“Thank you.” The deep timbre of the man’s voice drew her attention as he dropped his change, not just coins but also bills, into the tip jar. He didn’t bother with sugar or milk before he turned.
She froze, her cup centimeters below her lips as she looked at him. He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome. The profile was too rough around the edges, as if parts had been bruised or broken before. Shit. Clay Bowman.
He took a seat two spaces from her. Long fingers tapped the side of his coffee cup as he fished a cell from his breast pocket.
Riley sipped her coffee, her comfort level plummeting. Clay f-ing Bowman. The last guy she needed or wanted to see again.
Hiding was not an option unless she wanted to look like a wuss. She blew out a slow breath, set her cup down. No sense skirting this past mistake.
“Clay Bowman,” she said.
His dark gaze rose. “Riley Tatum.”
She was actually surprised he remembered her. He’d blasted into her world, made her want too much, and pushed her out of his life.
“So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“A case.” He allowed his gaze to linger. “You look good. Life must be treating you well.”
“Can’t complain.” His voice struck a chord as familiar words echoed. Do you have this? Was he the guy who’d helped her on the side of the mountain?
“Glad to hear it. I always pegged you for greatness.” Bowman’s presence scraped her nerves and invaded her space as she faced him.
“Did you just arrive in the city?”
He studied her a beat. “Why do you ask?”
The dark paint was gone, but she recognized the wide set of his jaw and angled cheekbones. “I guess I thought we might have crossed paths in the last couple of days.”
“I have that kind of face.”
“You ever do any hiking?”
“Sometimes.”
He answered her questions but gave her nothing extra. He was the guy in the woods. She was sure of it. But he wasn’t willing to confirm and she was in no mood to play games.
Sitting around and playing it cool was not her specialty, and she wasn’t interested in chatting with a guy she once thought she might have been able to love. Shit. How could she have not recognized him on the mountain?
“It’s been a pleasure, Bowman. Glad to see you’re doing well.”
“You too, Riley.”
Waving to Seth, she crossed the coffee shop. “Thanks, Seth.”
As she moved, she sensed Clay watching her. Tracking her. Hell, he could be just as surprised to see her here. She kept moving.
Her SUV was already running, AC blasting so Cooper remained cool. When she slid behind the wheel, she shot a quick glance in Cooper’s direction. “The universe hates me today.”
Cooper looked up, then relaxed back.
Seeking distraction, she grabbed her phone from her pocket. A missed message. Realizing she hadn’t turned her ringer back on, she played the message. It was from Bonnie Gilbert, who simply said, “If you want to know more about Vicky, call her friend Rebecca Wayne. Rebecca knew more about my daughter than I did.” After rattling off Rebecca’s number, she rang off.
Riley dialed Rebecca’s phone.
On the third ring she heard, “Hello?”
“Is this Rebecca Wayne?”
“Yes.”
“This is Trooper Riley Tatum with the Virginia State Police. I understand you were a friend of Vicky Gilbert.”
“Yeah. So?”
“I’d like for us to meet. I want to talk to you about her.”
“I’m in school right now. And how do I know you’re a cop?”
“We can meet in public. I’ll show you my badge.”
She was silent for a moment. “I shouldn’t be on the phone, but I’m in the girls’ locker room.”
“When can you talk?”
“School lets out at three and I have tennis practice right after. I can meet you at the courts.”
“Great.”
Rebecca told her the school’s address.
“I’ll find it.”
Bowman sat in Seth’s coffee shop watching Riley Tatum through the window as she spoke on her phone. Garrett Andrews had tracked her cell to this location, and though he’d seen her on the mountain and at her home, he wanted to see her up close. She looked better than he remembered.
She noticed him the instant he’d entered the café—good cops knew who was around. Identifying him had brought a wicked frown to her face, and when he spoke, she knew he’d trailed her on the mountain. She’d called him out without giving him away. Savvy. Smart. But that was Riley. Never anyone’s fool.
Tall and lean, she carried herself with the straight-backed posture of someone with her sights set on the chief’s office one day. Her clothes were nice and crisp, with an edge. One glance suggested she was a gym rat, but she would have to be in good shape to maintain the tracking pace she’d set the other day.
She’d not given any physical indication that his presence bothered her as she rose and left, but he’d sensed her irritation. He shouldn’t care one way or the other if seeing him again affected her, but he did.
On his phone, he opened the e-mails from his office that profiled Riley Tatum. At thirty, she’d racked up several citations and a valor award for the rescue two years ago. There’d been talk of her moving to the investigative side, but she’d opted out to stay with her dog. Loyal. As he remembered.
Her arrest of Jax Carter had earned her media attention, which she’d shunned when the reporters surrounded her after the arrest. She did not like the limelight. He couldn’t fault her. She was a good cop.
A review of the Shark’s victim profiles proved she easily fit the killer’s type. Today with her long dark hair draping her shoulders, the similarities were striking. Shave off twelve years and she was a perfect fit.
And now she was connected to the Gilbert case. The killer had been inactive for a dozen years and the previous killings had all happened in New Orleans, her hometown. He knew she’d crossed paths with this killer and had somehow gotten away.
When he thought back to his visit with Charles this morning, he couldn’t picture Riley living the socialite life. Why had Charles called her difficult?
Bowman rose.
Out the door, he strode to his black SUV and slid behind the wheel. He switched on the engine and, certain now that no one could hear, dialed Shield.
He picked up on the second ring. “You made contact?”
“I did.”
“What do you think?”
That was a loaded question. “We exchanged a couple of basic pleasantries.”
“Did she recognize you from the mountain?”
“She did.”
“She’s not told anyone about your assist there?”
“I don’t think so. I asked for her discretion at the time.”
A humorless chuckle leaked over the line. “It’s to her advantage not to talk. She gets all the credit.”
“True.” But she wasn’t the type to grab attention. “Her stepfather strikes me as the kind of guy who would willingly gamble her life. He’s got a huge portrait of his first wife. She was Riley’s mother and they look exactly alike.”
There was a long pause. “I wonder if Riley knows how close she came to dying twelve years ago?”