CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The realization was so strong it hit like a physical blow, leaving Riley momentarily breathless.
This burial site had been deliberately selected, a place with personal significance that held meaning beyond its practical use.
She stood perfectly still amid the abandoned graveyard as the pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity.
This killer hadn’t chosen this location randomly—and not even for the charm of the old church ruins.
Putting his victim here was an offering, a perverse tribute to a place that mattered to him.
Not just a burial ground but a sacred space.
Which meant that Amanda Lindeen’s body would be in a similar location near Talomaska Crossing.
Somewhere personally significant to the killer.
So, this location itself …
Ann Marie stood a few yards away, carefully documenting the scene with her camera. Riley moved toward her, stepping carefully around the disturbed earth of the shallow grave.
“I need a word,” Riley said quietly, gesturing Ann Marie away from the local officers.
Ann Marie followed her to a spot beneath an ancient oak tree, far enough from the others that they couldn’t be overheard. The younger agent’s face was composed, but Riley could see intense interest in her eyes.
“I think I understand something about our killer,” Riley said, keeping her voice low.
“The locations indicated by the coordinates aren’t just convenient dumping grounds for people he’s killed.
He has an emotional connection to certain places.
He feels something for this place, something personal.
And I’d bet anything that Amanda Lindeen is buried somewhere else that matters to him near Talomaska Crossing.
This isn’t about hiding bodies. It’s about meaning. ”
Ann Marie’s eyes widened slightly as she processed all of it. “That’s... actually brilliant. The coded messages aren’t just puzzles—they’re a kind of invitation to places he cares about.”
“Exactly,” Riley said. “I need to talk to Timothy Lancaster again alone, like before. He’s our best shot at cracking the other code quickly. I’ll be in the car.”
Riley made her way back to her Bureau sedan, getting into the driver’s seat and shutting the door.
The silence inside was immediate and complete.
She pulled out her tablet, tapped the secure connection icon, and waited as the video conferencing app connected to the line Timothy had left open for her.
His face appeared on the screen, still sitting in what looked like a small conference room. His eyes lit up when he saw her.
“Agent Paige,” he said, his voice smooth and controlled. “I was hoping you’d check in. I think I’m on the verge of cracking both codes. It’s a beautiful algorithm, really. The letters aren’t random—they’re paired to create numerical values. In just a few minutes I’ll be able to—”
“I know what the codes are for,” Riley interrupted. “They indicate where the killer’s victims are buried. We just found a shallow grave near Bundydale. We’re here right now, at 37.1614° N, 81.1167° W. And I believe the other gravesite, Amanda Lindeen’s, is somewhere near Talomaska Crossing.”
Timothy’s expression brightened. He wrote the coordinates down.
“This is perfect. Now I have a confirmed match to test my algorithm against. I can finish this quickly.” He was already scribbling calculations.
“All I need to do is confirm exactly how one of the two codes translates to those coordinates, and I’m very close already. ”
Riley watched him set back to work, struck by the strange contradiction of this man—a killer who had taken three lives now seemed to be working hard to potentially save others.
“Once I’ve locked down the algorithm,” Timothy continued, “I can tell you exactly where to look near Talomaska Crossing.” He looked up at her, his expression serious. “I’ll keep this connection open. Check back in a few minutes—I should have it by then.”
“I appreciate your help,” Riley told him, the words feeling strange in her mouth. Thanking a killer for his assistance went against her long-held resolutions, but lives were at stake, and this man had the mind that might help prevent another death.
“Don’t thank me yet, Agent Paige,” Timothy said with a hint of a smile. “Let’s see if I’m right first.”
The connection remained open as Riley set the tablet down on the passenger seat and stepped out of the car.
She spotted Ann Marie talking with one of the officers, her notebook open, pen hovering above the page as she documented their findings.
Riley caught her eye and gestured for her to come over.
“Did you get anything useful?” Ann Marie asked as she approached.
“Timothy’s working on it now,” Riley said, keeping her voice low. “He thinks he’s close to cracking the algorithm. If he’s right, we’ll have the exact coordinates for Amanda Lindeen’s location within minutes.”
Riley glanced around the churchyard. “Let’s talk to Montgomery,” she said. “I want to know more about this place.”
She caught a questioning look from Ann Marie. “Do you think that he …?” The younger agent’s expression was subtle but clear: Could Montgomery himself be their killer? Someone who hoped to clear himself by finding the body?
