CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Riley adjusted her overnight bag on her shoulder as she and Ann Marie approached the Pineview Motel.
After the intensity of their discovery at Quayle Hill—an empty grave waiting for a body that never arrived and their visit to the top of that tower—she felt the weight of the day acutely.
Tomorrow would bring fresh angles, new insights.
But tonight, she needed a clear head and, hopefully, a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” Ann Marie observed.
Riley glanced at the single-story building with its row of numbered doors. “Chief Autrey said it’s clean. That ‘s all I care about right now.”
The motel office was in a small addition at the end of the building, marked by a humming vending machine and a desk lamp visible through the window. Riley pushed open the door, setting off a tinny electronic chime.
The night clerk, a middle-aged woman with reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, looked up from her paperback novel. “Evening, ladies. Checking in?”
“Yes,” Riley said, placing her FBI credentials on the counter. “We need two rooms, please. I think Chief Autrey might have made reservations for us. “
The woman’s eyebrows rose slightly as she examined the credentials. “Got a regular convention going, huh?” She tapped at an ancient computer keyboard. “Your colleague checked in about an hour ago. Room 14.”
“Captain Hodge is already here?” Ann Marie asked.
“Tall fellow, state police? Said you’d be coming along.”
After filling out the necessary paperwork and receiving their keys—actual metal keys attached to plastic tags, not keycards—Riley and Ann Marie headed back outside.
“We need to check in with Hodge,” Riley said. “I want to know what he found out from McLaughlin.”
They made their way along the concrete walkway, past numbered room doors and window units humming steadily against the summer heat. They found room 14 at the far end of the row. Riley knocked three times on the door.
“It’s Paige and Esmer,” she called.
Footsteps approached from inside, followed by the click of a lock. Captain Travis Hodge opened the door, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Behind him, Riley could see case files spread across the bed.
“Not much in the way of luxury, but it’ll do for a night,” he said, stepping aside to let them enter.
The room was basic but functional—queen bed with a faded floral bedspread, desk with a lamp, TV that looked at least fifteen years old. The air conditioner rattled in the window, pushing cool air into the stuffy space.
“Did you speak with Corey McLaughlin?” Riley asked, cutting straight to the point as she sat in one of two chairs by a small round table.
Hodge nodded, collecting some papers from the bed and dropping into the other chair. Ann Marie perched on the edge of the desk.
“Not much he could tell me that we didn’t already know,” Hodge said. “He was on a rural delivery route when he saw a plume of smoke. He went to look, and found a campfire. Since no one was around, he put the fire out. He was attacked as he got back to his vehicle.”
“Any description at all of the attacker?” Ann Marie asked.
“Average height, athletic build, strong. McLaughlin thinks it was a man in his twenties or thirties, but he can’t be sure. The guy was masked, and McLauglin was fighting for his life.” Hodge rubbed his eyes.
Riley frowned. “So, no glimpse of his face at all?”
“Afraid not,” Hodge said. “And the attack happened on an isolated stretch of road with no security cameras or witnesses. McLaughlin’s just lucky he got away. From what we know about our killer, he wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”
Ann Marie shifted on the desk. “Another shallow grave would have gotten a tenant.”
“Speaking of which,” Hodge said, “what did you two find up at Quayle Hill?”
Riley exchanged a glance with Ann Marie before answering. “We found what we were looking for—a freshly dug grave near the fire lookout tower. Empty, but definitely prepped recently.”
“Tony Bartlett was planning to bury McLaughlin there,” Ann Marie added. “When McLaughlin escaped, Tony had to change his plans.”
Riley kept to herself some of her deeper impressions—how the hill and the tower must have held special significance for Tony and his twin brother, how she could almost feel the killer’s frustration at having his ritual disrupted when McLaughlin escaped.
“Did McLaughlin mention if his attacker said anything to him?” Riley asked.
“Nothing at all,” Hodge replied. “Apparently the attacker took his gun. He dropped it during the confrontation.
***
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Ann Marie asked, stifling a yawn.
Hodge gathered his notes into a neater pile. “I want to go to the scene of McLaughlin’s attempted abduction, see if the local police missed anything. Then maybe another looks around at that fire tower, now that we know it’s significant.”
Riley shook her head slowly. “You should do that, Captain. But Ann Marie and I need to take a different direction.”
Both Hodge and Ann Marie looked at her, waiting.
“I think we need to go to Hartsfield,” Riley told them. “That’s where Jay Bartlett died in his climbing accident five years ago.”
“Why Hartsfield?” Hodge asked. “Why now?”
