Page 16 of Once Marked
“Ms.Sitwell, I’m about to show you something that I trust you won’t reveal to anybody.Once you see it, I’m sure you’ll agree that it mustn’t be made public—at least not yet.”
Riley’s thumb hovered over the screen of her cellphone, the images she was about to reveal were stark reminders of the brutality humans were capable of.She met Sitwell’s eyes, seeking an unspoken consent before swiping through the gallery.
The photos appeared: Julie Sternan and Billie Shearer posed on the beach, their lifeless forms adorned in swimsuits from eras long past.
Sitwell’s eyes darted across the digital canvas, taking in every cruel detail—the fixed stares, the unnatural poses, the sense of history corrupted.But how was she reacting internally to these images?
I can’t get a read on her,Riley thought with an odd twinge of unease.
“Good God,” Sitwell said, almost mechanically.“What is this?”
Riley explained that the women’s bodies had been found clad like this postmortem.
“Two victims, two different times and places, yet a pattern that’s more than coincidence,” Riley stated flatly.“You asked what you should do.We need your help to protect the public without sparking undue fear or confusion.For example, we can’t reveal the information about the vintage swimsuits.That could really blow back against our whole investigation.”
Sitwell looked up from the phone.“How can I help?What do you suggest?”
Riley considered her words carefully.She had done this before—balancing the need for public awareness with the risk of causing hysteria.
“A lot of people already know about the deaths.We should issue a warning to the community, particularly women, alerting them to be vigilant.Throughout the Outer Banks, they should avoid being out and about alone.We keep it general: no specifics about the swimsuits or the manner of death.Just enough to encourage caution, not panic.”
“Will that be enough?”Ann Marie chimed in, her voice laced with concern.
“It has to be,” Riley replied, looking at Sitwell.“For now.”
“Alright,” Sitwell conceded.“I’ll issue a general warning and hold off on any of that specific information until you give the go-ahead.Just...please, keep me informed.”
Riley nodded at this gesture of cooperation, but she studied Sitwell’s face a moment too long for either of their comfort.Finally it dawned on her that she’d contended with Sitwell’s type too many times to count—a bureaucrat so devoted to appearances and political necessities that her reactions to human tragedy had been long since dulled.
Not much of a person there,she thought.
But Riley knew better than to be surprised.It was an old, old story.She turned, more than ready to get out of the office and return to the tangible elements of the case, where she felt more at home.She and her two colleagues left the building and returned to Sheriff Beeler’s cruiser.
“Let’s hope the message gets through to the public,” Beeler grunted as he unlocked the doors, his seasoned features set in a grim line.
Riley slid silently into the passenger seat, her thoughts already leaping ahead to what awaited them.She felt the familiar tug of responsibility, the relentless drive that both propelled and haunted her.
As the cruiser pulled away, Riley let her gaze drift across the quaint townscape of Teomoc.
“Scudmore’s about half an hour from here,” Beeler stated as he checked the rearview mirror before merging onto the highway leading out of Teomoc.“I’ll show you the crime scene.Then we’ll continue south to Sandhaven.”
Riley nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, the Outer Banks slipping by like frames in an old movie reel.Her mind, however, was far from the tranquility outside.She could feel the undercurrents of this case pulling at her, and she braced herself mentally for whatever lay ahead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A young man who wasn’t a student settled into a worn seat at the back of the Jefferson Bell University classroom, his tall frame folding into the small desk.The room around him buzzed with the chatter of first-year students, their voices a blend of nerves and excitement, but his mind was elsewhere.
His gaze cut through the throng, staring at a young woman three rows ahead, admiring the dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she turned the pages of her textbook.For him, she was the bright spot in the sea of fresh faces.The other students were mere background noise, their questions and comments fading into insignificance.
Leo Dillard was the silent observer, his presence looming unseen in the bright afternoon light.He had perfected the Art of blending in, and his neat appearance and carefully practiced attitude marked him as just another late enrollee rather than the outsider he truly was.Even Professor Winters had been charmed by his request to audit her class, unaware of the deceptive currents beneath his serene surface.
As the lecture began, Leo leaned back, feigning interest in the discussion of American politics.But every word April Paige contributed to the discussion, every slight movement she made, was cataloged in the recesses of his mind.She was the key, the unwitting pawn in a game she didn’t even know she was playing.She was oblivious to the danger that sat mere feet away, a predator cloaked in the guise of scholarly interest.
April’s hand shot up, eager to contribute to the debate, and Leo’s eyes narrowed, fixated on the subtle gestures that accompanied her words.As she commanded the room’s attention, his thoughts churned with plans and possibilities.And despite the warmth of the September afternoon filtering through the classroom windows, a chill ran down Leo’s spine as he watched April engage in the academic discourse.He’d already seen the passion for justice that shone in her hazel eyes—so like her mother’s—when she joined class discussions.
It wasn’t the subject matter that held his attention; it was the way she spoke, the confidence that resonated in her voice—a mirror to her mother’s own assertive tone.Every inflection, every reasoned argument she offered, only served to stoke the fire he felt burning inside.
Leo’s mind was tumultuous, his thoughts constantly crashing back to that day in Riley’s office—the day she had spurned him.He could practically hear the click of her heels against the floor, the tightness of her voice as she rejected him, the cold finality of the door closing on whatever fantasy he had allowed himself to indulge in.It was a visceral cut, a wound to his ego that still festered.
