Once Gone (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1)

Chapter 18

As she drove to the address the clinic receptionist had given her, Riley felt her usual dread at having to interview victims' families or spouses. She somehow sensed that this time was going to be even worse than usual. But the abduction was fresh.

"Maybe this time, we'll find her before he kills her," she said.

"If the evidence team can get a clue on this guy," Bill replied.

"Somehow, I doubt that he's going to turn up in any database." The image that Riley was forming in her mind wasn't of a habitual offender. This thing was deeply personal to the killer in some way that she hadn't been able to identify. She would figure it out, she was sure. But she needed to figure it out fast enough to stop the terror and agony that Cindy was going through right now. No one else should have to endure the pain of that knife ... or of that darkness ... of that searing flame ...

"Riley," Bill said sharply, "that's it right there."

Riley jerked back to the present. She pulled the car over to the curb and looked around at the neighborhood. It was a little rundown but all the more warm and inviting because of that. It was the sort of low-rent area where young people without a lot of money could pursue their dreams.

Of course, Riley knew that the neighborhood wouldn't stay this way. Gentrification was undoubtedly scheduled to kick in any day now. But maybe that would be good for an art gallery. If the victim got back home alive.

Riley and Bill got out of the car and approached the little storefront gallery. A handsome metal sculpture was displayed in the front window behind a sign that announced "CLOSED."

The couple's apartment was upstairs. Riley rang the doorbell, and she and Bill waited for a few moments. She wondered who was going to come to the door.

When the door opened, she was relived to be greeted by the compassionate face of FBI victim specialist Beverly Chaddick. Riley had worked with Beverly before. The specialist had been in this job for at least twenty years, and she had a wonderful way dealing with distraught victims and family members.

"We need to ask Mr. MacKinnon some questions," Riley said. "I hope he's up for it."

"Yes," Beverly said. "But go easy on him."

Beverly led Bill and Riley upstairs to the little apartment. It immediately struck Riley as heartbreakingly cheerful, decorated with a marvelous clutter of paintings and sculptures. The people who lived here loved to celebrate life and all of its possibilities. Was all that over now? Her heart ached for the young couple.

Nathaniel MacKinnon, a man in his late twenties, was sitting in the combined living and dining room. His lankiness made him look all the more broken.

Beverly announced in a gentle voice, "Nathaniel, Agents Paige and Jeffreys are here."

The young man looked at Bill and Riley expectantly. His voice croaked with desperation.

"Have you found Cindy? Is she okay? Is she alive?"

Riley realized that she could say nothing helpful. She was all the more grateful that Beverly was here, and that she'd already established a rapport with the distraught husband.

Beverly sat down next to Nathaniel MacKinnon.

"Nobody knows anything yet, Nathaniel," she said. "They're here to help."

Bill and Riley sat down nearby.

Riley asked, "Mr. MacKinnon, has your wife said anything recently about feeling fearful or threatened?"