Neither spoke as they moved into the kitchen that dated back to the seventies. An inspection of appliances told her this room would also need massive work. But there was the morning light and a tremendous view of rolling green fields.
She walked to a large picture window that offered a stunning view of the river. This alone would be reason enough to buy the house. “How’d you find this place?”
“Out driving one day and saw the ‘For Sale’ sign.”
“I suppose it fits. You strike me as a traditional kind of guy.”
Lines at the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled. “And you’re not traditional?”
“I might have been born into it, but it didn’t take.” Despite her upbringing, she’d never imagined herself living in a house like this one. She reached in her bag and pulled the DVD out. “I’m not sure why I’m trusting you with this.”
“Why are you?” His body was relaxed, but tension hummed behind the words.
“You might be my best chance to solve this.”
She handed him the DVD, which she’d dropped into a zip-top bag. His fingers barely brushed hers as he accepted it.
He hesitated before he touched the disc. “Should I wear gloves?”
“My prints are all over the exterior package, but I put on gloves before I touched the DVD case and disc.”
He put on latex gloves without a word, moved to a DVD player, carefully inserted the video, and hit “Play.” Slowly he stepped back and stood next to Riley.
Instinctively, she tensed, bracing for the image and his reaction. She feared he’d see her as a victim. She feared he’d treat her differently. And she wanted no one’s pity. Especially Bowman’s.
Her image appeared. Behind her were the cream-colored drapes, thick carpet, and a Queen Anne table overlooking a glittering skyline. Music played soft and delicate in the background.
Folding her arms over her chest, Riley forced herself to breathe as she watched Bowman’s jaw clench. He flexed the fingers on his right hand as if he wanted to punch the screen.
He hit “Replay” and watched the recording again.
When the camera moved closer to the chair and focused on her tied hands, Bowman looked away from the screen and studied her reaction. “When did this arrive?”
“Last night.” She nodded. “Watch.”
Old hands reached for the girl’s chin; her dark hair fell back, and looking at the camera was a seventeen-year-old Riley.
He paused the frame and stepped closer to the screen. For a long moment he said nothing.
Riley chewed the inside of her cheek, clamping down the rise of fear and nausea that rushed her each time she saw this. The young girl in the video moaned. She forced herself not to hear. Her throat tightened.
“How did you receive this?” Bowman demanded.
“It was waiting on the front porch of my home.”
“You found it?”
“No, Hanna did yesterday.”
“Did Hanna open the package?”
“No. She left it on the kitchen table for me with a note.”
“You’re sure she didn’t see the video?”
“Yes. The package was undisturbed, and when she came home, she was her normal self. Nothing out of the ordinary for a teenage girl.”
“Do any of your neighbors have security cameras around their houses?”
“Not that kind of neighborhood. Working-class folks don’t have that kind of money. But I made a point to check for cameras along the block this morning when I walked Cooper.”
“Did you talk to your neighbors? Did anyone see anything?”
“No. But I can follow up today.”
“I’ll do that.”
“But these are my neighbors.”
“I’m impartial. Better from me. I’ll find a way to leave you out of it. Any memories of how you landed in that room?”
“I have no idea. I have seven missing days. I was accepting something to drink one minute, and the next I was stumbling off the bus in Richmond a thousand miles away.”
“And you gave the cards to Sharp?”
“Yes. But I took pictures of them.” She scrolled through her phone and showed him the spread.
“A royal flush? There are four possible royal flushes out of 2.6 million possible hands. To say you were lucky would be a huge understatement.”
“I knew it was good. Didn’t know it was that rare.”
He studied the photos she’d taken of the back of the cards. “Just like the ones we found on the victims in New Orleans, except no writing on yours.”
“Like the ones I found in Vicky Gilbert’s backpack.” She tumbled through the facts of the Gilbert case as Bowman viewed the pictures. “Vicky and I share similarities. Runaways, but neither of us had been on the streets long. We do look alike. I didn’t realize how much until I saw the video. I’d forgotten how long my hair used to be.”
“You haven’t changed that much.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “Please don’t say that in public. Looking like a teenager doesn’t help my badass image unless I’m going undercover at the local high school.”
“Understood.”
Energy buzzed in her body, creating a wave of panic. “I thought it was all behind me. But the Shark is circling back, isn’t he?”
“You’re not alone in this, Riley.”
Her gaze shot up, searching for some kind of resolution. “It’s ironic I track fugitives and now I’m on the receiving end.”
“You aren’t prey.”
Tears threatened, which only stoked her anger. “The hell I’m not.”
He closed the gap and laid a hand on her arm. More energy surged up, but this time it didn’t snap and burn. It tingled. In a good way.
Slowly, she pulled her arm away, knowing she didn’t need to complicate what was already pretty damn complicated. Though she’d broken the connection, he didn’t back away.
Her phone hummed so she checked the screen, grateful for the interruption.
Sandy had sent her a text.
Cassie is missing.
Riley typed: How long?
Since last night. She texts me every hour.
Frowning, she pictured the young runaway girl she’d met at the truck stop a few days ago. She looked up from the phone and found Bowman’s gaze full of questions.
“Homicide?”
“I hope not. I interviewed a couple of the runaways when I was looking for Darla. Sandy and Cassie. Sandy says Cassie is missing.”
“Does she fit the profile?”
“No. She has blond hair. Small. ID says eighteen but I doubt it.” She texted Sandy for details. “Sandy says that Darla cut a deal with Tony for the girl.”
His chest rose and fell with a sigh. “She’s blond.”
“That’s fixed with a bottle of hair dye,” she said. “Darla already had a connection to this network. I need to find Sandy and find out what’s going on.”
“I’ll back you up.”
She shook her head. “No thanks, I have this.”
“Did you note the lack of a question mark at the end of my statement?”
“Jesus, Bowman, you helped me out on the mountain. And now, on the streets?”
“Technically, it’s your day off. If anyone were wondering, we could simply say we were out for a stroll.”
That prompted a laugh. “That’s the last thing anyone would picture us doing.”
“I can’t control what they believe.” He tapped his finger on the DVD case. “Can I keep this? I have a tech guy who can analyze it. He can separate out background sounds, reflected images, and do things you and I couldn’t imagine.”
She’d laid bare her darkest secret to him without knowing much about him. It wasn’t like her to be open, but urgency tilting toward desperation had forced her hand. The frozen image of her drugged face stared back. “That cannot go public. None of your buddies at the FBI, CIA, or anywhere else can see it.”
“Just my people will see it. They are a
lways discreet.”
She cringed. “I might regret this, but fine. Keep it. But if you find anything that will help Sharp’s murder investigation, I want you to give it to him.”
“Of course.”
Rising, she drew in a breath. Cooper stood, looking up at her and waiting for his next order. She took a small step back, folding her arms. “I don’t like having it in my house anyway.”
Bowman followed her to the door, opening it for her. “Payback for this killer is coming, Riley. Just a little more time.”
“I hope so.”
Floorboards creaked as he shifted his weight. “I’ll be there.”
She looked up at him. “I’m betting a lot on that.”
“Where are you going to meet Sandy?”
“There’s a truck stop off the interstate where a lot of the girls are working now.” She gave Bowman the location.
“I’m five minutes behind you.”
“You were an hour behind me in the woods and caught up. How’d you do that?”
“I was motivated.”
“Why were you there at all?”
A smile tugged the edge of his lips. “Civic duty.”
“Does Shield Security do these things often?”
“From time to time.”
“Why this case?” she asked.