Page 33 of Once Marked
Riley offered no protest—her mind already mapping out the next steps.
“No need for me to drive up there with the three of you,” the police chief added.“I’ve got all I need to deal with right here in town.”
Riley stood and said, “We’d better get going.”She turned to Thorne and added, “Chief, thank you for showing us around Sandhaven.The man you’re holding is guilty harassment and stalking at the very least, and also resisting arrest.I’m sure you’ll make some of those charges stick.I’m glad we could help you bring him in.It’s a good arrest.”
As they all stood to go, Riley felt a surge of relief—a fleeting victory against doubt.This visit to Tidal Beauties was a gamble, her instincts propelling her forward when logic offered little reassurance.She just wasn’t ready to give up on this case, and this would serve as the next—and possibly last—item on their checklist.
They filed out of the café, Riley and Ann Marie trailed behind Beeler and Thorne, giving the veteran lawmen space to lead while exchanging a glance that spoke volumes.Both women understood what lay ahead: they needed something solid to indicate that the killer they sought wasn’t already in jail.But with so little to go on, this long shot at Tidal Beauties could very well determine whether their involvement in the case ended or not—unless they came up with another line of investigation.
Ann Marie leaned toward Riley, her expression earnest beneath the waning light.“Riley, you know this is a Hail Mary, right?What if this doesn’t pan out?We can’t keep grasping at straws.”
Riley nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the uneven pavement ahead.
“I know,” she admitted, the admission tasting bitter.“But something about this case doesn’t feel right.”Her intuition, that elusive sixth sense honed by years of profiling, nagged at her like a splinter she couldn’t remove.
“So what are we missing?”Ann Marie asked.
Riley exhaled slowly, her breath carrying the weight of uncertainty.
“That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”The admission was a reluctant confession from a woman who built her career on chasing down the obscure.But she knew that admitting doubt was sometimes the first step toward uncovering the overlooked.
She looked at Ann Marie, seeing the reflection of her own turmoil mirrored in the younger agent’s earnest gaze.Their questions went unanswered as they continued to follow the receding figures of Beeler and Thorne.Riley knew her answers to those questions would shape more than just the immediate future—it would ripple through her conscience, through sleepless nights and the echoes of victims’ voices.
“Ann Marie,” Riley said, “I keep thinking about them—the victims.”Her gaze lingered on a family passing by, laughter trailing behind them like a lifeline.“They deserve answers, and they deserve justice.We still haven’t given them that.”
Ann Marie nodded, her youthful face set in a grim line that seemed out of place amidst her usually vibrant demeanor.“We’ll do that Riley.”
“I hope so,” Riley said.“But what if we’re just chasing ghosts?
“Maybe we are,” Ann Marie responded, her voice tinged with the wisdom of someone who’d seen more than her years should allow.“But sometimes, ghosts do lead us to facts.”
Riley considered that—the idea that the intangible could guide them to something concrete.It was a sliver of hope, thin and fragile, yet it was there.
She thought of the victims again, their lives snuffed out too soon, leaving ripples of grief and questions.Of their families, who waited with bated breath for any word that might bring solace.And somewhere, possibly, a killer watching, waiting, confident in their obscurity.
It was a heavy burden, the weight of unknown lives resting on their shoulders, the threat of more bloodshed a silent clock ticking away in the background.Riley turned to Ann Marie, her partner’s eyes reflecting the fading light, earnest and filled with an intensity that belied her experience.
Ann Marie said, “But we have to face the possibility that we might be wrong.If this visit doesn’t yield anything, are you prepared to go back to Quantico?”
The question was a good one.
Was she ready to abandon the chase, to return to the sanctuary of her office at the BAU?
We need a break,Riley thought.Something that tells us there’s a solution to be found, a clue that we’re on the right track.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Riley squinted against the bright glare bouncing off the store’s display window, where an assortment of vintage bathing suits vied for attention.The quaintness of the shop called Tidal Beauties seemed at odds with the grim reason for their visit.
Ann Marie stood beside her, adjusting her sunglasses, and Sheriff Beeler headed on past them and through the front door.They followed him inside, and Riley saw racks brimming with swimwear from times long past.Mannequins in pin-up poses showcased the best of the collection, their plastic smiles frozen in time.One counter was cluttered with an array of vintage accessories: cat-eye sunglasses lay in artful disarray beside colorful beach bags and ornate swim caps that looked like they belonged on the silver screen rather than a modern-day beach.
An older man was standing behind a glass counter.His weather-beaten face revealed countless days spent under the coastal sun.The salt-and-pepper beard gave him a distinguished look, the kind of local character who might be featured in a travel magazine article extolling the virtues of small-town living.
“Good afternoon, Sheriff,” he said to Beeler, “I see you’ve brought reinforcements with you.”
“Steven, these are Agents Paige and Esmer from the FBI,” Beeler said, gesturing toward his companions.“The owner of this shop, Steven Walsh.”
Walsh’s expression shifted subtly, the friendly lines around his eyes tightening just enough to suggest the gravity of their presence wasn’t lost on him.“Heard on the news that the FBI was in the banks,” he replied, hands clasping over one another atop the counter.“Another murder, they’re saying?Terrible business, that.”
