“I’ll be fine. Rather sleep in my own bed.” She glanced around, looking for Andrews. “Can you check with your buddy and see if he can cut me loose?”
A dozen rebuttals were written in the deep lines etched around the edges of his mouth and eyes. He collected the finished copies and handed them to her. “Sure.”
Pushing away from the table, he walked around the corner to visit with Andrews. Riley rolled her head from side to side, turning her attention back to Vicky Gilbert’s case as she leafed through the dossiers of the girls. If there wasn’t a lead soon, the case would lose momentum.
Bowman returned seconds later with Andrews. The latter studied her closely as if searching for signs of trouble. Both men possessed an intensity, but when Andrews looked at her, she didn’t feel as on edge as she did when Bowman was close.
“You feel okay?” Andrews asked.
“I’m fine. I need to get going.”
“I’ve texted you my cell number,” Andrews said. “If you have trouble with the injection site, call me. Don’t go to your doctor.”
She fished her phone from her back pocket and glanced at the screen. “You texted my cell? I assume Bowman gave the number to you.”
“I suppose that was one other way of getting it,” Andrews said.
“I’ll walk you out,” Bowman said.
“Sure.”
With Cooper following, they moved out of Bowman’s office to the elevators. He pressed the “Down” button and, when the doors opened, slid his hand over the door opening as she entered. The holding of the doors was something new for her. Made her feel oddly awkward.
In the elevator, his height and broad shoulders shrunk Riley’s personal space to a bare minimum. And he knew it.
Bowman walked her out the front door and across the parking lot, which glistened from a recent rain. At her SUV he stood back, his hands in his pockets. “Let me know what you think of those files.”
“I will.” She opened the back door and Cooper jumped inside. “Unless I spot something, it’s a matter of waiting for the Shark to make his next move. Either way, it won’t be long.”
“Agreed.”
“This guy isn’t going to quit, is he?” she said.
“Shield doesn’t think it’s over, and neither do I.”
Absently, she rubbed the bandage on her arm. He was right, of course. She wasn’t thinking like a cop but like a victim, and that wasn’t smart. “I honestly don’t get what the big deal is about me.”
“Obsession isn’t an easy thing to explain. But he’s obsessed with you.”
“Shield seems as driven.”
“The longer you chase, the harder it is to give up. He wants this guy and won’t stop until he’s caught.”
“Only this guy?”
“If it makes you feel better, he has a hit list of cases he plans to reopen.”
“I just happen to be first on the list.” She heard the fear edging the words.
His tone softened. “You’re not in this by yourself anymore, Riley. You have me.”
Alone in the parking lot, it was tempting to hand over the whole mess to Bowman. To lean in . . . But no. At this moment, she didn’t feel strong or brave. She was exhausted and craving the normal life she’d worked hard to build. But she would not lean on anyone. That would be a slippery slope that would lead to dependence. She’d sworn when she’d stumbled off that bus and into Duke’s care that she’d never be at anyone’s mercy again.
Instead of reaching out to Bowman, she swallowed the tension rising up in her throat. “Thanks.”
“Drive safe.”
“Right.”
As she drove off, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw him standing there, staring at her until she vanished around the corner.
Bowman walked into Shield’s office. The older man stood at his window, watching Riley drive away. He picked up his whiskey, took a sip, and grimaced as if it tasted bitter.
“I can see why the Shark is interested in her,” Shield said.
Bowman’s hands flexed. “We’re using her.”
“We are also saving her.”
“We damn well better.”
“You are taken with the woman. I don’t blame you. She’s remarkable.”
Bowman shifted his stance, shaking change in his pocket. Self-recriminations rattled in his mind. He’d tried for a second chance the other night and she’d turned him away. Just because he wanted another chance with her didn’t mean he deserved it. “She’s tough but she also gets invested in those street kids. They’re her Achilles’ heel. Look how she tore after Jax Carter after he beat that girl. It wouldn’t take much to lure her into a trap.”
“Sounds like you want to be the one watching after her.”
“Yes.”
“Then go to her.”
“We’re on a case.” He thought about the picture of Karen back in his office. Choosing Riley meant really leaving Karen behind.
“For a long time you thought your life ended when you buried your wife. The first time Riley crossed your path, I’m assuming there was a strong attraction as there is now. Then you were too raw with grief to take a second chance. Now, the single excuse standing between you and her is you.”
Bowman stared into the darkness a long moment. “The Shark wants closure on his unfinished business.”
“So for Riley’s sake, let’s end this.”
Riley pushed through the front door of her house, immediately struck by the stillness inside. She’d become so used to having Hanna there that not having her around made the house feel off. Locking the door behind her, she unhooked Cooper’s leash and tossed the file Bowman had given her on the small kitchen table. The dog padded into the kitchen, drank water, and walked straight into his crate. He laid his head down and closed his eyes.
By all rights, Riley should have been exhausted, but her mind buzzed. Rubbing her hand over the bandage on her arm, she set up her coffeemaker and turned it to “Brew.” As it hissed and gurgled, she moved to the file and opened it, cringing when she saw the first image of a young girl murdered over a dozen years ago. She’d found very little information on the Internet when she’d searched before, but because the victims had been minors, their names had not been published. This file contained details the media had never known.
The first victim’s name had been Angie Butler, and she was only seventeen when police found her body in an alley in the French Quarter. Like Vicky, she’d been strangled and playing cards had been shoved in her pocket. The next girl was Nadine West, age seventeen. Same MO. The third girl, Verity Coggan, had been sixteen. The last girl, Lana Smith, days short of eighteen. All had been found over a two-week stretch, and then no more bodies.
Riley arranged the pictures in a row. All the young girls had dark hair and brown eyes. All runaways. All like her.
“Damn.” She turned to the coffeemaker and poured a fresh cup. Sipping, she moved back to the table and sat. Angie. Nadine. Verity. Lana. Her gaze swept all four faces again, but this time it doubled back to Angie’s. A distant sense of familiarity vibrated in her.