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But Jilly might have a harder time of it.
As she went back downstairs, Riley found herself thinking about what Gabriela had said.
“The girls need a father figure.”
She looked at the phone. Blaine had made it clear that he would like to get their relationship going again.
But what would he actually expect of her? Her life was packed full with kids and work. Could she really include anyone else in it right now? Would she just disappoint him?
But, she admitted, I do like him.
And he clearly liked her. Surely there had to be room in life for…
She picked up the phone and dialed Blaine’s home number. She was disappointed to get his answering machine, but not surprised. She knew that his work at the restaurant often kept him away from home at nights.
At the sound of the beep, Riley left a message.
“Hi, Blaine. This is Riley. Listen, I’m sorry if I acted a little distant at the game this afternoon. I hope I didn’t seem rude. I just want to say, if your dinner offer still stands, count us in. Give me a call whenever you can to let me know.”
Riley immediately felt better. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a drink. As she sat sipping it on the living room couch, she found herself remembering her conversation with Paula Steen.
Paula had seemed at peace with the fact that her daughter’s killer would never be brought to justice.
“It’s nobody’s fault, and I don’t blame anybody,” Paula had said.
Those words now troubled Riley.
It just seemed so unfair.
Riley finished her drink, took a shower, and went to bed.
She’d barely fallen asleep when the nightmares started.
Riley was just a little girl.
She was walking through some woods at night. She was scared, but she wasn’t sure why.
After all, she wasn’t really lost in the woods.
The woods were close to a highway, and she could see cars going back and forth. The glow from a streetlight and a full moon both lit her way among the trees.
Then her eyes fell on a row of three shallow graves.
The dirt and stones that covered the graves were shifting and heaving.
Women’s hands clawed their way out of the graves.
She could hear their muffled voices say …
“Help us! Please!”
“I’m just a little girl!” Riley answered tearfully.
Riley snapped awake in bed. She was trembling.
It’s just a nightmare, she told herself.
And it wasn’t especially surprising that she’d dream about the Matchbook Killer’s victims the night after she’d talked to Paula Steen.
She took several long, deep breaths. Soon she felt relaxed again, and her consciousness started to fade into sleep.
But then …
She was still just a little girl.
She was in a candy store with Mommy, and Mommy was buying her lots of candy.
A scary man wearing a stocking over his head came toward her.
He pointed a gun at Mommy.
“Give me your money,” he told Mommy.
But Mommy was too scared to move.
The man shot Mommy in the chest, and she fell down right in front of Riley.
Riley started screaming. She whirled around looking for someone to help.
But suddenly, she was in the woods again.
The women’s hands were still groping out of the three graves.
The voices were still calling …
“Help us! Please!”
Then Riley heard another voice beside her. This one sounded familiar …
“You heard them, Riley. They need your help.”
Riley turned and saw Mommy. She was standing right there, her chest bleeding from her bullet wound. Her face was deathly pale.
“I can’t help them, Mommy!” Riley cried. “I’m just a little girl!”
Mommy smiled.
“No, you’re not just a little girl, Riley. You’re all grown up. Turn around and look.”
Riley turned and found herself looking into a full-length mirror.
It was true.
She was a woman now.
And the voices were still calling out …
“Help us! Please!”
Riley’s eyes snapped open again.
She was shaking even more than before, and gasping for breath.
She remembered something that Paula Steen had said to her.
“My daughter’s killer will never be brought to justice.”
Paula had also said …
“It was never your case to begin with.”
Riley felt a new sense of determination.
It was true – the Matchbook Killer hadn’t been her case before.
But she could no longer leave it to the past.
At long last, the Matchbook Killer had to be brought to justice.
It’s my case now, she thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Riley had no more nightmares that night, but even so her sleep was restless. Surprisingly, she felt wide awake and energized when she got up the next morning.
She had work to do that day.
She got dressed and went downstairs. April and Jilly were in the kitchen eating a breakfast that Gabriela had made for them. The girls both looked sad, but not as devastated as they’d been yesterday.
Riley saw that a place had been set at the table for her, so she sat down and said, “Those pancakes look wonderful. Pass them over, please.”
As she ate her breakfast and drank coffee, the girls began to look more cheerful. They didn’t mention Ryan’s absence, instead chatting about other kids at school.
They’re tough, Riley thought.
And they’d both gotten through their share of tough times before now.
She was sure that they’d pull through this crisis about Ryan as well.
Riley finished her coffee and said, “I do have to get to the office.”
She stood up and kissed April on the cheek, and then Jilly.
“Go catch some bad guys, Mom,” Jilly said.
Riley smiled.
“I’ll be sure to do that, dear,” she replied.
As soon as she got to her office, Riley opened up computerized files on the twenty-five-year-old case. As she scanned old newspaper stories, she remembered reading some of them when they had first appeared. She’d been a teenager at the time, and the Matchbook Killer had seemed like the stuff that nightmares were made of.
The murders had happened here in Virginia near Richmond, with just three weeks in between each death.
Riley opened up a map and found Greybull,