A silence fell. Riley almost hung up the phone.
Then the voice said, “I thought it was time we got acquainted.”
Shock ran through Riley’s mind as she realized who she was listening to.
“Aunt Cora,” she said, almost in a whisper.
The woman chuckled and continued, still sounding perfectly friendly. “After all, we’ve both been mentors to a brilliant young woman. I must admit, though, to a certain pang of jealousy that she’s left my nest, and she’s now in your charge. But that’s life, isn’t it? Things change. And it’s healthy that things change. Healthy and natural.”
Riley almost asked …
How did you get this number?
But of course, it was a ridiculous question.
From everything Jenn had said about Aunt Cora, that woman would have no trouble at all tracking down a simple home phone number.
Aunt Cora continued, “I’ve been following that case you’ve been working on. It must be frustrating—getting stymied like that, knowing that the killer is still out there. How are you holding up?”
Riley started to feel a new worry, but Cora seemed to anticipate it.
“Before you get upset … no, Jenn hasn’t been in touch, isn’t reporting to me. She’s being a perfectly good girl, very discreet, loyal to you and the FBI, keeping me at a safe distance. I’m just nosy, that’s all. I like to know what’s going on. And …”
For the first time, Riley heard a slightly sinister sound in the woman’s voice.
“… and I have my ways of finding out whatever I want to know.”
Riley felt an icy chill.
Was Cora in touch with any of the local cops Riley had dealt with? Or someone with the railroad police? Or the Chicago FBI?
Or all of them?
Riley couldn’t imagine the extent of Aunt Cora’s criminal web.
Cora continued, sounding as warm as before.
“Such horrible murders, so shocking. Not so shocking to you, I don’t suppose. But do you ever get used to it? Do you have any idea what drives someone to do such ghastly things?”
Riley said nothing. She wondered what to do.
Just hang up?
No, something told her that she’d want to hear whatever this woman had to say.
The voice on the phone went on, “You meet some interesting people working on a case, don’t you? I hear you’ve met a nice widower. So sweet, so lonely. Any sparks between you? Any possibility of romance? Well, I suppose he’s a bit old for your taste …”
Riley’s stomach felt uneasy at the obvious reference to Mason Eggers.
The woman knew a lot—too much for Riley’s comfort.
Cora continued, “I’m sure you hope you’ve seen the last of that young railroad cop. Such an obnoxious character, isn’t he? Can’t keep his hands to himself. Doesn’t treat women with proper respect. I wonder. A man who harasses female colleagues like that—it makes you wonder, what else might he be capable of?”
She knows about Cullen too, Riley realized.
But she determinedly kept her silence.
Finally, in a sweet, chirping voice, Aunt Cora said, “Well, I’m so glad we had this pleasant little chat. Let’s do stay in touch. I always want to know how dear little Jenn is doing. Such a remarkable girl!”
Aunt Cora abruptly ended the call.
Riley sat there with the phone in her hand, feeling completely baffled.
Cora had said …
“Let’s do stay in touch.”
… but she hadn’t told Riley a thing about how to reach her.
Not that Riley wanted to know.
It was surely best for her not to know.
But why had Aunt Cora contacted Riley?
A “pleasant little chat,” she had said.
It certainly hadn’t been pleasant at all for Riley.
But surely Aunt Cora had called with some purpose in her mind.
Riley began to replay the one-sided conversation over and over in her head.
Little by little, an idea started to take form in her mind. There was something she should look up, something she’d never checked on because it had never seemed even remotely relevant.
Her heart beat faster as she turned on her computer and ran a search.
In a matter of moments, she’d found an old newspaper clipping with a photo.
Riley gasped aloud.
I know who he is.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Juliet Bench had just sat down at a table in the train’s lounge car when she saw the man come in from the next car.
There he is again, she thought.
Shortly after she’d boarded the train, the same man had walked past her seat and stopped in the aisle to look at her—just long enough for her to notice—and then he had continued on his way.
And now he stood at the far end of the lounge car, looking at her again.
Do I know him? she wondered. The face didn’t seem familiar.
He was gazing downward now, his hands in his pockets.
Acting like he doesn’t notice me, Juliet thought.
But he looked up at her again and walked straight toward her table.
Juliet wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t travel much, especially by train, and she didn’t like to travel. Would talking to a total stranger make things any better? She doubted it.
When the man reached her table, he said, “Excuse me, but … I see that you’re sitting alone, and …”
Rather surprisingly, the shyness in his voice put her somewhat at ease.
“Please, have a seat,” she said.
The man smiled timidly and sat down.
“Have we met?” Juliet asked.
The man wrinkled his brow curiously.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But you do look remarkably like someone …”
His voice trailed off.
Then he said, “Do you have any family in Dunmore?”
“No,” she said. “I’m from Chicago originally, and my blood relatives are all there. Now I live in Keadle with my husband and two daughters.”
The man’s eyebrows rose.
“Keadle. Well, I don’t know anybody there. I guess it’s just a coincidence—the resemblance, I mean. So were you visiting family in Chicago?”
Juliet felt a stab of sadness. For a moment, she couldn’t say anything.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said. “It’s something sad, isn’t it? Never mind, forget I asked.”
Juliet managed to smile faintly.
“No, it’s all right. My dad passed away. I spent some time with him before he died and stayed for his funeral. He’d been ill for a long time—prostate cancer—so it wasn’t a shock, but still …”
She fell quiet.
The man said, “It’s always sad to lose someone you love. I know what it’s like.”
Juliet noticed a melancholy look in his eye.
Yes, he does know what it’s like, she thought.
And she had to admit, it was nice to talk to someone who knew and understood.
“His passing was peaceful,” Juliet said. “Hospice is such a blessing, and he was able to spend his last days at home, with family all around. My mother was holding his hand during his last moments.”
“Did your husband go to Chicago with you?” the man asked.
“No, he wanted to. Kent and my dad were very close. But someone had to stay at home with the children. Jenna is five, and Amy is seven. Jenna especially is having a hard time understanding that her grandfather is gone. I thought about bringing them along to say goodbye and for the funeral but …”
She paused for a moment, wondering again over something that still worried her.
“Kent and I decided against it. Do you think we were wrong?”
The man shrugged a little.
“I never had children, so I’m afraid I’m not the right person to ask. But … well, five and seven sound awfully young to me. My guess is that you did the right thing.”
Juliet felt a smile form on her face. It was really nice to hear someone say that.
She said, “I was just getting ready to order a glass of wine. Would you …?”
The man smiled.
“I’d love to. Allow me to get it. What will you have?”
“Just an ordinary red wine.”
The man got up and walked toward the bar and ordered the wine.
It now seemed to Juliet that this was turning out nicely. A little friendly company was what she really needed after those sad days in Chicago. She reminded herself that she still had to make the drive home from the station, but it was short and very familiar. One glass of wine wouldn’t hurt.