CHAPTER TEN
Riley glanced around at the neighborhood where she and Ann Marie were standing. It was still quiet but there were a few people in sight and a couple of vehicles on the street.
“Hold on a second,” she told Meredith. “This needs to be more private.” She and Ann Marie both got into their car. Once inside with doors sealed shut, Riley fired up the engine. Cool air soon whispered from the vents as she picked up her phone again.
“Chief, I can’t just drop what I’m doing and drive to Red Onion State Prison,” she told Meredith, “That’s at least a four-hour drive, maybe more with traffic.”
“I understand that,” he replied, his voice carrying that familiar sound of authority. “Lancaster seems to understand that too. He’s willing to talk via video conference—but only with you, Riley. And alone.”
Riley glanced over at Ann Marie, who sat in the passenger seat watching her with undisguised concern. The younger agent’s expression held a question Riley wasn’t ready to answer.
“I don’t know what to say,” Riley admitted after a moment. “Just this morning you warned me about going down this particular rabbit hole. Now you’re suggesting I dive in headfirst?”
A sigh traveled through the phone. “The situation has changed. The cryptology team is taking longer than expected with these codes. Every minute counts, and Lancaster claims he can help. Sometimes we have to adapt our approach when circumstances shift.”
The memory of Lancaster and the calculated notes he’d left, flashed through her mind. His mathematical genius had been both his signature and his downfall. If anyone could crack these codes quickly, it might be him. On the other hand, he may have created the codes himself for all she knew.
“Do you think he’s sincere?” she asked.
“Hard to say,” Meredith answered. “But the prison psychologist reports significant changes in his behavior over the past year. And right now, we need all the help we can get.”
Riley weighed her options, though in truth, she knew there was only one real choice. Two women had been abducted, and every passing hour decreased their chances of survival.
“I can arrange for a video link between Lancaster and your tablet within the hour,” Meredith continued when Riley didn’t immediately respond. “The prison authorities are cooperating fully.”
“Fine. Set it up. But first, Ann Marie and I need to meet with Rawley and Hodge at the police station. “
“I’ll make the arrangements. Be careful, Agent Paige.”
Those last four words carried more weight than the casual farewell might suggest. Both of them knew the dangers of engaging with someone like Lancaster—the mind games, the manipulation, the potential for psychological trauma.
“Right,” Riley responded, then ended the call.
She set her phone down and started driving. After a few minutes, Ann Marie spoke up. “Do you really want to do this?”
Riley kept her eyes on the road. “What I want isn’t the issue at the moment.”
“It kind of is,” Ann Marie countered. “You’re the one who has to face him.”
A truck passed them going the opposite direction, its wind buffeting their vehicle momentarily. Riley used the brief distraction to gather her thoughts.
“We don’t even know for sure that Lancaster isn’t somehow involved in the current abductions,” she said finally. “The pattern similarities are... disturbing. But if his offer is real… we do need help with those codes.”
Ann Marie shifted in her seat to face Riley more directly. “This must stir up some troubling memories. Of Shane Hatcher, I mean.”
Though Ann Marie had never personally encountered Hatcher, Riley’s former connection with that killer was well-documented within the Bureau. The parallels were impossible to ignore—another brilliant, manipulative criminal offering assistance, but with hidden motives.
“It does,” Riley admitted. “But I won’t let that kind of thing happen again.”
“Of course, these circumstances are different,” Ann Marie offered. “Lancaster’s locked up at Red Onion. Maximum security. He can’t hurt anyone from there.”
Riley nearly laughed at the naiveté of the statement. “Physical distance doesn’t mean safety,” she said. “Not with someone like Lancaster.”
With men like Lancaster and Hatcher, their weapons were words, manipulation, the ability to burrow into your mind and plant seeds of doubt or fear.
It was also true that Hatcher had broken out of maximum security at Sing Its.
Now there was another killer reaching out from her past, another personal communication with darkness.
They turned onto the main street of the small town. The police station was now visible at the end of the block.
“If it helps,” Ann Marie said as they approached, “I’ll stay right outside the room while you talk to him. If anything feels wrong, just signal me.”
Riley appreciated the offer, though she knew that whatever damage Lancaster might inflict wouldn’t be visible to an observer. The wounds would be internal, psychological. Still, she was grateful for offer of support.
“Let’s talk with Rawley and Hodge first,” she said, pulling into a parking space. “Then I’ll deal with Lancaster.”
As she stepped out of the car, Riley took a deep breath of the warm afternoon air, steeling herself for whatever game Timothy Lancaster intended to play.
The Talomaska Crossing police station hummed with activity as the two agents stepped through the front doors.
Officers moved between desks, phones rang persistently, and the air carried that familiar blend of coffee and disinfectant that seemed universal to law enforcement buildings everywhere.
Riley spotted Chief Rawley and Captain Hodge standing near a corridor that likely led to the interrogation rooms, their expressions grim as they conferred in low voices.
Rawley noticed them first, raising a hand in acknowledgment before stepping toward them. “Agents. We’ve got Alstead in custody. He’s been processed and is waiting in interrogation room two.”
“Has he said anything?” Riley asked.
“Just demands for a lawyer,” Hodge replied. “One’s on the way so we have to wait for that, but we thought you’d want to be part of the questioning.”
