Taking, page 15
The bathroom.
An image flashed through Riley’s head of gouged and bloodstained insulation.
But she wondered …
Wouldn’t these troopers have found that already?
Crivaro pulled the bathroom door open, and he and Riley both stared inside with shock.
“Damn it,” Crivaro said.
The interior was absolutely pristine.
The space was surprisingly large, equipped with a sink, a medicine chest, a toilet, and a shower stall. It really didn’t look possible that anything violent had happened here at all—certainly not a brutal, bloody murder.
She heard Crivaro’s growled curse. “Damnation.”
As they turned and headed for the exit, Crivaro told the troopers who were still searching the motor home …
“Keep at it, guys.”
But Riley could hear a note of futility in his voice.
She felt that herself. There was no sign a murder had ever happened here. How could this really be the man they were looking for?
Riley followed Crivaro back out of the RV, where they encountered Sergeant Gray again.
Sergeant Gray said, “Did you find anything?”
Crivaro shook his head silently.
Gray added, “I was about to say—I find it hard to believe the guy we pulled over is a serial killer. For one thing, he’s traveling with his son.”
Crivaro’s eyes widened.
“His son?” Crivaro said.
“Yeah, a ten-year-old kid,” Gray said. “That’s him right over there. Trooper Harris is looking after him.”
Riley looked where Gray pointed. Sure enough, she saw a female trooper watching over a small boy next to one of the patrol cars. The boy didn’t seem the least bit frightened, and the woman appeared to be keeping him entertained. Right now she was letting him play with her badge, pinning it onto his own shirt.
Gray led Riley and Crivaro over to the patrol van and opened the rear door. He introduced them to David Hunter, who was sitting on a bench inside. Then Gray left Riley and Crivaro alone with him.
Unlike his son, David Hunter appeared to be absolutely terrified.
“Would somebody please explain to me what’s going on?” he begged.
Riley and Crivaro both climbed into the van and sat on the opposite bench.
Crivaro began to ask questions, but Riley could see the growing discouragement in her partner’s eyes.
David Hunter told them that he was from Dallas, and he was taking his son on a camping tour of the Southwestern states. David’s wife was at home, and she expected the two of them to be back in time for Christmas.
Hunter readily admitted that he and his son had, in fact, stayed at both the Wren’s Nest Campground and the Spring View Campground. But he claimed to know nothing about the murders except what he’d heard on the radio. He denied having met either Brett Parma or Shelby Eden. They were on their way to take a look at the Grand Canyon from the South Rim, and then they’d head back home.
Riley believed him.
And she could tell by Crivaro’s downcast eyes that he believed him too.
Once he’d finished asking questions, Crivaro awkwardly apologized to Hunter for their unfortunate mistake. They left the unlucky man sitting dumbfounded in the back of the van. Crivaro then instructed Sergeant Gray to let Hunter go.
Riley watched as Hunter climbed out of the patrol van. For a moment he just stood there gazing around, obviously still in a state of confusion.
Then the man’s son came running toward him.
“Daddy!” the boy cried. “Can we go to the Grand Canyon now?”
Hunter pulled himself together. Without another glance at the Highway Patrol and FBI agents standing there, he hurried his boy back to their camper.
Riley knew what that camper looked like inside now because of the hasty search by highway patrolmen looking for signs of murder. She half-expected Hunter to pop right back out again and complain. But he simply closed the camper door and drove away. He was apparently too grateful for the chance to get all this behind him.
Crivaro asked Sergeant Gray, “How many other Class A RVs have you stopped here at this roadblock?”
“Just five,” Sergeant Gray said.
“What kinds of people were in them?” Crivaro asked.
“What you’d expect, mostly. Couples and families out traveling together.”
Crivaro inhaled sharply, then asked, “Any guys traveling alone?”
Sergeant Gray squinted and said, “Now that you mention it, there was one—the last one we pulled over before this one, in fact. I checked him out myself. A pleasant guy, really. Mentioned that he was on his way north to Bryce Canyon, and that he’d be staying in the Crayfish Creek Campground along the way.”
“Did you take down his license plate number?” Crivaro asked.
Gray blushed a little and said, “Well, no. Right while I was talking to him, Chief Wilson called in a with a license number for us to watch out for. So I just let the guy drive on through, didn’t think anything more about him.”
Riley sensed that Crivaro was struggling to keep his impatience in check. She figured maybe she should chime in herself.
“What kind of RV was it?” she asked.
Gray scratched his chin and said, “Nothing unusual. Just a really big white Winnebago, recent make, I think. You know, the kind with the wraparound windshield. You see them all over the place in these parts. This one had a red stripe along the side, if I remember right.”
Crivaro asked, “Did you search inside all the RVs?”
Gray shrugged and said, “Not as thoroughly as we did Hunter’s outfit. But yeah, we looked through them.”
“What about the lone driver’s vehicle?” Crivaro asked. “Did it look clean? Especially the bathroom?”
“Clean as a whistle,” Gray said.
Crivaro murmured almost inaudibly, “Then it wasn’t him.”