Riley gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She’d was sure that the man’s shock at finding the grave was genuine. His horror hadn’t been feigned. She’d bet her career on it.
Bob Montgomery stood near the church’s crumbling entrance; his arms wrapped around himself as though warding off a chill. His face was pale, making the circles under his eyes more pronounced. He straightened as Riley and Ann Marie approached.
“Mr. Montgomery,” Riley began, “I’d like to ask you a bit more about this location. What can you tell me about its history?”
“Not much to tell, really,” he replied. “The church was built in the 1880s, abandoned sometime in the 1960s when the congregation built a new one closer to town. The graveyard’s older, though. Some of these stones go back to the early 1800s.”
“And you mentioned you come here from time to time?” Riley prompted.
“Since I was a kid.” His gaze drifted around the overgrown cemetery. “My grandfather used to bring me fishing at the creek that’s just a little way off, beyond those trees. I’d explore while he fished. Found this place when I was maybe ten. It became my... I don’t know, my thinking spot.”
Bob’s voice grew quieter. “When my dad passed away and left me the hardware store, I’d come out here to sort through things.
When my wife told me she was pregnant with our first, I came here to let it sink in.
” He gave a self-conscious shrug. “Sounds strange, I guess, finding peace in a ruined church and an old graveyard.”
“Not strange at all,” Ann Marie said softly. “Many people find cemeteries peaceful, and the church is still beautiful in its own way.”
“Mr. Montgomery,” Riley continued, “how many other people feel the same way about this place? Anyone else who might share your attachment to it?”
Bob thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“Can’t think of anyone, to be honest. It’s pretty isolated out here.
Most folks in town avoid it—all those silly ghost stories kids tell.
” He paused. “Wait," he said, clearly finding a memory. “There were these twins who lived here briefly when I was in high school. Tony and Jay Bartlett. We used to come out here together. They’d bring a miniature chess set, and we’d play each other. They always beat me.”
Riley felt the familiar prickle at the base of her neck—the sensation she’d learned never to ignore. “Tell me about them.”
“They moved to Bundydale with their dad when we were, oh, maybe sixteen? Didn’t stay long, maybe two years.
Their dad worked for the Department of Transportation.
Nice guys, but kind of intense. Really smart—especially with numbers and puzzles.
” Bob smiled faintly at the memory. “I’d hike out here with them.
They loved this place as much as I did.”
“Do you still keep in touch?” Ann Marie asked.
Bob shook his head. “Lost track after they moved away. About five years back, I heard Jay died in a climbing accident. Never found out where it happened or anything. No idea where Tony might be now.”
“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Riley told him. “You’ve been very helpful.”
She guided Ann Marie a few steps away, out of Bob’s earshot. “I need you to use your phone to access the FBI database. Find everything you can on Tony and Jay Bartlett, especially anything about Jay’s death and Tony’s current whereabouts.”
“You think Tony could be our guy?” Ann Marie asked, already pulling out her phone.
“It’s worth looking into. Five years since his brother’s death, and our killer is someone who feels a strong connection to places from his past.” Riley glanced back toward her vehicle. “I’m going to check in with Timothy. See if he’s made progress.”
When Riley returned to her car and picked up the tablet, Timothy Lancaster’s face appeared immediately, his eyes bright with excitement.
“Agent Paige,” he said, “I’ve got it. The algorithm is beautiful in its simplicity once you see the pattern. Each letter pair corresponds to a number, and the numbers build the coordinates.”
He held up a sheet of paper covered with calculations. “I’ve decoded CG, AF-AI-BI-AH-5, GI, EA-AB-AA-AE. It translates to 37.6985° N, 79.5152° W. That’s where you’ll find Amanda Lindeen—somewhere along the Talomaska River.”
Riley felt a strange mixture of gratitude and revulsion for this man who had murdered three people. “You’re certain about this?”
“Absolutely,” Timothy replied, tapping the paper. “The pattern is consistent. Whoever created this code has a mathematician’s mind—methodical, precise. He’s building his puzzles the same way each time.”
Riley heard Bob Montgomery’s words in her mind again, really smart—especially with numbers and puzzles.
“Thank you for your help,” she told Timothy, keeping her voice calm.
“I’ll keep this connection open in case you need anything else,” he said. “Consider it part of my... community service.”
Riley ended the call without responding to his attempt at humor. Now they had a target location. She knew where Amanda Lindeen might be buried. Could finding that place give them a clue to a killer whose motivations remained hidden in the shadows of grief and obsession?