CHAPTER ELEVEN
Riley shut down her tablet and tucked it into her bag.
She found the idea of Timothy Lancaster keeping his video link open rather creepy.
Maybe he was even still talking about his change of heart, but at least she could choose when to log back in and listen.
And he had appeared to be working on those codes that no one else had been able to break.
She left the small office and closed the door behind her.
Rawley had said that Alstead was waiting in interrogation room two. The other end of the hallway, she guessed. Indeed, as she started walking in that direction, she spotted Ann Marie, Captain Hodge, and Chief Rawley clustered together.
“Did Lancaster give you anything useful?” Captain Hodge asked as she approached.
Riley shook her head. “Not yet—and it’s too soon to tell whether he’s really going to. But he claims that he wants to help us. Did you find out anything from Alstead?”
“No such luck,” Rawley said. “Marcus Alstead’s public defender showed up just now. Complete shutdown of the interrogation. We couldn’t get another word out of him.”
Riley wasn’t surprised. “To be honest, I don’t think we were going to get much anyway.”
“You don’t think he’s our guy?” Chief Rawley’s eyebrows rose.
Riley shook her head no.
Captain Hodge leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “I agree with Agent Paige. Marcus doesn’t fit. I’ve been working these cases long enough to know when something’s off.”
“We need to go over everything,” Rawley said. “In here.”
She indicated an open door, and they all moved into a small conference room, the space barely large enough for the four of them. They sat down and compared notes, going over the case and the arrest in detail—at least as much detail as they had so far.
Arranging the thoughts in her head, Riley explained, “Marcus was a convenient suspect, but the psychological profile doesn’t align.
For one thing, the abductor we’re looking for is highly intelligent, capable of leaving clues that even our cryptographers are finding hard to crack. I don’t think Marcus is that bright.”
“Not nearly,” Chief Rawley admitted with a sigh. “So where does that leave us?”
“We still need to look into the disappearance of Cable Morris near Bundydale the night before last,” Riley said firmly. “I think we need to focus there now.”
“We should head out to Bundydale, then,” Captain Hodge said, checking the time. “It’s about an hour’s drive. If we leave now, we’ll still have a few good hours of daylight.”
“We need to let the authorities there know we’re on our way,” Riley said.
“I’ll call their local police chief,” Hodge said, pulling out his phone. “Abel Peckham is a good person – been chief there for almost fifteen years. Knows every back road and family secret in that county. He’ll work with us on this.”
Chief Rawley spoke slowly. “All right. I guess that you three need to be on your way. But keep me updated.” Then the police chief left to oversee her local issues.
The others gathered their materials, the meeting breaking up with a sense of renewed purpose. Captain Hodge stepped outside to make his call to Chief Peckham, his voice a low rumble in the hallway.
Riley collected her notes, tucking them into her bag while Ann Marie hovered nearby, clearly wanting to say something.
“What is it?” Riley asked, not unkindly.
“I was just wondering... Timothy Lancaster. What’s he like? I’ve read the case file, but—” Ann Marie hesitated.
Riley zipped her bag closed with more force than necessary. “Brilliant. Disturbed. And damned hard to read. At this point, I have no idea whether he’s really trying to help or if he’s playing me.”
Ann Marie absorbed all this with the serious expression Riley had come to appreciate. For all her cheerfulness, the young agent understood darkness when she encountered it.
They walked out to the parking lot together. Captain Hodge was already heading toward his State Police vehicle, raising a hand in acknowledgment as he passed. “See you there,” he called as he climbed into his car.
Riley unlocked their sedan and got into the driver’s seat while Ann Marie settled in the other side, immediately pulling out her tablet to review the Cable Morris file. As she navigated out of the parking lot, Riley adjusted the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of her own tired eyes.
“What do you think we’ll find in Bundydale?” Ann Marie asked.
“If I knew that,” Riley replied with a wry smile, “we’d already have our killer.” She turned onto the highway, accelerating toward that town.
The road cut through Virginia’s rolling countryside.
Riley couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being led somewhere – not just to Bundydale, but deeper into someone’s carefully constructed design.
The question was whether they were being led toward answers or into a blind alley designed to be a trap.
*
April stared at the same page of her Introduction to Law textbook for the fifth time, the words blurring into meaningless shapes as her concentration slipped away.
The afternoon lull at Brick House Beanery usually offered perfect study time – just enough background noise to keep her alert without the chaos of the earlier rush.
Today, however, her mind refused to cooperate, circling back to Ethan’s amber eyes, the slight tremor in his voice when he’d tried to explain, and the questions that kept multiplying in her head.
She sighed and glanced around the coffee shop. Only three customers remained – an elderly man with his newspaper by the window, and two college students with laptops in the corner, likely from nearby Mary Washington University.
