CHAPTER FOURTEEN
April stared at her open textbook, the words blurring before her eyes.
Her highlighter hovered uselessly above a paragraph she’d read three times without absorbing a single word.
From somewhere downstairs came the aggressive hum of the vacuum cleaner—Gabriela’s cleaning assault on the living room carpet.
The familiar sound should have been comforting, a slice of normality in a world that had spun off its axis.
Instead, it only underscored the wrongness of everything.
Because Jilly should have been here, sprawled on the floor beside her, complaining about algebra and stealing April’s snacks. But Jilly was gone.
The vacuum shut off abruptly, then silence. April could picture Gabriela down there now, scrubbing surfaces that were already spotless, trying to impose order on chaos.
Yesterday morning, they had all eaten breakfast together. Jilly had stolen the last piece of bacon right off April’s plate while April was reaching for the orange juice.
And now she was just... gone.
“Useless,” April muttered to herself, slamming the textbook shut. What was the point of Advanced European History when her sister was out there somewhere, scared or hurt or—
No. She wouldn’t let her thoughts go there.
She stood up and paced the length of her bedroom, her sock-feet quiet on the carpet.
Her mother was out there doing everything possible to find Jilly.
Bill was with her. The full resources of the FBI were deployed.
There were officers stationed around their house, supposedly for protection.
April knew her mother well enough to understand they were also there to keep an eye on her—to make sure she didn’t do something stupid.
Like what? Like trying to help find her own sister?
April paused at her window, staring out at the ordinary day. The sun shone as if nothing were wrong. A neighbor walked his dog past their house, glancing curiously at the police cruiser parked across the street.
Her phone buzzed on the desk.
Sighing, she reached for it, expecting another brief, uninformative text from her mother.
Unknown: Hi April.
She froze in place. No one else had this number. It was new—they’d all gotten new phones after the first threatening messages from Leo. Only family and a few close friends had this number.
A second buzz.
Unknown: Aren’t you talking to me, April? I thought we were friends.
Her hands trembled as she stared at the screen. Leo. It had to be. The thought of him having her new number made her feel violated.
She remembered what Jay Mathers had told them yesterday when he’d set up the new phones. “I’ve mirrored all your devices,” he’d explained. “Any communication coming in or going out will be captured in real time. If he makes contact, we’ll know immediately.”
Which meant Mathers was already seeing these texts. The FBI was tracking this conversation. She didn’t need to call anyone or raise an alarm.
But what should she do? Ignore him? Engage?
Another buzz before she could decide.
Unknown: I’m hurt by your silence. I was hoping for a little conversation.
April’s jaw clenched. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. What would her mother do in this situation?
She would try to get information.
April: Where is my sister?
The reply came instantly, as if he’d been waiting with his phone in hand.
Unknown: Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think you were ignoring me. How rude would that be?
April: Tell me where Jilly is.
Unknown: She’s safe. For now. She reminds me of you, you know. Same fighting spirit. Same defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. It’s admirable, really.
April: If you hurt her, I swear to God—
Unknown: Threats don’t become you, April. You’re more sophisticated than that. Or at least, that’s what your file suggests.
April’s stomach lurched.
Unknown: Oh yes, I know all about you. Your interests. Your traumas. Especially that unfortunate business with Samuel Peterson a few years back.
The name hit April like a physical blow.
The room around her seemed to recede, replaced by memories she’d spent years trying to bury: the rough wood against her back, splinters digging into her skin.
The damp, dark space beneath the deck. The smell of earth and mold.
The sound of Peterson’s voice, the hissing of the blowtorch as he brought it closer to her face, the heat of it searing her skin without touching it.
Her legs gave out, and she sank onto the edge of her bed. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
Unknown: I touched a nerve, didn’t I? My apologies. Truly. What he did to you was unconscionable.
April forced herself to breathe deeply, the way her therapist had taught her. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Count to four. She wouldn’t let him do this to her. She wouldn’t let him pull her back into that darkness.
April: What do you want?
Unknown: Just a pleasant conversation. Is that so much to ask? I’ve been fascinated by your mother for quite some time. The way she thinks. The way she works. The way she killed Peterson to save you. Quite dramatic, wasn’t it? The struggle in the water? The way your mom took him out with a shotgun?
April felt sick. How did he know these details? The case files were confidential.
Unknown: I’ve always wanted to see that place, you know. Where it all happened. Where your mother became a killer to save her child. It’s romantic, in a way. Would you take me there someday, April? Show me where it happened?
She stared at the screen. The very thought of returning to that place made her body go cold all over again. She couldn’t answer. Wouldn’t.
After a moment of her silence, he texted again.
Unknown: Guess not. Well, I’ll find it on my own. Give your mom my best wishes.
The thread went silent. April stared at the screen, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The implication in his message was clear.
He was going there. To the place where her mother had killed Peterson.
And if Leo knew what had happened there, he knew much more about their family than anyone had realized.
Her hands shaking, April hit the call button on her mother’s contact. This wasn’t something that could wait for Mathers to notify them. Leo was on the move, and he was headed somewhere deeply personal to their family. Somewhere April had sworn she would never return to.
The phone rang once. Twice.