He looked down at the ground and shook his head.
Then he said to Sergeant Gray, “Take down this roadblock. Get your people out of here. Before you do, call Chief Wilson and tell him send out word to all the troopers to get rid of all the roadblocks we’ve got around Sedona.”
Gray looked startled by the finality of Crivaro’s decision.
Riley, too, felt unsettled.
She couldn’t remember Crivaro ever sounding so defeated.
Then Crivaro muttered to Riley, “Come on, let’s get back to the car.”
“Where are we going next?” Riley asked as she walked alongside of him.
Crivaro darted a sharp look at her and snapped bitterly …
“Well, that’s a damned good question, isn’t it? Where are we going next, and what are we going to do next? Anyway, you were right about the roadblocks. The killer was probably long gone from the whole area before we set them up. All we succeeded in doing was letting him know we’re looking for his kind of RV. I’ll bet he’s dumped the one he had and is driving something new right now. So I was wrong, and you were right. Does that make you happy?”
Riley was stunned.
“No, it doesn’t make me happy,” she said in a shaky voice as they kept on toward the car. “I always want us to be right—both of us. We’re a team, aren’t we? Why are you talking to me that way? Why are you mad at me? What did I do wrong?”
Crivaro let out a long, discouraged sigh.
“I’m sorry, Riley,” he said. “I’m really, really sorry. That was way out of line.”
They walked the rest of the way to the car in silence and got inside. Crivaro put the key in the ignition, but didn’t bother to start the engine. He just sat there staring at the keychain hanging there.
Then he said in a hushed voice, “What are we going to do, Riley?”
“Huh?” Riley said with surprise.
Crivaro looked into her eyes with an earnest, pleading expression.
“I said, what are we going to do? I’ve got no ideas, kid. I’m stumped. It’s up to you. You’ve got to come up with something.”
Riley could hardly believe her ears.
He wants my advice, she thought.
He needs my advice.
But what on earth was she going to tell him?
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Jake Crivaro sat gazing at his young partner. He knew he was repeating himself when he asked her again …
“What are we going to do?”
He had no answer to the question, and apparently Riley didn’t either.
Instead of replying, she just stared at him with a stricken expression. Jake couldn’t help but turn away. The words he’d just said to her had been remarkably stupid.
“I was wrong, and you were right. Does that make you happy?”
Now he could feel his whole body cringe.
That really was out of line, he thought.
Worse than out of line.
What the hell is wrong with me?
But the truth was, Jake knew perfectly well what was wrong.
He was feeling discouraged. No, more than discouraged.
He was feeling positively burnt out.
And of course, he’d been feeling that for some time now.
Should he just come out and admit it to Riley?
Maybe he should just flat-out tell her the truth—that one of the reasons he’d taken her on as a partner was his own feeling of exhaustion, his worry that it was time to put away his badge and retire from the BAU. He’d wanted to make sure that someone with his own talents would be ready to take his place.
But he couldn’t tell her all of that yet.
She wasn’t ready.
And maybe the BAU wasn’t ready for Riley either. Even though Special Agent in Charge Erik Lehl was usually supportive, he didn’t yet understand what Jake and Riley could do.
It wasn’t Lehl’s fault. The man was perfectly competent. But how could anyone without this ability to see into a killer’s mind understand how it worked—how randomly, how spontaneously those insights came? And how difficult they could be to understand?
Even worse, Riley might be partnered with someone who would try to “shape her up” and make her like other agents.
No, he couldn’t leave until Riley was strong enough, secure enough with her abilities, to do this job without him.
Meanwhile, his question, “What are we going to do?” was still unanswered.
Jake took a long, slow breath and said, “For starters, before we go anywhere else I think we should get out of these stupid shorts.”
He was relieved to hear Riley give a brief laugh.
They took turns changing clothes in the motor home bathroom, and soon they both looked like FBI agents again, with their holstered guns in place.
Theirs was now the only vehicle pulled off on the side of the road. The Highway Patrol had left, and they still hadn’t made a decision about what they should do next.
Jake poked into the RVs refrigerator and found some leftovers they’d never finished. He pulled them out and put them on the table, then slid into one of the seats.
“Water?” Riley asked.
He nodded and she poured two glasses and took the seat across from him.
He took a drink of water, and then asked, “What about a profile? We haven’t discussed that much. What do you think you can tell us about the killer?”
He watched as Riley stared out the window for a moment. He could tell that her capable mind was clicking away looking for an answer to his question. He felt a renewed pang of admiration for his young protégé.
Then she said, “He’s rich, I think we can be pretty sure of that. I mean, he’s got some kind of big, expensive motor home all to himself. He’s driving it to resort campgrounds all over the Southwest, and he’s got time to do it in. He’s got to be really well off.”
Jake nodded and waited for her to say more.
