Page 42 of See How They Hide

Evan didn’t think he could have gotten here so fast. Something didn’t feel right.

Then the passenger door opened and Evan almost dropped the binoculars and his phone.

Riley.

It couldn’t be Riley. Riley was dead. She had drowned in the lake. Anton and Garrett had seen her go under. She never re-surfaced.

They had a memorial service for her. They buried an empty casket with her favorite things. The carving of a horse that Timmy gave her. Her favorite sweater that Athena had knitted for her the winter before she died. And her artist supplies—the pencils and charcoal and paper Garrett brought in every year.

Evan had cried with Calliope. All of Havenwood wept when Calliope’s daughter died.

Evan had loved Riley like a daughter. Riley and Jane, Timmy and Cal, the four musketeers had been inseparable. And they all left, one way or the other. Dead...or running.

He stared through the glass, zoomed in on her face.

ItwasRiley.

She was alive. She was herewith Andrew.

When Evan could act, when he could finally get his head together and do something, he called Anton. At first, his friend didn’t believe him.

“I swear to you, it’s Riley. It’s her, Anton. She’s alive and she’s with Andrew.”

“Follow her,” Anton said. “We’re leaving now. I’ll let you know when we’re in South Fork. Don’t go back to the house. If you get a chance, kill the traitor and grab Riley.”

“We need to tell Calliope.”

“I watched her drown, Evan. I need to see her with my own two eyes. Then I’ll call Calliope.”

16

South Fork, Colorado

Agent George Stewart from the Denver FBI office picked Kara and Michael up at the airport and filled them in. They were headed to South Fork, Colorado, about four hours from Denver. Ryder and the FBI cybercrime unit had a person of interest—Jesse Morrison, former Colorado State computer programmer, had quit eight years ago and moved into a family home outside the small town of South Fork. While they had no hard evidence that he was a hacker who helped create false identities, Cybercrimes had flagged him because of some suspicious online activities.

Matt wanted them to be cautious when they approached Morrison. As well as all the usual safety issues, Matt had also said, “I don’t want an innocent civilian to have a reason to trash us on social media because we went in without cause.”

Kara slept almost the entire drive and woke up refreshed when they pulled into the sheriff’s department. She let George and Michael work through logistics while she located the bathroom—and more coffee. She was back in the car finishing the second half of the breakfast burrito she’d picked up at the airport when Michael and George came out.

As they climbed into the front of the SUV, Michael said, “The sheriff gave us the lay of the land. They’re following us there for backup, but we’re taking lead on the interview.”

“How far?”

“About fifteen minutes,” George said. “He lives off an unpaved road outside of town. Hopefully the four-wheel drive will get us up the driveway. I looked on a map—he lives half a mile from the highway.”

It took nearly twenty minutes to reach the base of the long, winding packed gravel driveway that led up to Morrison’s house, where two deputies met them. Snow covered most of the driveway, half of which was shaded by trees, but someone had recently driven on the narrow road. Could someone have tipped Morrison off that they were coming?

After coordinating with the deputies, George led the way up the driveway. On the right corner were four mailboxes. On the left corner was a house. Behind the house was a long driveway to the left. They headed straight up the road as it curved to the right toward Morrison’s property.

Kara felt...tingly, as if it was too quiet, too still for a midweek afternoon.

George parked facing the house. A small pickup truck with large, wide wheels was in a carport. Snow had blown in and blocked the back of the vehicle. Ice was thick on the windows. No one had driven it in some time.

George, the senior agent on-site, told the deputies to go around to the side door and hold, and he would back Michael and Kara up in the front. He stayed at the base of the stairs and watched the windows, while Michael led Kara to the front door. Kara always deferred to Michael in tactical situations. He’d been in FBI SWAT for three years, and he had extensive military experience. She’d been an LAPD detective. Completely different skill sets.

Michael rapped hard on the door and said, “FBI looking for—” He stopped as the door slowly swung open.

Kara drew her weapon.

---