d allowed the feeling to surface, she knew that’s what was happening with Claire, and that’s why everything Claire did affected her so deeply.
She saw Warren backing up farther and holding up his hands as if to frame her in his sight. No, her story couldn’t end like this. She had to fight for her life, for the chance to love and be loved. For Claire.
“Warren Spencer, put the gun down.”
Claire. Riley snapped her head to the right searching for a sign of her in the brush. When she caught Warren watching her, she shifted to the left to try to throw him off. It didn’t work. He trained his weapon in the direction where Claire’s voice had sounded.
“Go away or I’ll kill her.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to try and kill her anyway, so I think I’ll stay right here.”
Riley smiled. She hadn’t expected Claire to be deterred by a madman, but she was determined to help. She wrestled against the rope that held her in place.
“Stop that,” Warren shouted as he closed the distance between them. “You’re messing up the scene.” He whirled around, pointing the gun at her, at the trees, and back at her. “Stop moving.”
He was too close to her now. She needed to get him to move farther away. She cleared her throat and struggled to speak. “Okay, but I need something to lean on.” She nodded toward a thick tree branch lying several feet away. “Put that behind my back.”
He laughed. “Right.” He bent down and yanked the rope binding her wrists. Out of the corner of her eye, Riley could make out a shadow moving through the trees and prayed it was Claire coming toward them, but she’d have to act right now to give Claire a clean shot. Warren’s hand was still on the rope and she jerked her hands out of his grasp and simultaneously pushed up from the ground, launching her body backward and toppling him over with a loud thud.
He clawed at her back, trying to shove her away, but she kept up the awkward assault, digging in her heels and pushing back against him, determined to keep him off his feet. She felt him scramble for purchase and she heard a metal click and remembered his gun. Claire should show up to save her any second, but quicker than that she might be dead for reasons she still didn’t understand. Her life couldn’t end like this, full of unspoken truths. She needed more time. Time to heal her relationship with her father. Time to tell Claire she loved her. Propelled by a combination of fury and desire, she summoned every ounce of strength she could muster and hurled her body into Warren’s again. She saw the gun fly through the air at the same time she heard Claire’s voice shouting her name. When she looked up, Claire was standing over Warren who lay sprawled on the ground, her gun pointed at his chest.
“Riley, are you okay? Can you move farther away from him?”
She answered with a grunt and rolled away, keeping Claire and Warren in her sight.
“Claire, are you okay?”
Riley turned her head for a second, long enough to see Nick running toward them. She watched him take Claire’s place, and a second later, Claire dropped to her side and started working to free her. She forced the words to come. “You came,” she whispered.
“Of course, I did,” Claire said, tugging at the rope that held her hands. When they were free, she pressed them gently to her face. “I was scared I’d be too late.”
“It’s okay.”
“No. There are things I want to say. Important things.” Claire glanced over at Warren, and Riley followed her gaze. Nick still had him at gunpoint, but she understood they needed to get him secured so they would all be safe.
“Go. Tell me later.” Claire started to get up, but Riley motioned for her to come close. When Claire’s ear was next to her mouth, she whispered the one thing she wanted Claire to know no matter what happened with Warren or her father or her own future. “Love you.”
Claire leaned back so Riley could see her face. She wore a broad smile and tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. “Love you, too.”