She said, “We also know he’s a misogynist who loves to make women feel helpless and terrified when he’s killing them. If he’s a high-profile, public sort of personality, he’s probably got some kind of reputation to that effect. I doubt there are any actual police records of spousal abuse or rape or assault—with his money, he can get away with just about anything. But things like that might show up in his divorce papers. And he’s probably been married and divorced quite a few times. It also might be general public knowledge that he behaves badly toward women. Maybe even a few tabloid stories.”
Jake was pleased by what he was hearing so far. Of course, it was completely speculative, and Riley might even be entirely wrong. But since he didn’t have any ideas of his own, he was willing to consider anything she might have to say.
Riley squinted hard and said, “I’m having trouble thinking of anything else.”
Fortunately, Jake had an idea of how to coach her along.
“You just said he can get away with anything with his money,” he said. “What does that tell you?”
Riley looked at him and said, “It tells me he’s arrogant. He thinks he’s superior and entitled. And he just naturally assumes that justice is never going to catch up with him. Actually, he thinks justice is on his side. He thinks he’s got a perfect right to do awful things to other people. He’s above criticism, and above the law. And so far he’s usually been right.”
Jake added, “A rich sociopath, then?”
“I think so,” Riley said. “Which means he’s also charming, especially toward his victims, and also toward anyone who might start suspecting him.”
Riley thought for a moment, then added …
“But I think but there’s one big difference between him and most sociopaths. Murder isn’t a game for him. It’s … it’s more like a leisure activity, like fishing or hiking. This really and truly is like a vacation as far as he’s concerned …”
Riley’s voice trailed away. She fell quiet again, but Jake sensed that an idea was growing in her mind.
Then she looked him straight in the eyes and said …
“Agent Crivaro, we’ve got to go north.”
Jake was startled. He hadn’t expected her to say anything like this.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Riley leaned toward him. “Do you remember what Sergeant Gray said about the guy they let go—the only guy they pulled over who was traveling all by himself? I think it was him after all.”
Jake squinted hard and said, “But Gray said they checked the bathroom.”
“I know, but maybe Sergeant Gray remembers the search wrong. Maybe they didn’t get around to that bathroom. After all, they got in kind of a rush while they had him there. Then they suddenly got that other name, Hunter, and a license number to look for. There was no reason to think they should pay more attention to the RV they were searching. Besides, Gray probably hasn’t dealt with a real sociopath before. In a rush like that, the killer could have made him believe just about anything.”
Jake stroked his chin and said, “Including that Gray’s men had searched the RV more thoroughly than they really had?”
“I think maybe so.”
Jake shook his head and murmured softly, “Riley, I don’t know. It sounds to me like you’re reaching. And anyway, if you’re right about it being a guy they let go, he got away without leaving much information about himself. All we know is that he’s driving a big Winnebago with a red stripe along the side. God knows how many vehicles there are exactly like it on the road. We can’t exactly put out an APB with so little to go on.”
Riley nodded and said, “That’s why we’ve got to go after him ourselves. It’s up to us, nobody else.”
“But why should we head north after him?” Jake said. “We don’t even know where he’s going.”
Riley smiled, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Oh, I think we do,” she said. “He told Gray he was on his way to the Crayfish Creek Campground up around Bryce Canyon.”
“And you think he wasn’t lying?” Jake said.
“That’s exactly what I think,” Riley sad. “It’s like I was just saying, he’s arrogant and sure of himself. He didn’t bother to lie. He enjoyed the risk—and he didn’t even think it was a very big risk, considering all the really huge risks he’s been taking lately. He didn’t figure anyone was going to follow him.”
Jake sat thinking it over silently. He couldn’t quite convince himself that Riley was onto something.
In a more urgent voice, Riley added, “Agent Crivaro, I don’t have anywhere near the field experience you do. But I’ve studied a lot about sociopathic killers at the Academy. And I know they’re almost always too confident for their own good. Sooner or later, they trip themselves up. And I think that’s what’s happening right now. He’s given us a glimpse of how his mind works.”
Jake crinkled his brow as he struggled with what he was hearing. He reminded himself how he’d been feeling—completely burnt out, with no idea of how to proceed.
And the truth was, he still didn’t have any ideas.
He couldn’t help but wonder …
Am I in any state of mind to question Riley’s instincts?
After all, her gut had been right at times when his own gut was wrong. And right now his own gut wasn’t giving him anything at all to work with. The choice seemed to be to either follow Riley’s gut and at least drive somewhere, or sit right here for God knew how long wondering what to do next.
But maybe what mattered most was that he still owed her for his cruel outburst a few moments ago—and he owed her a lot more than an apology.
I owe her a chance to follow her gut, no matter whether she’s right or wrong.
And if she proved to be wrong—well, mistakes were part of the learning process.
Jake nodded slowly and said, “OK, we’ll try it your way.”
Riley grinned and clapped her hands with gratitude.
Jake added, “But since this is your idea, it’s your turn to drive this damn tub.”
Riley scrambled up, cleared away the remains of their snack, then fairly bounded to the RV cab and into the driver’s seat.
Still feeling tired and discouraged, Jake climbed into the passenger seat. As Riley pulled out onto the road, he still couldn’t help thinking they were following a blind alley.
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