“Yes,” Riley said, then hesitated. “There’s been another development that I should take care of in the meantime. We’ve got a source in Red Onion State Prison who is offering to help with this case—Timothy Lancaster. He claims he can help crack the codes.”
“Timothy Lancaster?” Rawley’s eyebrows shot up. “The math teacher killer from last year?”
“The same,” Riley confirmed, uncomfortable with the surprise in the chief’s eyes. “But he’ll only speak with me. Alone.”
Hodge and Rawley exchanged a glance that Riley couldn’t quite interpret—concern, perhaps, or skepticism.
“Is that wise?” Hodge asked, his voice low.
“Probably not,” Riley admitted. “But we’re running out of options and time. I’ll need a quiet room with decent internet.”
Rawley’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she told them, “We’ve got an unused office at the end of this hall. It’s small, but it should work. I’ll show you.”
“Agent Esmer can join you now for Alstead’s interrogation,” Riley told Hodge. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Ann Marie gave Riley a questioning look. “Are you sure you want to do this alone?”
“Lancaster’s conditions were clear,” Riley said. “Just me.”
Rawley led them past several doors until they reached a small office. It contained a desk with a computer, two chairs, and little else. The blinds were drawn over a single window, casting the room in dim, artificial light.
“Take whatever time you need,” Rawley said. “We’ll be with Alstead if you need anything.”
Riley thanked her, and as the others departed, she settled into the chair behind the desk. She unpacked her tablet from her bag, set it up on the desk, and connected to the link Meredith had sent. After a few moments of digital handshaking, the screen flickered to life.
Timothy Lancaster sat in what appeared to be a small conference room within the prison.
He wore standard-issue tan prison garb, his hands resting calmly on the table before him.
His dark hair was shorter than when she’d last seen him, and he’d lost weight, his cheeks more hollow beneath his sharp cheekbones.
But his eyes remained the same—intelligent, focused, observing everything.
“Agent Paige,” he said with a slight smile. “Or should I say Agent Jeffreys now? Congratulations on your marriage. June fourth, wasn’t it?”
How Lancaster knew the exact date sent a wave of unease through Riley. Her wedding had been a small, private affair, deliberately kept out of the press.
“It’s still Paige professionally,” she replied. “How did you know about my wedding?”
Lancaster’s smile widened slightly. “I make it a point to stay informed about your life. Not out of malice,” he added quickly, seeing her expression harden. “Rather out of goodwill. Your career continues to fascinate me.”
“My personal life isn’t relevant to why we’re speaking, Lancaster.”
“Timothy, please,” he corrected gently. “And you’re right, of course. I apologize for the intrusion.” He shifted slightly in his chair. “I understand you’re dealing with a case involving encoded coordinates. Similar to mine.”
Riley studied his face through the screen, searching for signs of deception or manipulation. “Disturbingly similar.”
“Prison changes a person, Agent Paige,” Lancaster said, his tone softening.
“In my case, for the better. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on the harm I’ve caused.
The lives I took.” He paused, his eyes dropping momentarily.
“I especially regret making the case personal for you by killing your high school teacher.”
Riley remained silent. Margaret Whitfield’s death had indeed made the case deeply personal—Lancaster had known exactly what he was doing when he selected her as a victim.
“I know I can’t undo what I’ve done,” Lancaster continued. “But as a gesture of penitence, I want to help you personally with this case.”
Riley couldn’t get a read on his intentions. Was this genuine remorse, or was he playing a game? With men like Lancaster, it was often impossible to tell where the performance ended and reality began.
“How can I be sure you’re not somehow involved with this case?” she asked directly. “That you didn’t create these codes yourself, or direct someone else to do it?”
Lancaster had anticipated the question. “I expected you to ask that. The best I can do is assure you that I haven’t communicated with anyone outside this prison except my court-appointed lawyer. I have nothing to do with these abductions.”
He leaned forward slightly. “The similarity between my methods and this new killer is simply a coincidence—a striking one, I admit. Are you familiar with the improbability principle?”
“Refresh my memory.”
“It states that extremely improbable events are actually commonplace. Given enough opportunities, what seems impossible becomes inevitable. Someone was bound to use mathematical coordinates as part of their crime signature eventually. The fact that it happened so soon after my case is unfortunate timing, nothing more.”
Riley wasn’t convinced, but she knew they needed his help regardless of his motivations. “You said you think you can crack the codes.”
“I’m sure I can,” he said with the quiet confidence that had always characterized him. “I’ve looked them over, and I’ve got some theories about them. But it might take me some time—maybe a few hours.”
“And what do you want in return?” Riley asked, knowing there had to be something.
Lancaster’s expression remained mild. “Nothing you can offer would mean anything, Agent Paige. With three murders to my name, I’ll be serving life regardless.
All I want is to undo some small part of the harm I’ve caused.
” He paused. “I’ll keep the video link open so we can communicate as needed. I’ll get right to work.”
The call didn’t exactly end, but Lancaster’s attention shifted to a notepad that had been provided to him, signaling that the conversation was over for now. Riley stared at the screen, watching as he began writing equations with quick, precise movements.
She leaned back in the chair, unsettled by the exchange.
Was Timothy Lancaster truly an ally in this investigation?
Or was this the opening move in some elaborate game she couldn’t yet see?
Either way, she’d just entered into a bargain with a man whose mathematical brilliance was matched only by his capacity for violence.
She could only hope that this time, history wouldn’t repeat itself.