Page 9 of Once Marked
Beeler shrugged, his weathered face creasing into a thoughtful frown.“A few indentations that could be construed as such, but they’re inconclusive at best.The soft sand doesn’t hold much information.”
“So she was found by an early morning jogger,” Riley mused.“What about beach patrols?”
“They don’t run as often as during high tourist season.One came along here around midnight, but nothing had happened by then.The earlier victim was found by a local who went out fishing at dawn a couple of days ago, near Scudmore farther south on the Outer Banks.”
With a sigh, Riley said, “Okay, let’s see the scene inside the tent.”
Sheriff Beeler pushed a tent flap open, and they stepped inside.“At least the wind was cooperative,” he said.“Kept the scene as undisturbed as possible.”
The air was still, the smell of the sea battling with the sterility of forensic work that had been carried out here.The empty folding lounge chair sat in its place, and a few forensic tags marked where the body had been positioned and a few indentations that might have been footprints.
“So she was dead by the time she was placed in that chair,” Ann Marie commented, “but not dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in.”
“That’s right,” Beeler agreed.“So she would have been put here within a couple hours of death.Not much longer than that, anyhow.As for the beach chair itself—well, as you can see, it’s old and well-used.So was the other one where Julie Sternan’s body was found, and the two of them didn’t match.”
Riley could see the problem.
God knows where these beach chairs came from,she thought.
They’d been purchased long ago, and tracing their origins would be impossible.As she stood before the empty chair, its canvas slack in the absence of its occupant, she pulled out her cell phone and studied the crime scene photos.In her mind, she could see the victim superimposed on the empty chair.It was as though Billie Shearer lay there in her pink one-piece swimsuit, at first glance looking perfectly natural.
There wasn’t a question in her mind that they were dealing with someone meticulous, someone who treated murder like a perverse form of art.
She stepped closer to the beach lounger, her mind already sifting through the information in front of her.The killer had chosen this location purposefully—a place of beauty transformed into a stage, a setting for a macabre display.What message were they trying to send?What perverse satisfaction did they derive from leaving their victim in such a public yet isolated space?
Ann Marie kept asking questions, and Beeler kept trying without much success to answer them.Meanwhile, Riley’s thoughts drifted elsewhere.Her intuition began to stir, that uncanny ability to slip beneath the skin of those who do harm.
Eyes closed, Riley let the sound of the waves guide her deeper into her own psyche, seeking the recesses where she seemed to be connected with the minds of those who perpetrated such acts.What drove a person to stage their violence like a play, each act calculated to leave an impression?What twisted satisfaction did they derive from this display?
Drifting within that mental space, Riley’s other senses dulled, she focused on the echoes of intent left behind, piecing together fragments of what she had seen whether consciously noticed or not, what she could draw on from having worked so many cases.She was searching for the ‘why’ behind the ‘what’ that had happened here.
The image before her inner eye was elusive, like the last fading remnants of a dream upon waking.A hazy picture lined with the sepia tones of nostalgia.It wasn’t merely death laid out before her but a sense of guilt—of passion—and of something incomplete.This killer wasn’t finished, and there seemed to be no ending in sight.
CHAPTER FOUR
As Riley opened her eyes, the world rushed back in, the stark reality of the tent grounding her once more.She exhaled slowly, the vestiges of a killer’s presence lingering like smoke in her mind.She noticed Ann Marie’s gaze fixed upon her with a mix of curiosity and concern.
The younger agent had maneuvered her position so that she was facing Riley and the Sheriff looking away.Ann Marie had shrewdly distracted Sheriff Beeler’s attention when Riley had drifted away into her reverie, and Riley was grateful for that.
But Ann Marie’s eyes were wide, unblinking, and Riley knew that silent questions were forming behind them.They had never spoken about the way Riley’s intuition worked, the gift that allowed her to feel the echoes of a murderer’s intent.Riley knew that Ann Marie had some idea about all this.She also knew perfectly well that her abilities had an exaggerated reputation throughout the BAU, and Ann Marie had caught wind of such talk.
Riley had considered opening up with Ann Marie about all this, letting her young partner in on the unique way she connected with their cases.She really needed to do that sooner rather than later.But how could she articulate something so intangible?Her insights were born of whispers in her mind, not the concrete evidence that one could file in a report.
Although her sources were not supernatural, her ability to put barely perceived hints together with extensive experience and a profiler’s skills often took the form of pictures in her mind—and that was not an easy process to account for.
“How about you, Agent Paige?”Ann Marie asked, careful not to call her by her first name in front of a local law enforcement official.“Any theories?”
“This must be something personal,” Riley replied.“Here and in the photographs of the other scene, it looks like someone is recreating...repurposing the past.”
“Like a signature?”Ann Marie asked, eager to understand.
“More intimate.It’s as if...”Riley paused, searching for the right words, “...as if the killer is dressing up the present in the past’s clothing.”
The Sheriff looked puzzled, so Riley added, “Of course this is all guesswork, just first impressions.”
With a deep breath, she turned away from the beach chair and the images it conjured.There was a lot of ordinary investigative work to be done, and she wanted to get on with that.As they prepared to leave, the crime scene’s stark reality juxtaposed against the natural beauty of the beach served as a poignant reminder of the fragility of life.
“We’d better start making our rounds,” Sheriff Beeler said.“I guess you want to talk to the husband of the deceased and with the woman who found the body.”
