The door closed but Riley didn’t lie back on her pillow. Instead she waited, listening for Hanna’s footsteps and the light under her door to click off.
Years had passed since she’d had that dream. Vicky’s death and Bowman’s reappearance had jostled loose too many skeletons from the shadows. She’d dearly love to shove them all out of sight but knew it wouldn’t happen tonight.
She tossed off her blankets and crossed to a small desk where she kept her laptop. She opened it. There’d been no time to research Bowman today. Too much happening.
In the search engine she typed: Clay Bowman. Shield Security. FBI. Hostage Rescue Team.
A second passed before several listings on Shield Security materialized, but nothing on Bowman. That didn’t surprise her.
When he had been a part of the training team at Quantico, he was the quietest of all her instructors. He would stand, arms crossed, watching and speaking only when someone needed assistance. She learned through the class grapevine that his wife had died, and that softened her heart toward him and made her want to help. She had been naive enough to think she could make an immediate difference in his life. But his wounds ran bone deep and she’d learned the hard way that they were far from healed.
When she’d gone to his motel room, she knew she was throwing common sense to the wind but sensed he was as drawn to her as she was to him. So when she knocked and he opened the door, she stood her ground as he glared down at her. It had taken all her courage to kiss him. Bowman said nothing, but she felt his response. For a split second she thought he’d send her packing, when suddenly he pulled her into the room and kissed her back.
His touch unleashed a passion that made her knees weak. When he turned her to face the bureau mirror, she’d never wanted anyone more in her life.
As his calloused hands slid up under her shirt and cupped her breasts, he teased her nipple through the sheer fabric of her bra. Teeth nipped at the skin on the side of her neck. When she reached for the snap on her pants, she felt the energy and urgency in his touch as he slid his hands over her hips. He pushed her pants and panties down and slowly entered her. Their gazes locked in the mirror.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
He thrust inside her with an intensity that shattered the walls she’d built around herself.
Only later when she relived the moment, trying to understand why he’d asked her to leave, did she realize he’d never spoken her name. She shook off the memory.
She checked the time. Several more hours to go before the alarm went off at seven and she would have to drag Hanna out of bed for her track practice. Wide-awake and with no hope of getting back to sleep, she rose, shrugged off her nightgown, and tugged on her gym clothes. Cooper glanced up from his crate, but when she didn’t signal they didn’t have to work, he curled back up to sleep. She carried her running shoes and laptop into the kitchen and fired up the coffeemaker.
While toasting a frozen bagel, Riley thought about last night’s meal she’d shared with Bowman. She hated leaving good food on the table. No matter how many years had passed, she never forgot the raw gnawing of hunger dished out to her by the streets. Since those days, she never wasted food. God, the steak on her plate had been so tender she could have cut it with a blunt knife. And she’d left most of it. Damn.
Finishing the last of the bagel, she moved to her computer. She typed: serial killer, New Orleans, and strangled girls. Everything and nothing popped up, so she added the date from twelve years ago. A few references hit that briefly mentioned four girls, all minors, found dead. Strangled. Because the girls were underage, their names were never released. The bodies were all displayed in places where they could be easily found. There were no follow-up stories.
All victims matched a similar description. Dark hair, dark eyes, between sixteen and seventeen, and all runaways. Just like her.
None of the articles mentioned playing cards discovered at any of the crime scenes. That made sense. Always a smart idea for cops to keep a few facts undisclosed that only the killer knew.
Absently, her fingertips now went to her neck. There’d been no sign of bruising on her neck. The needle marks had healed on her arm. Now, she almost doubted it had happened. But the playing cards didn’t lie. They were the evidence that she’d been taken.
She opened the bogus social media page she’d created to see if Darla had reached out. Four more of her friend requests had been accepted but nothing from Darla.
The alarm on her phone sounded, startling her back to the present. She went into Hanna’s room. “Rise and shine. It’s time to get up.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“You said you wanted up early for the run practice.”
Hanna groaned and turned on her side. “Five more minutes.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Five more minutes always leads to five more, and besides, you never really fall back to sleep. It just prolongs the inevitable.”
Hanna pulled the blanket over her head. “Stop making sense.”
“I’ll make you a coffee. Want a bagel?”
“With extra cream cheese.”
Hanna’s pouty voice made Riley smile. She sounded like a regular teenager, which was a good thing. “Coming up.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hanna emerged from her shower. She was dressed and her hair was pulled back. She sat at the table and took several sips of the hot coffee. “So how many more days do you have off?”
“Three.”
She bit into the bagel. “Are you actually taking time off?”
“Sorta.”
“Meaning no.” She took another bite and chewed. “I read about that strangled girl. Did you see her?”
Riley rinsed out her cup and put it in the strainer by the sink. “I did.”
“Was it awful?”
“It was. In a nutshell, don’t talk to strangers.”
“You say that all the time.”
“I mean it. Is Mrs. Taylor picking you up today?”
“No. Julia is skipping practice.”
“So you’re driving yourself? Do you have enough gas in your car?”
She took another mouthful of bagel. “Put ten dollars’ worth in yesterday.”
“Chew and then speak.”
Hanna rolled her eyes, chewed, and made a show of swallowing.
“I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Hanna saluted. “Roger that.”
Riley gave Hanna a quick hug as she passed. She was a step from her room when her phone chimed the arrival of a text. She glanced at it. Clay Bowman. “Damn it.”
“What?” Hanna called.
“It’s a guy who is proving to be a big pain in my ass.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Saturday, September 17, 9:00 a.m.
Bowman arrived in front of the medical examiner’s office first thing in the morning. Shield had called in favors and gotten him this weekend interview with the pathologist who’d performed Vicky Gilbert’s autopsy.
Riley pulled up in her SUV. Out of the vehicle, her jacket flapped open as her heeled boots landed with hard, determined strides across the parking lot. Annoyance sharpened her dark eyes as her gaze speared him. “Mr. Bowman.”