*
Riley watched as the forensics team combed through the dilapidated house, their methodical movements a stark contrast to the chaos around them.
Dust motes swirled in the shafts of sunlight that cut through broken window blinds, illuminating years of neglect and filth.
She stood in what passed for a living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, as if physically holding herself together.
Every second spent here was a second not spent finding Jilly, but she knew this place might hold some key to understanding Leo—and that could lead to her daughter.
“They’re not finding much,” Bill said, coming to stand beside her. His presence was solid, reassuring. A counterbalance to the precarious tilt of her world.
“Because there isn’t much to find,” Riley replied, frustration sharpening her tone.
She glanced toward the kitchen, where Smitty sat hunched at a scarred table, a female officer sitting across from him.
The man looked small, diminished—a far cry from the raving, terrified figure they’d encountered upstairs.
The sedative the paramedics had administered had calmed him, but it had also dulled whatever insights he might have provided.
“We’ve asked him everything we can think of,” Bill said, following her gaze. “Names, dates, places. He either doesn’t know or can’t articulate it.”
“Leo chose him specifically because of that,” Riley said, bitterness threading through her words. “A mentally impaired homeless man who’d be grateful for shelter and who couldn’t provide coherent testimony.”
A social worker had arrived fifteen minutes ago, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and practical shoes who’d immediately assessed the situation with a professional calm that Riley envied.
Now she was talking quietly with Smitty, explaining what would happen next.
The man nodded occasionally, his weathered face blank with either acceptance or incomprehension—Riley couldn’t tell which.
“Social services will place him in appropriate care,” Bill said, reading her thoughts. “He’ll be safe.”
“Safe,” Riley echoed hollowly. “Unlike my daughter.”
Bill didn’t offer empty reassurances, and Riley was grateful for that. Instead, he asked, “What does this place tell you about Leo?”
Riley forced herself to focus, to look at the scene as an investigator rather than a desperate mother.
“That he’s methodical. Patient. He acquired this property and prepared it for Smitty’s use. He cultivated Smitty’s trust, creating a narrative where he’s the benevolent protector.”
“Money doesn’t seem to be an issue for him,” Bill observed. “Maybe Grandpa’s money was enough. Or maybe he’s found another source of funding.”
Riley nodded absently.
“Ma’am?” The social worker approached, clipboard in hand. “We’re ready to transport Mr. Smith to the evaluation facility now.”
Riley nodded. “Thank you. If his condition improves enough for further questioning...”
“I’ve noted that law enforcement should be notified, yes.” The woman’s eyes softened slightly. “I understand this is connected to a kidnapping case?”
“My daughter,” Riley said, the words like glass in her throat.
The social worker’s professional composure cracked momentarily. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure any information he provides reaches you immediately.”
As Smitty was led toward the waiting vehicle, he suddenly stopped and turned, his rheumy eyes finding Riley’s with unexpected clarity.
“He said you’d come,” Smitty said, his voice reedy but distinct. “He said you’d follow the trail right to his door, just like he wanted.”
Riley took a step forward. “What else did he say, Smitty? Where is that door?”
But whatever moment of lucidity had gripped him was already fading. He shook his head, mumbling something unintelligible as the social worker gently guided him toward the van.
“He’s playing with us,” Riley said once they’d gone. “Making sure we follow his twisted path exactly as he’s planned it.”
Bill’s expression darkened. “Then maybe it’s time we stopped playing by his rules.”
“Agreed. But how—”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the vibration jolting her. Every call, every text since Jilly’s abduction carried the potential for breakthrough—or catastrophe. She pulled it out, expecting Mathers or Hogue with an update.
April’s name flashed on the screen.
A cold fist gripped Riley’s heart. “It’s April,” she said to Bill, then answered, “April? What’s wrong?”
Her daughter’s voice came through in a panicked rush. “Mom, Leo just texted me.”
“What? How did he get your—”
“I don’t know! But he knows things, Mom. Things about us—about what happened with Peterson.”
The name transported Riley instantly to that rain-slicked deck where April had been held captive, then to the desperate struggle in the water. To the moment she’d become a killer to save her child. And the way her daughter had actually helped …
“Slow down,” Riley said, forcing calm into her voice. “Tell me exactly what he said.”
As April recounted the exchange, her words proved that Leo knew about Peterson. Knew intimate details of what had happened that night. Had expressed interest in visiting the place where it had occurred.
“He said he’d find it on his own,” April finished, her voice cracking. “Mom, I think he’s going there. I think he’s taking Jilly there.”
“Listen to me,” Riley said firmly. “Stay in the house. Do not leave for any reason. There are officers outside.”
The call ended, and Riley turned to find Bill watching her, his expression grave.
“Leo contacted April,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “He mentioned Peterson and the place where...” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to. Bill knew what had happened that night. Knew what she’d done to save her older daughter.
“He’s going there?” Bill asked, already moving toward the door.
“He implied as much,” Riley said, following him. “The question is whether he’s already there—”
“And whether he has Jilly with him,” Bill finished grimly.
If Leo was indeed heading to the site of Peterson’s death, it represented a twisted pilgrimage in his obsession with Riley. A place where she had killed to protect her child.
What did he intend to do there with Jilly?