Page 15 of See How They Hide

In the car, Sloane asked Matt, “Do you think that the killers are going to show up?”

“It’s always a possibility. In this case? I doubt it. A stranger would stand out in this town. But I need to cover all the bases.”

Halfway back to Quantico, Ryder called.

“The Santa Fe County sheriff in New Mexico just posted an alert,” Ryder said. “Male in his early thirties found dead off a hiking trail outside Santa Fe. He’s been dead for a while, and they found several red poppies under his body.”

6

Ashland, Oregon

Kara was in a crabby mood.

It was late Monday afternoon and she was hungry, frustrated, and had spent the last two hours listening to the task force go over everything they already knew.

She needed to be working in the field, looking for Riley Pierce, not sitting in a conference room. But she was stuck here because her idea to stake out the bakery and Ashley’s apartment had been nixed.

She had the feeling that Detective Ken Kinder didn’t believe she’d seen Riley. He didn’t outrightsayit, but he was skeptical, and suggested that because Kara had found the box with her picture, she may have mistaken another girl with red hair for Riley.

It waspossible, Kara supposed, but she wasalmostcertain it was Riley.

They hadn’t received a response to Ryder’s request for flight information yet. It wasn’t like he could just press a couple of buttons andvoila!confirm Riley Pierce had flown in from France this week. There was aprocess, and while they didn’t need a warrant, it still took time.

So she had to wait. Fortunately, Matt leaned toward her assessment, and had Riley Pierce—who did have a passport—flagged. If she checked into any flight in the US, she would be detained for questioning. She wasn’t considered a suspect in Jane’s murder, just a person of interest.

Unless, of course, they found out that she was in the country at the time of the murder.

The question that had been bugging Kara—and honestly, everyone else—was how did the killer convince Jane to meet with him?

No sign of disturbance at her apartment. She hadn’t left a note for her roommate about where she was going. No common drugs in her system, though they were sending samples to the state lab for more thorough testing. She was found two miles from her home in Lithia Park, which was closed at night—not that the “sunrise to sunset” hours kept people out of the park when it was dark. She had her cell phone on her, but her last text was in response to her roommate who said she would be home in the morning because she was staying at David’s. Jane sent a thumbs-up emoji and the response:I’ll bring you the oopses from Nana’s!Nana’s was the bakery where Jane worked mornings, five to nine, three days a week. The “oopses” were imperfect pastries that the owner let staff take when their shift was over.

Police had talked to everyone at the bakery; the owner was concerned when Jane didn’t show up without a call because “not once” had she missed a day of work in three years.

The task force had already run everyone who worked at the bakery, interviewed them about customers who may have paid Jane too much attention, talked to fired employees. They’d spoken with professors and classmates and neighbors. She wasn’t a member of any clubs.

Jane hadn’t been sexually assaulted. She hadn’t been tortured. There were no defensive wounds. Either she’d gone willingly with someone she trusted who killed her, or she’d been surprised and the killer—without hesitation—had slit her throat.

There had been two killers at the Benson homicide based on footprint evidence; he also had no defensive wounds and hadn’t alerted his wife that anything was wrong. He, too, left his home voluntarily, either because he didn’t perceive a threat or because he was trying to protect his wife.

But Jane had no one to protect. Or did she? Had she known Riley was in town or coming to town?

It was enough to give Kara a splitting headache. The case, and the lack of food.

“Earth to Detective Quinn.”

She jumped, looked around the table. Her partner, Michael, had spoken and he looked at her with mild humor.

“Sorry. Thinking.”

“You can go to the hotel and catch a few winks,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled tightly at the assembled group. The sheriff, the DA, Detective Kinder, the deputy coroner, a uniformed cop who worked with Kinder, and Agent Tucker from the local FBI office. “Did I miss something?”

“Ryder just confirmed that Riley Pierce flew into the States yesterday,” Michael said. “Her passport was used at the De Gaulle Airport, transfer at JFK to Seattle, landed late last night. No rental car, but she could have taken a bus from Seattle to Ashland. We’re checking terminals. Which would put her getting in sometime this morning to early afternoon.”

“Do we know when she bought the ticket?”

“Wednesday—the same day Detective Kinder left her a message.”

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