“Because I think the key to understanding Tony is finding out more about what happened to Jay. Something about Jay’s death broke Tony, and I want to know more about those circumstances. More details than we have in the reports.”
“Raven’s Leap Cliff,” Ann Marie said, recalling the location from their case notes. “That’s where the accident happened.”
Hodge looked skeptical. “We’ve got good leads here in Westminster. And now that Chief Rawley’s team found Amanda Lindeen’s body by the Talomaska River, there’s work to be done back in Talomaska Crossing too.”
“I know,” Riley said firmly. “But I think there’s more to learn about the beginning of this. It isn’t just about where Tony is now—it’s about why he’s doing this.”
The captain studied her for a moment, then sighed.
“A while ago, I might have argued with you, Agent Paige. But I’ve learned that you have unusually good instincts.
” He glanced down at his records, then added, “I’ve already contacted state headquarters with instructions to find the most recent photograph of Tony Bartlett that can be found and issue a statewide APB for him.
I’ll be working the Westminster angle and I’ll coordinate with Rawley on the Lindeen investigation.
You two should follow your lead in Hartsfield. ”
Riley was grateful for his trust. “Thank you.”
“Just keep me posted,” Hodge added. “And be careful. This guy’s proven he can be unpredictable.”
They wrapped up their discussion shortly after, then Riley and Ann Marie headed to their assigned rooms. Rileys was number 8, halfway down the row. The room was a mirror image of Hodge’s—same faded bedspread, same dated fixtures, but clean as promised.
She set her bag down on the bed and took out her cell phone. One bar of service. Enough to make a call. She dialed home, and after two rings, Bill’s voice came through the line.
“Hey,” he said warmly. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
The sound of his voice eased some of her tension. “Just checked into a motel in Westminster. Glamorous FBI life.”
“How’s the case going?” he asked.
Riley gave him a brief summary of what they’d discovered—the empty grave at Quayle Hill, their plan to visit Hartsfield tomorrow.
“Sounds like you’re making progress,” Bill said. “Any special hits on this case?”
“I felt some connections with the twins when we went up a watch tower. They’d spent time there and it was important to them. But it didn’t tell me anything about where the killer is now.”
“Following his past might give you what you need.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Riley agreed. “How are things at home?”
“Fine here. April just got home from her night class. She wants to talk to you, actually.”
There was a rustling sound as the phone changed hands.
“Mom?” April’s voice came through, sounding hesitant.
“Hi, honey. Everything OK?”
“Yeah, um...” April paused. “I just wanted to tell you that Ethan is back from Philadelphia. We talked, and we’ve made up.”
Riley felt a twinge of motherly concern. “That’s good. I’m glad you worked things out.”
“Yeah, me too.” April’s voice brightened. “I was thinking maybe I could bring him by sometime? So, you could meet him?”
The request caught Riley by surprise. April had never offered to introduce a boyfriend to the family before. “I’d like that,” she said carefully. “When I get back from this case, we can set something up.”
“Great!” April sounded genuinely pleased. “Be safe, OK?”
“Always am,” Riley promised. “Love you.”
“Love you too. Here’s Bill again.”
Bill came back on the line. “Everything all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” Riley said. “Interesting that April wants to introduce her boyfriend to the family.”
“That’s new,” Bill agreed. “Must be getting serious.”
“Maybe.” Riley wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “I should get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”
“Call when you can,” Bill said. “Good night, Riley.”
“Good night.”
After ending the call, Riley set her phone on the nightstand and began her nightly routine. She laid out fresh clothes for tomorrow, organized her notes for the morning, and took a quick shower in the bathroom’s cramped stall.
As she settled into bed, her mind drifted between the two worlds she inhabited—the one filled with shallow graves and cryptic messages from killers, and the one where her daughter wanted to bring home a boyfriend.
The contrast never ceased to unsettle her.
How many times had she gone from discussing murder to discussing mundane family matters in the span of a single conversation?
It was like living with one foot in the darkness and one in the light. Most people never had to navigate that divide, never had to compartmentalize the way she did. Bill understood it because he lived it too. It was one of the countless threads that bound them together.
She switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness except for the faint glow of lights outside the curtained window. In the quiet, she could hear the steady hum of the air conditioner and, beyond that, the occasional passing car on the nearby highway.
Tomorrow she and Ann Marie would drive to Hartsfield and visit Raven’s Leap Cliff, where Jay Bartlett had fallen to his death five years ago.
She would stand where Tony had stood, look down at the same rocks that had claimed his brother’s life, and try to understand how that moment had transformed grief into a compulsion to kill.