Chapter 19
Jem stared at the blond woman. She was hugging herself now, blinking rapidly, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“What I said: someone’s following me. I know it sounds crazy. My gosh, the police think I’m crazy. But I’m not.” She took a breath like she was trying to steady herself, but the next words came out even more frayed. “I’m not.”
“What’s happening?” Tean said.
“There are a few different vehicles. That’s why I didn’t notice at first. I’m not sure if it’s one person switching cars or if there are multiple people.”
Behind him, Jem felt Tean tense. Multiple, Jem thought. And he knew Tean had thought the same thing.
“What are we talking about?” Jem asked. “Cars? Trucks?”
“A couple of trucks. And an SUV—an older model.”
And Jem’s mind skipped backward to Ammon’s story about the truck following Daniel. About the man who’d tried to get into the LGBTQ youth center.
It might have been a coincidence. It could have been a coincidence.
“What?” Tean whispered. “What is it?”
Jem shook his head, but he said, “All right. You noticed them following you?”
“Yes. About a week ago. A little more, maybe. Say, ten days. And I think because they were switching vehicles, it might actually have started before that.”
“Two weeks,” Jem said.
“Maybe.”
“How did you notice them?”
“The driver—” River paused. “One of the drivers, anyway, I don’t know.
He cut somebody off in traffic to follow me when I turned.
You can’t help noticing an asshole like that.
It’s a big black truck, dinged up. There are a lot of trucks in Utah, but I’m a journalist. My whole job is to notice details.
The same truck was at the back of the Smith’s parking lot that night.
I was walking out with my groceries. Almost dropped a gallon of milk because I couldn’t believe it.
” She laughed, and she managed to unfold her arms and shove her hands in her pockets.
“I thought I was crazy. I couldn’t sleep.
My husband probably wanted to kill me because I kept getting up and looking out the windows.
And I didn’t see the truck that next day. ”
“But you noticed someone else,” Jem said. “Because you were keeping an eye out for that black truck.”
“The SUV,” she said. “And later that day, a blue Ford pickup.”
“All right,” Jem said. “You definitely got someone interested. What’d you do?”
“I don’t know.” It was half protest, half despair. “I was just working on this story. It’s still an ongoing investigation, so the police won’t talk to me about it. That’s fine. I like the work. I’m good at digging things up.”
“You definitely dug something up,” Jem said.
“Are we sure about this?” Tean asked. “Are we sure that’s what this is? Couldn’t it be someone from another story you did?”
Jem shook his head.
“What story?” River said. “I do local news. A lot of reporting on the church. A lot of stuff on marginalized communities. That was kind of the angle that got me into this one—that boy, the one who was kidnapped, and his Young Men president who was molesting him. I do a true crime podcast with a friend, and this would have been our biggest story by far, but it’s not like I’m doing investigative journalism on the mob. ”
She was talking about Daniel. And about the dead man that had gotten Jem and Tean into this whole mess.
“What did you do two weeks ago?” Jem asked.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking about,” River said. “That’s what I can’t figure out. I must have done something to—to get on their radar.”
“No, you did something to scare them. And that pissed them off.”
“But I don’t know what I did! I didn’t do anything. It’s not like I tracked this guy down wherever he’s hiding—”
“It’s more than one,” Jem said. “There are four or five of them. We’re not sure how many exactly. Three, at the least, who are the most dangerous.”
“The police said they’re looking for Rydel’s accomplice—” River began.
“They said that because they want to believe this is all one easy thing, and they’re looking for one person, and it all makes sense. But it doesn’t make sense. And it’s not one person. It’s five.”
“Oh my gosh,” River whispered. “Oh my gosh.”
“It has to be something from two weeks ago,” Tean said. “What do you remember? Anything might be important, even if it seems small.”
“Little stuff, like you said. I’m an independent journalist. I drive around. I talk to people. I pull archives, government documents. It’s not like I’m going undercover.”
“Who did you talk to? Where did you go?”
“People in South Jordan. People in Draper. Neighbors, you know? The Young family won’t talk to me, won’t let me talk to their son, but there are plenty of people in their ward who are willing to chat.”
Jem didn’t have any doubts about that. Mormon congregations were geographic, and in a place like Utah, a ward might consist of only a few blocks.
All of those neighbors had witnessed those October events from more or less a front-row seat.
They would have had plenty to say to a pretty White lady who knew how to make them feel important.
“That’s all?” Tean asked.
“No, I did what you said. The yearbook stuff.” She gave a laugh. “That kind of thing is actually really popular with true crime audiences.”
“You went out to the Uinta Basin?”
“Of course. That’s where he grew up. I talked to a few teachers who still remembered Rydel.
And then I saw where he grew up. You wouldn’t believe what that place is like.
