CHAPTER THIRTY
Riley watched Ann Marie’s retreating figure disappear into the apartment building, then checked the time on her dashboard. Just after six. She’d make it home in time for dinner.
The case was closed. Sheriff Rich had actually clapped her on the shoulder, a gesture so unexpected that Riley had nearly flinched.
Captain Hodge’s approval had been more restrained but equally meaningful.
Dana Beaufort had repeatedly texted profound gratitude, variations on the same theme: Thank you for saving my life.
I can’t ever repay you. Riley didn’t need repayment.
The knowledge that Dana was alive—that was enough.
The booking process had been mercifully straightforward. Tony Bartlett had been docile, almost relieved, as they processed him into the system. His hands had trembled slightly as they took his fingerprints, his face a mask of exhaustion that only cracked when he spoke about his brother Jay.
“He shouldn’t resist counsel,” Ann Marie had said as they watched him being led to his cell. “His lawyer kept trying to shut him up, but he just kept talking.”
It was true. Despite his attorney’s increasingly frustrated objections, Tony had laid out the entire story—the good luck charm that never arrived, the twisted communications he believed he was having with his dead brother, the elaborate codes leading to his victims. He spoke with the clarity of someone explaining basic mathematics, as if the logic of his actions should be apparent to anyone listening.
During the five years since his brother’s death, he had essentially disappeared, assuming a false identity, supporting himself with odd jobs, and spending his nights planning the elaborate rituals that would become murders.
What struck Riley most was the sheer loneliness of it all.
Tony had cut himself off from every human connection, conversing only with the brother who existed in his fractured mind.
For five years, he’d lived this half-life, propelled forward solely by his twisted mission.
Despite everything—the blood, the bodies, the lives cut short—she couldn’t help feeling pity.
Tony Bartlett had lost more than his twin brother on the day Jay died.
He’d lost himself, too, leaving behind only this broken vessel filled with rage and delusion.
Tony’s lawyer had already floated the possibility of an insanity plea, and for once, Riley couldn’t find fault with the strategy.
The man truly believed he was acting in collaboration with his dead brother.
The psychological evaluations would confirm what was already obvious to everyone who’d spent more than five minutes with him—Tony Bartlett’s grip on reality had broken the day he’d learned of his twin brother’s death.
“The world isn’t divided neatly into monsters and heroes,” she murmured to herself, recalling something Bill had told her years ago.
Riley signaled to exit the highway. Ten minutes and she’d be home, stepping into the warm chaos of her family—Gabriela’s cooking, Jilly’s latest school drama, April’s college stories, Bill’s steady presence.
A world apart from the cold, silent existence Tony Bartlett had carved out for himself in the wake of his loss.
The pity followed her all the way home.
*
When Riley pulled into her usual parking space in front of the townhouse, lights glowed warmly in the windows.
She knew that Gabriela was likely putting the finishing touches on dinner right now.
As she gathered her bag and locked the car, she noticed an unfamiliar sedan parked next to her slot.
A visitor? Who might be joining them tonight?
The answer came as soon as she stepped inside. Laughter drifted from the dining room—April’s distinctive giggle, Jilly’s louder cackle, and a male voice she didn’t recognize. The smell of Gabriela’s famous paella filled the air, mingling with the scent of fresh bread.
“Mom’s home!” Jilly called out as Riley set her bag down.
She walked into the dining room to find chairs crowded with people. Bill waved at her from the head of the table. April beamed, her arm hooked around the chair of a young man Riley had never seen before. Her homecoming seemed to be everything she’d expected, plus someone new.
“Hey, Mom,” April said, her voice bright. “This is Ethan.”
The boy—no, young man, Riley corrected herself—stood from his chair. He had an open, easy smile that showed no sign of discomfort at meeting his girlfriend’s family for the first time. Riley was struck by how composed he seemed, how completely at ease.
“Ethan Parker,” he said, extending a hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mrs. Jeffreys.” He gave Bill an apologetic shrug. “Or should I say Agent Paige?”
“Riley’s fine,” she said, shaking his hand while wondering exactly how much April had spilled about her life—about all their lives. “Welcome.”
“Welcome, Ethan,” she said, returning his smile. “I see you’ve already met everyone.”
“He’s been telling us all about his art,” Bill said from his spot at the table, his expression warm but his eyes watchful. Riley knew that look—he was assessing, just as she was.
Gabriela emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming platter. “Ethan has good manners,” she announced, as if this settled everything. As she slipped into her own chair at the table, she added, “And he cooks, he says. He’s been telling me some recipes.”
Riley raised an eyebrow as she took her seat. Gabriela’s approval wasn’t easily earned.
“He’s got a grandmother in Philadelphia,” Jilly informed her. “She had a heart attack, but she’s doing better now. And he does all kinds of computer stuff remotely. And he can draw and paint anything.”
Ethan ducked his head, appearing slightly embarrassed by Jilly’s enthusiastic summary. “It’s not that impressive,” he said. “Just freelance IT work to pay the bills while I try to build a portfolio.”
“Well, now you have to start all over telling me about yourself,” Riley said, settling into her chair. “I want to hear everything.”
“My life isn’t that interesting,” Ethan replied, his eyes flicking to April with unmistakable fondness. “April mentioned you just solved a major case. That sounds much more fascinating.”
Riley noticed how skillfully he had deflected attention away from himself. A subtle maneuver, but one that registered nonetheless.
“Well, we tracked down a serial killer who was encoding the locations of his victims’ bodies,” Riley began, watching Ethan’s reactions carefully. “He was using an elaborate system of letter pairs to hide GPS coordinates.”
“Was he targeting specific victims or choosing at random?” Ethan asked, leaning forward with interest.
The question was insightful—too insightful? Riley found herself wondering how much April had already told him about the case, or whether Ethan had been following news reports.
“Delivery drivers,” she answered. “He blamed them for his twin brother’s death five years ago because a package wasn’t delivered on time.”
The conversation continued and Riley watched as Ethan charmed her family throughout dinner, drawing Jilly out about her school projects, discussing cooking techniques with Gabriela, asking Bill thoughtful questions about his career path. He seemed perfect—almost too perfect.
Riley silently resolved to run a thorough background check on Ethan Parker first thing Monday morning.