Page 69 of Fire Harbor

“I can’t find a single Facebook post that belonged to Cillia, Maggie, Susan, Britney, or Keri where Riggs commented or liked. How about you?”

“Nothing on Instagram or TikTok either,” Linus concluded after they’d finished searching the accounts. “There’s no connection to Riggs knowing them on social media whatsoever.”

But Lake was far from convinced. “That we know about. These social media accounts don’t prove or disprove anything. We don’t have access to their private messages. We have one victim who hasn’t even been identified yet from the area where you found Gabby. We don’t know if—”

“I get it,” Linus said in frustration as he powered down his laptop and snapped the lid shut. “I don’t know squat about anything. I’m as much in the dark about the murders tonight as I was the day I found Gabby’s skull.”

“Is that what this is about? You feel responsible for making sure the killer is Riggs because you found Gabby’s remains that day?”

He twisted in his chair. “That day under the bridge, we uncovered a lot of remains—nine in total. Gabby made ten. Everyone there that day was horrified. I defy anyone who saw what I saw not to be bothered or haunted by the sight of it. The victims were all laid out in the shape of a sundial. Brent has photos of the crime scene if you don’t believe me. What kind of monster does that? And is that monster Riggs?”

She laid a hand on top of his. “Okay. You’re tired. You need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s Sunday, we’ll get up and start again, maybe go back out to the bridge. It would also be a good time to ask Jimmy to call his cousin in Denver and get the details of what happened back in 2014. Hear from a survivor firsthand.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds like a plan. I’m sorry I can’t let this go—I really am—but I need to find the connection to Riggs.”

“I understand. Let’s get some sleep and tackle this in the morning. Things might look different tomorrow.”

Chapter Nineteen

Farley, Jack, and Scout woke up early Sunday morning, ready to eat, play, and go for a walk. While Lake fixed breakfast, Linus took them outside to toss the ball around in the backyard. By the time he came back in, Lake was pulling an egg casserole with veggies and potatoes from the oven. The dogs were so tuckered out that they crawled into their beds to take a nap.

“Ah, the sound of silence,” Linus noted as he washed his hands in the sink. “Happy dogs mean that we have the kitchen all to ourselves.” He sniffed the air. “That looks delicious,” he added, wrapping his arms around her waist and trailing kisses along her neck.

She tilted her head to give him better access. “I’m glad to see you’re in better spirits.”

“I thought about what you said last night. It makes sense to follow the same steps as law enforcement. We make sure the eight names we have match the eight victims. But until we have confirmation, it doesn’t hurt to try to find a link to Riggs.”

“I don’t have a problem with that. It’s obvious there are eight sets of remains and eight missing women. The logical assumption would be that they match up. But it would be nice to have the facts before we make fools of ourselves.”

Linus winced, thinking about the fiasco with Derrick Kingsley’s rabbit. He pulled out a kitchen chair to sit. “This time, if anyone makes a fool of themselves, it’ll be me.”

Lake dished up egg casserole onto their plates and sat across from him at the table. “You say that now. But I still remember the sting of embarrassment I felt going after Derrick.” When her phone buzzed with a text, she saw a message from Greta. “She’s asking if I want to go to the flea market in Santa Cruz with her and Abby Anderson.”

“You don’t have to stay here and play detective with me. You should go.”

“Now, why would I do that? We haven’t spent that much time together. Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, I’d like your help. I’ll take care of calling Jimmy and Eastlyn. But if you could find a way to get an update about Callum Riggs, I’d appreciate it.”

“I could call Gloria Peacock. She works for Judge Lanning as a criminal court clerk. Gloria knows everything on the docket about arraignments. My guess is she’ll know what’s happening with Riggs on Monday.”

“Could you call her today and let her know you’re interested in how it goes?”

“Sure. I’ll do it because you seem so sure Riggs isn’t the serial killer.”

After breakfast, they went into separate parts of the house to make their phone calls.

It took Gloria twenty minutes to explain that Riggs had retained two high-powered lawyers. Both attorneys planned a press conference to profess their client’s innocence.

“It’s what they all do, even if they’re caught in the act,” Gloria commiserated. “Keep in mind that Brent’s investigation is just getting started. The FBI is still gathering evidence, tracking down where the components came from that he used in making the explosive devices. They still need to compare what was used at the harbor and what he used when the yacht blew up. Either way, I doubt Callum Riggs is going anywhere anytime soon.”

“What about the serial murders? You haven’t said anything about the remains found or the women who went missing,” Lake pressed.

“For now, there’s no evidence to suggest he’s involved in the serial murders. In fact, he won’t be charged with those. No, what he’s looking at is kidnapping Alice and arson. Maybe even a host of other illegal activities. It’s too soon to know for sure. He was keeping a lot of secrets. My guess is you’ll have neighbors back in Los Gatos shocked and appalled at his actions. They’ll be questioning everything they thought they knew about their once-respected neighbor.”

“If anything changes about the arraignment tomorrow, will you let me know?”

“Absolutely. I’ve already promised three journalists I’d keep them posted on the latest.”

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