April tried again to focus on her textbook. “The constitutional basis for search and seizure law is found primarily in the Fourth Amendment...” The words swam around as her thoughts drifted to Ethan’s apartment, to his sketchbook …
“You ‘re going to drill a hole through that page if you keep staring at it like that.”
April looked up to find Molly leaning against the counter beside her, arms folded across her chest. Molly’s dark hair was beginning to pull loose from her practical ponytail, her green apron spotted with coffee stains from the day’s work.
“That obvious, huh?” April closed the book with a soft thud.
“You’ve been reading the same page for twenty minutes.” Molly grabbed a rag and wiped down the already clean counter. “Still thinking about Mystery Boy?”
April was grateful for Molly’s directness.
In the three weeks they ‘d worked together, she’d come to appreciate her coworker’s no-nonsense approach to life.
Molly carried herself with a confidence April envied – like someone who had already figured out the rules to a game April was still learning to play.
“You’re going to make yourself crazy,” Molly said, tossing the rag into a bin beneath the counter. “Trust me, I’ve been there. The wondering is always worse than knowing.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts. Just go see him after your shift. Show up at his place and make him talk to you.”
April frowned. “I can’t just show up uninvited.”
“Why not? Worst case scenario, he’s not home.
” Molly shrugged. “Best case, you get answers, whether they’re the ones you’re hoping for or not.
Either way, you stop torturing yourself and can actually focus on...
” she gestured to the textbook, “whatever thrilling legal principle you’re supposed to be learning. ”
April’s hand drifted to her phone, thumb hovering over Ethan’s contact information. The café door opened, and a group of five teenagers spilled inside, laughing and talking loudly, their energy immediately transforming the quiet space.
“Duty calls,” Molly said with a wink, straightening her apron. “Think about what I said.”
April tucked her textbook under the counter and put on her professional smile. “Welcome to Brick House Beanery. What can I get for you guys today?”
The next fifteen minutes passed in a flurry of activity – taking orders, making various complicated coffee drinks, warming pastries, and ringing up sales.
April welcomed the distraction, losing herself in the familiar rhythm of work.
She moved skillfully, grinding beans, tamping espresso, and steaming milk to the perfect temperature.
These were skills she’d mastered quickly, the routine providing a comforting structure.
“Can I get extra caramel in that?” asked a girl with pink-tipped hair, pointing to her frappuccino.
“Sure thing,” April said, drizzling additional caramel in a spiral pattern. As she handed over the drink, she caught herself thinking about Ethan again – about how he’d looked genuinely hurt when she’d questioned him about his grandmother’s heart condition.
The teenagers settled at two tables pushed together near the window, their laughter and animated conversation creating a pleasant background noise. April wiped down the espresso machine, her thoughts drifting despite her best efforts to stay present.
She felt foolish for being so consumed by the questions in her mind.
It was just a relationship – at least almost a relationship.
Her first serious one since high school, sure, but still just a possible relationship, nothing more.
Or not even that—maybe just a crush, an infatuation that might fade at any moment.
Meanwhile, her mother was out there dealing with actual life-and-death situations, catching killers, saving lives.
April had grown up with the nature of her mother’s work a constant reality in their home – sometimes closer, sometimes more distant, but always there.
She’d seen firsthand the toll it took, the nightmares, the calls in the middle of the night, the missed birthdays.
Mom’s work had put even put April herself in danger more than once.
And yet, she wanted that life for herself, or some version of it.
To do work that mattered, that made a difference.
And here she was, nearly nineteen years old, completely distracted by boy problems. If she really wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps, she needed to develop the kind of focus that her mother had – the ability to see through distractions to what really mattered.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Molly asked, returning from delivering pastries to the teenagers’ table.
April shook her head. “Just thinking about Mom. She’s working on a case right now.”
“Something big?”
“She took off this morning before I got a chance to ask.” April shrugged, though the casual gesture didn’t match the pride she felt.
Molly looked impressed. “Must be weird having an FBI agent for a mom.”
“You get used to it,” April said, though that wasn’t entirely true. She’d never quite gotten used to the worry that accompanied her mother’s job – the knowledge that each case might be the one where luck ran out.
She glanced at the clock on the wall – one more hour until her shift ended.
Her mother would be deep into her investigation by now, analyzing evidence, interviewing witnesses, piecing together the puzzle of whatever crime she was trying to solve.
April tried to imagine her mother in that moment – focused, determined, unflappable.
She certainly wouldn’t be standing around moping about a boy.
“You know what?” April said suddenly. “You’re right. I’m going to his place after work.”
Molly grinned. “That’s my girl. No use waiting around for answers when you can go get them yourself.”
The bell above the door jingled again as another customer entered. April turned toward the sound with renewed purpose. Whatever was happening with Ethan – whether he was hiding something sinister or just dealing with his own personal issues – she would face it head-on.
Just like Mom would.