Chapter Eighteen
Things were looking up. But Smuggler’s Bay was still a mess. People were still recovering from their injuries. Callum Riggs had yet to be caught. And there was still a serial killer out there somewhere.
Because the town was on edge, Brent Cody let the FBI and ATF handle the marina explosions while his team focused on catching Riggs. It made sense, especially since he believed that Riggs had detonated devices that set off the fires allowing him to kidnap Alice. The three agencies were essentially looking for the same man but with increased manpower.
During the hunt, rumors spread like wildfire. As law enforcement combed through leads, Brent’s team followed up on tips from concerned citizens. One claimed Riggs had been spotted near the lighthouse on the cliff overlooking town, but that turned out to be a false alarm.
Brent knew only one thing: Riggs had not returned to his home in Los Gatos, a mere fifty-minute drive from Pelican Pointe. The FBI had staked out that location for days, but there had been no sign of him coming home. As long as he remained free, the town would continue to feel threatened.
But thanks to information from Lake and Linus, Brent learned that Callum Riggs had served in the Army as a munition specialist, a man more than capable of building his own explosive devices.
As people tried to go about their business as usual, whispers circulated about the killer’s next move. The speculation made for sleepless nights. Trying to piece together clues became a twenty-four-seven effort. And Brent knew things wouldn’t get back to normal until they’d captured Callum Riggs.
Since Alice’s abduction, Brent had felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Even as he led his team through the labyrinth of clues and dead ends, each false lead felt like a step backward, a taunt from the elusive fugitive.
He spent his evenings gathered around a cluttered conference table strewn with case files that belonged to the Sheriff’s Department but had been shared out of necessity, gruesome crime scene photographs of the remains found under the bridge, and takeaway cartons from lunch and dinner. As each new piece of information became known, he would tack it to the whiteboard behind him. But nothing new had come to light for almost forty-eight hours. Not even from the posters they had put up around town. It was beginning to look like Callum Riggs had vanished into thin air.
On Saturday night, after his shift ended at nine, Linus met Lake at the pier for a long walk around the harbor. The crumpled boats from the explosion had been lifted out of the water and carted off to a junkyard on the other side of town, and the bay looked less blackened by the fire. Yet, a smoky odor from burned metal and wood remained in the air.
“It’s been a crazy week,” Linus noted as he plopped down on one of the benches. “Not that it matters under the circumstances, but Eastlyn postponed the cookout for a later date.”
“With everything going on, that’s probably a good idea.”
“I tried to get away sooner so we could at least watch the sunset together. But it’s been a three-hour marathon of overtime since six o’clock. Everybody seems to think they’re having a heart attack when it’s nothing more than a bad case of indigestion.”
“That’s gotta be a good thing, right? Indigestion versus heart attack,” Lake quipped as she joined him on the bench, handing him the cup of coffee she’d brought. Looking across the bay at the sun sinking below the horizon, she grinned. “It’s a comforting thing that you know the difference between a heart attack and heartburn.”
He cut his eyes back to her. “I’d be a sorry excuse for a paramedic if I didn’t. Thanks for the coffee. I didn’t even get time to eat.”
She reached into a paper sack and brought out a cheeseburger and fries from the diner. “Will this do? Max made it special before he closed the kitchen.”
“You read my mind,” Linus said, reaching for the bag. He began to munch on the fries before ripping the wrapper off the burger. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
While he ate, she rested her head on his shoulder. “This whole thing with Alice hit too close to home. Everyone’s scared half to death. That’s all anyone talked about today. No wonder people are complaining about chest pains.”
In between bites of food, he pointed out, “The ER was backed up most of the day with panic attacks. As a certified physician’s assistant, I saw most of the overload. I’ve never seen this kind of fear or anxiety—call it what you want—but people are afraid this guy will come back for someone else.”
After taking the last bite of his burger, he crunched up the wrapper and tossed it into a nearby trash can. He pulled out a worn notebook from his backpack and began flipping through pages. “In between patients, I jotted down everything I knew about the victims from 2014 to Gabby. Theo happened to be one of the patients I treated. I can’t tell you why he came in, but we started talking about Gabby’s case. Theo told me that on the night she went missing, Gabby sent a Snapchat photo to one of her friends. The subject of the photo was the bridge with a black SUV clearly visible in the background.”
“Wow, that’s huge. Can you make out the make and model?”
“Unfortunately, you can’t. All you can see is that it’s a black SUV type vehicle.”
