Page 37 of Cold Vengeance

“I think we can mark this one off,” River said. “I doubt it will ever be solved. A man was found along railroad tracks in Kentucky eighteen years ago. It looked like he’d been savagely beaten. The ME said he was somewhere in his thirties, ragged clothing, probably homeless. A police sketch artist put something together, but the face was in such bad shape he couldn’t be completely sure how accurate the image was. The police looked through all of the missing person cases, but no one fit this guy.”

River pulled out her phone and clicked through the pages she’d taken pictures of. “Here’s a copy of the sketch.” She handed her phone to Tony, who looked at it and gave it back to her.

“Pretty generic,” he said.

“I know. The body was never claimed and was buried by a local church who took pity on the man.”

“Nothing else?”

River shook her head. “No, sadly.”

“I agree that we should cross this one off,” Tony said. “Too long ago, and too cold. Did April get any tips?”

“Not really. A couple of people hoping it might be someone in their family who’d gone missing, but it doesn’t look as if those leads panned out.”

“Why don’t we wrap it up and take another crack at this tomorrow morning?” Tony said.

River yawned. “I agree. I’m tired. Time to go home. Do you want to join us for supper?”

“Are you sure it won’t be any trouble?”

River laughed. “You’ve got my mother and Mrs. Weyland wrapped around your little finger. In fact, when I don’t ask you over, they get a little peeved with me.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “They’repeevedwith you, Grandma?”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Where do you get all of these old expressions? Do you spend your down time dressing up like an old woman and chasing old men?”

“No, I spend my time reading books by Jane Austen and Charles Dickens. Great literature. You wouldn’t understand.”

Tony sighed loudly. “Sorry if my books are a little more manly. If anyone used the wordpeevedin a Creston Mapes or Steven James book, they’d be shot.”

“Very funny. I love their books too. But I’m also able to appreciate the classics.”

“I’ve got to call Watson’s daycare and let them know I’ll be late,” Tony said. “And by the way, they’ll be closed tomorrow. The owner’s father passed away. I’ll need to bring Watson to the office with me.”

“I love it when he comes here,” River said. “I’m so glad the landlord allows pets in the building. The graphic design guys have the cutest dogs.”

“They do, don’t they? Bulldogs. Although they do seem to drool a lot.”

“That’s just part of their charm,” River said, laughing.

Tony had just started to say something when the door to their office opened and a man stepped inside. Late forties, early fifties, sharply dressed. The expression on his face was anything but friendly.

“Can I help you?” Tony asked. He got to his feet in case the guy tried something. They were both trained to size up threatening situations and respond quickly. They didn’t know this man, and he was clearly angry. His expression and the way he held himself were dead giveaways.

“You certainly can,” the man said. “You can quit trying to help Nathan Hearne. My daughter is missing, and I think he may have had something to do with it.”

HE SIGHED ASHE WALKEDinto another antique store. How many of these places had he been to so far? Unfortunately, old trunks were becoming popular with people who liked to repurpose them. It was irritating.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He turned to find a young woman standing behind him. He felt his heart race. Brown hair. Green eyes. His usual prey. He hadn’t hunted in a long time, and he felt as if his blood was boiling. But he couldn’t do anything to lose River Ryland. She was his most important trophy. The prey hehadto kill.

“I ... I was looking for an old trunk. It doesn’t have to be in perfect shape.”

Her smile widened. “We have one over here,” she said, waving her hand to her right.

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