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?”
“Hard to tell,” Bowman said.
“Whatever you need to get this case solved, consider it done. He’s close and we have a real chance of catching the son of a bitch.”
“Roger that. She’s now my number-one priority.”
Riley placed a call to Sharp and repeated the conversation she’d had with Rebecca Wayne. He agreed to join her so they could conduct the interview together.
It was minutes before three when Riley and Sharp arrived at the school. Both got out and leaned against the car, enjoying a moment of fresh air and sunshine.
“I ran a background check on Darla Johnson,” Sharp said.
Riley leaned forward, her interest keen. “Carter’s girlfriend?”
Sunglasses glinted as he tipped his face toward the sun. “She’s twenty-three years old and has a list of priors that rivals her boyfriend’s. Assault, drug trafficking, and drunk driving make her a perfect fit for Carter. Johnson is a high school dropout and has no primary job. A real piece of work.”
“Any idea where she might be now?” Riley asked.
“I’ve issued a BOLO, but no luck finding her yet.”
“Flushing out Darla is not going to be easy.”
“I agree.”
“Unless we have the right bait.”
He tipped his face toward her, his expression unre
adable. “What do you have in mind?”
“Her kind often trolls on social media. I could dig out a picture of me when I was nineteen and set up a page and start posting comments about how hard my life is and how no one understands me.” She had a picture taken of her at nineteen when her hair flowed around her shoulders. She was smiling in the photo, but her eyes reflected a darkness that showed life had not been a piece of cake. It was perfect.
Sharp remained silent as if mulling the idea.
“The page is only intended to find her. And I’ll even use my real name so no lawyer can ever accuse me of using a false identity.”
“What name are you using?”
“Elizabeth Riley Tatum. My mother called me Beth.”
“Beth Tatum?”
Sensing his interest, she said, “I’ll send friend requests to Vicky’s high school pals. If a couple accept, I’ll look more legit.”
He considered her idea. “Set up a page. But if you get any kind of bite, I want to know about it.”
“Done.”
The afternoon bell rang and as the hundreds of kids poured out of the school, she texted Rebecca. The girl responded back within seconds, and they agreed to meet at the bleachers near the tennis courts.
Riley and Sharp stood in the afternoon sun, soaking up the warmth and the breeze. They watched as the kids assembled by the tennis courts, and when one girl hung back from the crowd, Riley nodded. “I think that’s her.”
“Okay.”
The girl was a tall, leggy blonde wearing a tennis skirt. Her hands trembled as she pretended to adjust the strings on her racket. “Can I make initial contact?”
“Sure.”
Both pulled their badges and walked toward the girl with Riley taking the lead. “Rebecca Wayne?”
Rebecca responded to a text on her phone and looked up. “Trooper Tatum?”