It’s not like they had any close neighbors, but I did talk to some people in the area.
Very different from South Jordan, by the way. Those people wanted to be left alone.”
Jem shot a silent question over his shoulder at Tean.
The doc’s bushy eyebrows were drawn together, and a hint of frustration showed through his usual reserve. “I don’t know,” Tean finally said.
To River, Jem said, “Somebody said something to you. Or you saw something.”
River’s voice sharpened when she said, “What? Nobody told me anything. They said Rydel was strange. Big surprise—he grew up to be a serial killer. The yearbook pictures are what you’d expect: a boy who looks very unhappy.
The neighbors—the ones who would talk to me—told me they never really knew him because that family kept to itself.
” She drew a breath. “I can’t stop thinking about it.
If someone’s following me, it’s because they don’t like me poking around. But why? I didn’t learn anything.”
“These guys don’t know that, though,” Jem said. “Even if they did, I’m not sure they’d care. They think you’re a threat; that’s what matters.”
River let out a frustrated sound. It faded. And then they stood there with nothing but the hum of the ventilation system.
“You still haven’t told us why you followed us,” Tean said.
“I thought—” River paused. “I thought you might know something.”
“Know what?” Jem asked.
“I don’t know. Some of the Youngs’ neighbors knew you’d been involved in the investigation. They knew you’d found the Youngs’ son. And that means you were in that house. And you knew—I don’t know. Who it was. Who was following me.”
Jem stared at her. Then he said, “Nice try.”
“That’s the truth!”
“Sure, but it’s not all of it.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“If you’re scared, you show up on our doorstep.
You knock on our door. You say, ‘Someone’s following me, and I think you might be able to help me,’ and you tell us this whole story.
You don’t follow me when I leave work. You sure as fuck don’t follow us up into the mountains, come inside, and stare at us across the bar. ”
She hesitated. And then she said, “It’s going to be a good story.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jem said.
“You don’t understand. Nobody’s talking about this because the police have shut it down.
The news ran with it for a little while.
It was the headline for a week. And all they talked about was this serial killer, and the boy who’d been rescued, and then it was over—the next thing, and we all move on. ”
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Jem told her.
“There’s still a killer out there, and nobody cares that he got away.
Killers, plural, if you’re telling the truth.
And you two are the only ones who have seen them and walked away from it.
That’s the kind of stuff that’s not just a YouTube story or a podcast; it’s a book.
It’s got ‘made for TV’ written all over it. ”
Jem spat on the concrete and shook his head. He said over his shoulder, “Let’s go.”
“You said there’s more than one of them. Aren’t you worried about what they might do? Don’t you feel any sort of responsibility? The police are acting like it’s nothing—like it’s all under control. But it’s not under control. Don’t you care about any of that?”
“Sorry, you lost me when you got those dollar signs in your eyes.”
“Why? What’s so wrong with wanting to do my job? With wanting to tell this story? I’m a human being. I care about these people who have been hurt; that’s why I started doing this job. I shouldn’t feel bad about wanting to make a living at it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jem could see Tean shaking his head. “Sorry, lady,” he said. “You’re on your own. And just for the record: no comment. Leave us alone. Stop following us. And if you break into my room again, my boyfriend will beat you up.”
Tean cleared his throat. “He’s joking about that part.”
“Nope. Not even a little bit.” He turned, taking Tean’s arm to start him walking up the ramp, and shot back, “Oh, and don’t worry about the car, by the way.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
Jem glanced back. River had clamped her mouth shut, but one corner trembled. Her eyes were bright, and she was hugging herself again.
“What?” Jem said.
She laughed, but it sounded wet, and swept one hand out at the SUV. “This joke or stunt or whatever it is—it’s sick.”
Under Jem’s hand, Tean’s arm was rigid.
Jem stopped, gave him a silent squeeze, and turned around. River moved back a pace, wiping her eyes and shaking her head—her expression now mixed anger and what might have been annoyance. Jem made sure to keep her in sight as he came around the SUV.
He hadn’t noticed until then that the hood was up, but that detail only registered at the edge of his awareness because his gaze was fixed on the writing on the side of River’s car—two rows of letters that ran across the windows and the doors.
DIE
BITCH
The words had been written in some rust-brown—
Oh. Shit.
“That’s blood,” Jem said. “Isn’t it?”
Tean didn’t answer. The harsh white of the fluorescents made his eyes bruised and sunken behind the glasses, and he was breathing hard through his nose.
Jem slipped into the parking stall and glanced under the hood. He didn’t know a ton about cars, but he knew if you cut enough hoses and belts and wires, you could make sure they weren’t going anywhere.
“It’s them,” Tean whispered. “They’re here.”