Page 12 of Once Marked
The drive was serene as the road unfurled like a ribbon, weaving between pockets of civilization and stretches of natural beauty.Yet, for all its tranquility, Riley’s mind was anything but still.She found herself revisiting each detail, each thread of the case, in search of a pattern.
As they drew closer to Luther Shearer’s world—a world fractured by loss—Riley steeled herself for the encounter.Interviewing the bereaved was never easy.Meeting the loved ones of victims was like navigating a minefield blindfolded; one misstep could end the discussion.But it was a necessary part of the process, a painful step toward finding the truth.She had done this countless times, yet each time felt like the first, every story unique in its pain and its plea for answers.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ann Marie Esmer watched the passing coastal landscape from the passenger seat of Sheriff Beeler’s cruiser.Riley was seated in the back seat reviewing files, oblivious to the blur of tans and greens flashing by outside their windows.
“We’re almost there,” Sheriff Beeler remarked, as he navigated bends in the road.
“Good,” Ann Marie murmured, any further response lost in thought.
The thrill of working with Riley again was strong, yet so was a pang of guilt.Her current position had been made possible by her former partner’s relentless progression of illness.She remembered Grady’s resignation letter, the way his signature wavered at the bottom of the page.Although she and Grady had gotten along just fine, they hadn’t had the natural rhythm she felt when she was partnered with Riley.
They drove into the town of Darnley, where Sheriff Beeler’s car pulled up to a stop outside the Seaspray Hotel.It was a quaint place that the Shearers had owned and operated together for many years.
“Luther Shearer said he’d be here to meet us,” Beeler said, opening the car door.
Ann Marie stepped out, stretching her legs and taking a moment to breathe in the salty tang of the ocean air again.As they entered the hotel lobby, the cheerful chatter of vacationers contrasted sharply with the reason for their visit.It appeared that a competent staff was keeping things going in spite of the tragedy faced by the remaining owner.
While Beeler spoke to the woman at the front desk, Ann Marie gazed around at the eclectic assortment of mismatched armchairs, each with its own unique pattern and color that told a story of its own.Footstools, each differing in texture and height, beckoned visitors to rest their feet and engage in leisurely conversation.The cozy atmosphere invited anyone who entered to sit, chat, and lose track of time.
Soon, a man approached them.He was slender and bent, his face marked with lines of unspeakable loss.Ann Marie took in his red-rimmed eyes and slumped shoulders.She had seen grief manifest in many forms, but it never got easier to witness.
The man nodded to Sheriff Beeler, then turned toward the two agents.Riley introduced them both.
“Mr.Shearer, I’m Special Agent Riley Paige, and this is my partner, Agent Esmer.We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Without comment, Shearer led them to a meeting room just off of the lobby, where the walls were adorned with framed paintings of ocean and beach scenes.They settled into plush, high-backed chairs at one end of a long table.
As soon as Luther began speaking, his frustration became apparent.
“Why won’t the police tell me anything at all, Sheriff?”he demanded.“I still don’t know who found Billie’s body or how.I’m being kept completely in the dark.”
With gentle firmness, Sheriff Beeler explained the need for confidentiality during an ongoing investigation.Then Ann Marie saw Riley nod at her, and she picked up the questioning.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk with us,” Ann Marie began, her voice soft.She watched as Luther tried to compose himself.She remembered the lessons she’d learned from consoling mourners at her father’s funeral home – how to hold space for grief, to listen more than speak, and when to gently probe the tender spots of a wounded soul.
“Anything if it helps find who did this to Billie,” he replied.
“We know this is incredibly difficult for you,” she continued, maintaining eye contact, “but anything you remember could be crucial.We need your help to piece together Billie’s last day – to understand what might have happened.”
Ann Marie asked the necessary questions with a gentle directness, her blue eyes radiating sincerity and concern.She noted how Luther clung to the ‘normal’ details of their last lunch together, as though recounting them might somehow rewind time and erase the current nightmare.He described the chicken salad sandwich Billie ate at lunch, the iced tea she sipped, their shared laughter.
“Then Billie kissed me goodbye,” Luther told them, his gaze distant.“She always did before heading out.Said it brought her good luck.”
“Where was she going?”Ann Marie asked.
“She was headed for a Board of Commissioners meeting at Town Hall,” Luther said.“She was a member of the board.I got a call when she didn’t turn up for the meeting, and then I called the police.”
Sheriff Beeler gave Luther a comforting tap on the shoulder.
“Luther, I need you to tell the agents what you told me when we talked before,” Sheriff Beeler said.“About those emails Billie received.”
Luther turned pale and took a deep breath before speaking.
“In the last few days...Billie started getting these strange emails,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper.“They were from someone we didn’t know, and they had photos of her attached.”
Riley leaned forward in her chair, her eyes sharp.“Photos?”she asked.
