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found themselves back at the police station after a fruitless day, Jake told Tallhamer’s deputy to keep a close eye on Harvey Cardin, especially to make sure he didn’t try to leave town.

      “One more stop,” he told Tallhamer, “and then I’ll give up for the day.”

      The sheriff drove Jake out to the first murder scene.

      Dusk was falling by the time they got there. The fence post where Alice Gibson’s body had been found dangling was marked by an X that Sheriff Tallhamer’s deputy had painted on it. Like the spot where Alice Gibson’s body had been found, the fence bordered on a gently rolling pasture.

      Jake suppressed a sigh as he imagined the hideous bundle hanging there …

      This’d be nice place to visit under different circumstances.

      He figured it must have taken a remarkably sick man to leave such a grisly object in such a lovely location.

      Was Phil Cardin such a man?

      Might his brother be such a man?

      Jake crouched down by the fence post and breathed long and slowly, hoping to catch some feeling about what had happened here. Jake was known for making intuitive leaps at murder scenes, oftentimes getting an uncanny sense of the mind of a criminal. Jake knew of nobody else who could do that—except for young Riley Sweeney, and her instincts were still erratic and undisciplined.

      This morning at the other crime scene, Jake hadn’t been able even try to make such a connection—not with all the hubbub going on around him and the arrival of a TV news helicopter.

      Can I do it now? he wondered.

      Jake closed his eyes and focused, trying to get some sort of gut feeling.

      Nothing came.

      When he opened his eyes, he saw that three black and white Black Angus cows had wandered over and were eyeing him curiously. He wondered—had they seen what had gone on that night? If so, had the horror of what they’d witnessed had any impact on them?

      “If only you could talk,” Jake said to the cows under his breath.

      He rose to his feet, feeling thoroughly discouraged.

      It was time to head back over to Dighton and check in with his forensics team. He’d go over the day’s notes and get some sleep in the town’s only motel, then get a fresh start early tomorrow. Jake had left some unfinished business in Dighton, including a serious interview with Hope Nelson’s husband, the mayor. Mason Nelson had been too incapacitated with shock for Jake to talk to him when they’d met at the other murder scene.

      As for trying to track down Harvey Cardin’s whereabouts, Jake knew that it wasn’t a job for either the local cops or the forensics crew he’d brought along. He’d have to call for technical support from Quantico.

      He said to Sheriff Tallhamer, “Take me back to my car, I’m leaving.”

      But before they could get into the sheriff’s car, Jake saw a van approaching with a TV station’s logo on it. The van pulled to a stop nearby, and a crew poured out with lights, camera, and a microphone.

      Jake let out a groan of despair.

      There was no way of getting away from the media this time.

      CHAPTER NINE

      Riley was disappointed when she went to the computer room after a day of tours, classes, and her first dinner in the Academy cafeteria. There was still no email from Ryan. For the moment she ignored the others in her box.

      Last night she had emailed Ryan to let him know that she’d arrived at Quantico and was settling in. She hadn’t heard anything from him in reply. She asked herself—should she send him another note, telling him about her day? Or should she give him a phone call?

      Riley sighed deeply as she tried to come to terms with the truth …

      He’s still angry.

      She wondered if maybe she’d made a mistake by catching the first train she could to Quantico. Maybe she should have returned home before she’d left to talk things out with him, find out where things stood between them. She couldn’t imagine how they were ever going to do that as long as they were separated like this.

      But she couldn’t help thinking …

      If I’d gone back home yesterday, I’d probably still be there.

      She decided it was best not to try to do anything about it now. Maybe tomorrow morning she’d send Ryan another note.

      One other email in the box was junk, which she deleted. But when she opened the remaining message, Riley was unsettled and alarmed.

      “Brant Hayman,” she whispered, with a shudder.

      Hayman was the professor who had killed Riley’s two college friends in Lanton. He had tried to kill Riley.

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