“Hmmm. Does that mean Gabby got out of the car to take the picture?”
“That’s what would make sense to me. If she did get out of her car, the guy in the black SUV would have been lurking around the bridge. He must’ve killed her right there on the bridge, then dragged her to the beach where I discovered her skull.”
“Which means he didn’t necessarily need to pretend to be a cop. He just needed to persuade them to get out of the car for some reason. Maybe he pretended to have car trouble or something.”
Linus looked up and noticed an elderly man walking by and then stopping in front of them. He nodded at the fisherman he knew as Genzo Tanaka, who had been fishing these waters and mooring his boat in Smuggler’s Bay for more than forty years. He saw that Mr. Tanaka carried one of the posters about Riggs in his hand. “How’s it going, Mr. Tanaka?”
Genzo waved the paper toward Linus. “I was out at sea when the fire destroyed my harbor,” he rasped, his voice weathered from a lifetime spent battling the rough seas. “I seen ’im,” the old man added. “I seen Riggs, the guy that took that girl. He did this to my harbor, did he not? He kidnapped that young girl. I seen ’im headin’ out towards Crab Shack Cove.”
Linus sat up straighter. “When was that, Mr. Tanaka?”
“Maybe an hour back, staying on one of those fancy yachts, two million at least. He’s a bad man, that one. You catch ’im. I’ll help you.”
“What was the name on the boat?” Linus asked. “What type of vessel was it?”
“Fifty-footer at least, named Defiant. Viking model from the late ’90s but completely restored, worth two million in today’s market easy.”
“Way to go, Mr. Tanaka, you might’ve just broke this case wide open,” Linus said, reaching in his pocket for his phone.
But Lake had already dug out her cell phone to relay the sighting to Brent. Waiting for him to pick up proved annoying. But when he did, she blurted out, “We have a witness who spotted Callum Riggs on a luxury yacht named Defiant moored off Crab Shack Cove.”
On the other end of the phone, Brent’s heart quickened with an enthusiasm he hadn’t felt with other tips. “I’ll call the Coast Guard and get agents on the water immediately. Are we sure this is legit?”
“Linus and I are with Genzo Tanaka right now. Mr. Tanaka knows his boats and recognized Riggs from your poster. This sighting is as legit as anything we’ve heard in two days.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Brent said and hung up on her.
She frowned and turned to Linus. “We give him the best lead he’s had in two days and how does he thank us? He hangs up without a word of goodbye or thanks.” She noticed Linus wasn’t really paying attention. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you suppose that’s how he came and went to reach that stretch of coastline? Riggs wouldn’t even need a car. All he had to do was motor up to that beach in his fancy yacht, use his dinghy or skiff to come ashore, wait under the bridge for an unsuspecting victim to come along, and pretend he needed help of some sort. No one even suspected this guy might have access to a boat.”
Lake stared at him. “But that’s not the scenario Sofia Diaz described. She said the man pretended to be a cop and had flashing lights on the grill of his vehicle.”
“Maybe he switched tactics since then. After all, Sofia’s incident occurred back in 2014, early in his career. That could be why Scott Phillips only managed to save six—different modus operandi that made sure to keep him off-balance. Riggs isn’t stupid. He knew he had to come up with an alternative approach. You said it yourself. Serial killers vary their methods.”
When the first helicopter circled overhead, Mr. Tanaka bobbed his head toward the couple. “I’m gonna go watch, watch them take ’im down. Fun night. Better than TV shows. You should come.”
Lake got to her feet. “Sure. Why not? Let’s go watch them make the arrest.”
“Are you nuts?” Linus muttered. “Brent will have a fit if we go anywhere near Crab Shack Cove tonight.”
Lake started to follow Genzo toward his boat. “We’re not heading there, not exactly. We’re going for a little ride on Mr. Tanaka’s trawler on a Saturday night. That’s all. Where’s the harm in that?”
“Fine,” Linus grumbled. “But when you get a lecture from Brent, I don’t want to be around when he blows his top.”
Nestled along the coast below Half Moon Bay, twenty minutes from Pelican Pointe, was a small cove where Dungeness crabs once thrived in the sandy, muddy bottom, inhabiting the eelgrass and kelp beds and scavenging along the sea floor for food. Over the years, as regulations changed, Crab Shack Cove lost its claim to fame. Now it was simply a picturesque spot with purple-hued sand where you could whale watch or hike up the rugged coastline to the cliffs above the beach.
