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perfectly normal, just like regular folks.”
With a self-deprecating laugh, he’d added …
“Maybe I just can’t do normal.”
Not for the first time, it occurred to Riley that Crivaro must be a very lonely man.
If his work was the only thing that gave his life meaning, if he felt that he’d missed out on something, then naturally this perfectly normal, happily retired couple could stir up melancholy feelings in him.
Was loneliness one reason he’d brought her along on this peculiar trip?
There had been moments when Riley had felt that Crivaro was more like a real father to her than that bitter ex-Marine who lived alone in the mountains. At least he sometimes praised her for doing something well, which was more than her actual father ever did.
She wondered …
Does he ever think of me as a daughter?
The group finished eating and headed on out to the parking lot. Riley was relieved that the weather was actually very pleasant. Warm, but not hot or humid. Maybe the clothes she had with her would serve after all.
She’d expected to see the whole camping rig from the photos, but they were just headed toward a truck.
“Where’s the camper?” Crivaro asked.
“That’s the beauty of our rig,” Jillian replied. “We can disconnect the house and leave it in the campground while we drive around in our … um … extended car. Not as fancy as some, but it’s very practical.”
Crivaro and Harry climbed into the front seats, and Riley and Jillian got into the wide back seat.
As Harry drove out of the airport, he started to regale Crivaro with more small talk—what routes they had taken coming south from Colorado, where they intended to go next, what places they visited every winter, even where they’d found good restaurants along the way. It seemed to Riley that he had an endless supply of trivial things to talk about, but Crivaro appeared to be listening contentedly, apparently not bored at all.
Riley tuned that conversation out. She was grateful that Jillian, sitting beside her, didn’t seem inclined to indulge in similar meaningless chatter.
But then, Riley wondered, should she be saying something like that to Jillian, if only to be polite?
As Harry pulled onto the freeway and headed north, Jillian spoke up. “I see that you’re engaged.”
Riley was startled by the remark, but quickly realized that Jillian was looking at her engagement ring.
She smiled and said, “Yes, I am.”
Jillian half-smiled as she asked, “Have you set a date for the wedding?”
Riley gulped at the question.
“Uh, no, not yet,” she said.
The truth was, she and Ryan had no idea just when the date would be. Sometimes it seemed like the whole idea was little more than a fantasy.
“Well,” Jillian said, “I wish you every happiness.”
Jillian then turned her head and gazed out the window.
Riley felt a lot of meaning in those words.
“I wish you every happiness.”
Jillian and her husband certainly seemed to have found happiness. But Riley sensed that their happiness had been hard won, and that Harry’s work in law enforcement hadn’t made things easy for them.
Riley found herself thinking about her own future.
What was in store for her?
She and Ryan had sometimes been wonderful together. But she was afraid that any lasting happiness might be hard won for them, too.
Would she eventually have a happy retirement with someone she loved?
Or was she going to wind up alone like Agent Crivaro?
Riley looked out the window on her side of the truck. The landscape outside was unlike anything she’d ever seen, except in pictures. Apart from areas where people had built structures and cultivated greenery, this land looked lifeless to her.
Somewhere in a desert setting like this, a young woman had been brutally robbed of her life. Had the same monster killed before?
If so, Riley and Crivaro had to put a stop to his murders once and for all.
CHAPTER SIX
As the truck neared the town of Tunsboro, Riley noticed that Jillian was getting uneasy again.
And maybe with good reason, Riley thought.
The two men in the front seats weren’t talking about road trips and other trivia now. Harry had turned off his steady flow of inane chatter and gotten back to the topic that was most on his mind.
“You know, I’m starting to come up with a theory about those two murders,” he said. “Want to hear it?”
Riley heard Jillian let out a gasp. She knew the woman must be worried that her husband would renege on his promise not to get mixed up in the case at the last possible minute.
Looking irritated, Crivaro just grumbled inaudibly.
Riley got the distinct feeling that his intended answer was “no.” But Harry was clearly determined to talk about his theory anyway.
“I think—no, I’m almost sure—the killer is a camper, someone who hops from campground to campground.”
“Someone like you?” Crivaro asked wryly.
Harry chuckled and said, “Yeah, like me except for the years spent catching slime like that. But in a way, yeah, you’re kind of right. The killer has to be someone who blends right in with the whole campground culture. Campgrounds have got to be where he stalks his victims.”
Crivaro shook his head. “I don’t know, Harry …”
Harry ignored him and babbled on about his theory. Riley felt as though she could understand Crivaro’s skepticism. Even if Harry was right and the two murders were connected, that certainly didn’t mean the killer had “stalked” anybody. She knew that some murders were spontaneous acts that resulted from chance encounters. Besides, wouldn’t most campers travel in groups, or at least in pairs? The idea of a psychotic camper prowling the nation’s campgrounds seemed a bit farfetched.
Finally Harry said, “Now, Jake, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but …”
Riley could see Crivaro wince at those words. He grumbled again, “It’s not actually my job.”
That didn’t even slow Harry down. He continued, “I think you and your partner should start going to campgrounds, ask the people there a lot of questions. Sooner or later you’ll get just the clue you need.”
Crivaro rolled his eyes, and Riley couldn’t help but sympathize.
Still not noticing Crivaro’s dismay, Harry kept right on.
“Mind you, you and your partner can’t just march into a campground looking like you do right now. Hell, you’ve got ‘FBI’ written all over you. I know campers, and most of them are perfectly friendly, and they’ll talk to you no matter who you are. But we do get all kinds of people out there. Some of them are more—what’s the word?”
“Reserved,” Jillian grumbled. “Some of them are just shy.”
“Yeah, that’s it, shy,” Harry said. “Some of them really like to keep to themselves. And if any of those shy ones know anything, they’ll skitter off the second they catch sight of you. I guess what I’m saying is, the two of you have got to go undercover, pretend to be campers yourselves. You can say you’re