Captain Tanaka helmed his trawler, Bella Luna, as they made their way through Smuggler’s Bay and around a bend to reach the cove. He knew the perfect angle to set up and wait for the Coast Guard to find the yacht. With the help of air support from the sheriff’s department, it didn’t take long.
Through a pair of binoculars, the scene unfolded seventy feet from their deck. Linus saw the Coast Guard cutter pull up alongside Defiant. The good guys were immediately fired upon. It seemed Callum Riggs didn’t intend to go down without a firefight.
The shootout took on a life of its own as gunfire volleyed back and forth, but it was short in duration. Without warning, in a blinding flash of light, Defiant exploded in a fiery inferno. Engulfed in an orange fireball, the fancy yacht disintegrated as debris shot out like cannon fire.
Even though the billowing flames and black smoke obscured their view, they felt the shockwave hit the Bella Luna, tossing them around on the deck as the boat rocked from the blast.
Feeling the heat from the flames, Mr. Tanaka grabbed the wheel with a tight grip, his knuckles turning white as he tried to steer them away from the chaos unfolding.
The crackling sound of burning wreckage breaking apart permeated the air as the yacht succumbed to the explosion and sank within minutes beneath the churning waves.
Mr. Tanaka shook his head and muttered, “Waste of a good boat.”
As the Coast Guard cutter maneuvered away from the danger zone, Lake spotted a lone figure, his face streaked with soot and determination, bobbing to the surface amidst the wreckage. “Isn’t that Callum Riggs?” she yelled.
With a rebellious stare, the man glared at her before swimming toward the rocky shore. His survival instinct propelled him forward despite the odds stacked against him.
Linus watched in disbelief as Riggs defied the odds, not only escaping the inferno he had ignited but crawling past the rocks onto the sandy beach alive. “He’s there. We should radio the Coast Guard.”
“And the cops,” Mr. Tanaka added, picking up the mic and relaying the information.
“How lucky could this guy get?” Linus complained.
Lake’s heart raced as she watched Callum Riggs make landfall in the middle of Crab Shack Cove. The man was like a ghost, haunting their peaceful corner of the coast with his presence.
Captain Tanaka contacted the authorities, but on Bella Luna’s deck, a tense silence enveloped them. The once serene cove now held secrets darker than its purple sand.
“He’s dangerous,” Linus muttered, his eyes never leaving Riggs as the man stumbled along the beach, leaving a trail of what looked like blood in the sand.
“But he’s injured,” Lake noted. “He won’t get very far. We need to get out of here,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper. She could sense the storm brewing, not on the horizon but within the depths of Crab Shack Cove.
Before they could act, a sudden movement caught Linus’s attention. He pointed to a shadowy figure that emerged from the cliffs above, the man’s silhouette stark against the moonlight. Soon, the unmistakable shapes of others lined the ridge and stood alongside him.
“Look at that,” Linus said. “If I’m not mistaken, Brent Cody just showed up in force with an entire squad of officers.”
“They must’ve been waiting for Riggs at the top. How did they know he’d blow up his own boat?”
“Riggs is a very stupid man,” Tanaka pointed out. “Cody let Coast Guard tangle with him on the water while he waits for him to sneak off into the night.”
Lake grinned. “It”s not a bad tactic. Grab him on the beach after he thinks he got away.”
“They’re taking him into custody now,” Linus said, keeping tabs on the arrest through the binoculars. “I think the worst is over.”
Once word got out that Riggs was in custody, folks breathed a sigh of relief.
Having witnessed the arrest, Lake and Linus went back to her house, convinced that everything would go back to normal.
But as they got ready for bed, Linus still had questions. “Why would a guy with a yacht, a house in Los Gatos, and a good-paying job become a serial killer?”
“An arsonist and kidnapper for sure,” Lake said as she sat on the bed, applying moisturizer to her face and neck.
“Maybe he wasn’t satisfied with his life, despite all those things,” Linus pondered aloud, joining Lake on the edge of the bed. “Sometimes people have everything on the outside, but something dark lurking within them.”
“It’s hard to say what drives someone to do such terrible things. Maybe he had a troubled past that led him down this dark path,” she mused, rubbing more cream along her arms and legs. Her expression serious, she turned to screw the cap back on the lotion. “Or maybe there’s something more sinister at play here—something the cops haven’t uncovered yet,” she said, her eyes narrowing in thought.
“It just doesn”t add up for me. There must be more to this that we’re missing,” he muttered, more to himself than to Lake. “Does it add up for you?”
Her gaze hardened. “I want to believe Callum Riggs is the guy. But do you think someone else might be involved in the murders? At one time, we did think there might be two serial killers. One who began in 2014 and one who is more recent.”
“I don’t know, but there’s something weird about the way Riggs picked Pelican Pointe. Don’t you think? Why here, of all places? There are more people in Santa Cruz and more victims to choose from. Why not stick to that area?”
“But the victims were from Santa Cruz,” Lake pointed out. “All except Gabby. And Riggs only lives fifty minutes away. He makes sense from a logistical standpoint.”
“Okay, but was he watching their movements? Did he know they’d be going over that bridge late at night? If so, how did he know that? I mean, why did Riggs choose those specific victims?” Linus stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit bedroom. “And what about changing his pattern? Why, all of a sudden, did he take Alice in the middle of the day?”
The room fell into a contemplative silence as they both mulled over the possibilities. Outside, the night was eerily quiet, the neighborhood had already gone to bed. Even the dogs seemed content to sleep.
Lake put away the moisturizer in her nightstand drawer before looking up at Linus with a furrowed brow. “Why are you still so focused on this?” she asked, sensing the gears turning in his mind. “Law enforcement arrested the man who took Alice and is suspected of blowing up the boats in the harbor. End of story.”
“That’s just it. Where’s the connection to the serial murders? Show me the link to Riggs and I’ll shut up about it. Did he know any of the victims? Did he have a connection to any of them?”
“We could pick a victim from the older missing person cases, let’s say Keri Davis from 2021, and check her social media accounts for any connection to Riggs.”
“Good idea. I’ll get my laptop. It’s downstairs.”
She let out a sigh. “I’ll get my bathrobe and meet you in the kitchen.”
The unresolved theory took flight as the clock ticked away. Silence followed while they both checked Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok. Using two laptops, they researched all the other names they knew—Joanna Hawkins, Amanda Jenner, Gail Pinter, Cillia French, Maggie Dover, Susan Crawford, and Britney Parks. It was clear that despite Riggs being in custody, the serial cases were far from closed. The mystery surrounding the murders deepened.
“Joanna Hawkins had a Facebook account that’s now inactive,” Lake muttered. “The Same with Amanda and Gail. By the time TikTok came along in 2016, those three were missing, so if they were victims of a serial killer, they wouldn’t have had a TikTok account. But according to their Facebook posts, friends they follow, or comments on photos they posted, there’s nothing that connects those three women to Riggs, unless he used a different profile name. You know what we could use right now?”
“What?”
“Confirmation that those eight missing cases match up to the eight victims.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll ask Eastlyn if they’ve heard back from the lab.”
“I can’t find a single Facebook post that belonged to Cillia, Maggie, Susan, Britney, or Keri where Riggs commented or liked. How about you?”
“Nothing on Instagram or TikTok either,” Linus concluded after they’d finished searching the accounts. “There’s no connection to Riggs knowing them on social media whatsoever.”
But Lake was far from convinced. “That we know about. These social media accounts don’t prove or disprove anything. We don’t have access to their private messages. We have one victim who hasn’t even been identified yet from the area where you found Gabby. We don’t know if—”
“I get it,” Linus said in frustration as he powered down his laptop and snapped the lid shut. “I don’t know squat about anything. I’m as much in the dark about the murders tonight as I was the day I found Gabby’s skull.”
“Is that what this is about? You feel responsible for making sure the killer is Riggs because you found Gabby’s remains that day?”
He twisted in his chair. “That day under the bridge, we uncovered a lot of remains—nine in total. Gabby made ten. Everyone there that day was horrified. I defy anyone who saw what I saw not to be bothered or haunted by the sight of it. The victims were all laid out in the shape of a sundial. Brent has photos of the crime scene if you don’t believe me. What kind of monster does that? And is that monster Riggs?”
She laid a hand on top of his. “Okay. You’re tired. You need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s Sunday, we’ll get up and start again, maybe go back out to the bridge. It would also be a good time to ask Jimmy to call his cousin in Denver and get the details of what happened back in 2014. Hear from a survivor firsthand.”
“Yeah, okay. That sounds like a plan. I’m sorry I can’t let this go—I really am—but I need to find the connection to Riggs.”
“I understand. Let’s get some sleep and tackle this in the morning. Things might look different tomorrow.”