"I left it in the Jeep."
"Good thing there was no emergency requiring the sheriff."
"We're a block and a half from the station, Ash; somebody could have stuck their head out one of the doors and yelled for me."
Riley wasn't in the mood for a pissing contest, so she stopped this one before it could really get going by saying to Ash, "The message?"
He looked at her. "Short and fairly enigmatic. Quote: First test, human. Second test, same type as donor. End quote. Hope it means more to you than it does to me."
Riley laced her fingers together around the strap of her shoulder bag, hoping neither man would notice them shaking. Or would simply believe she was just in need of calories if they did notice. But that wasn't why.
The message was all too clear to her. The blood on the clothing she'd awakened wearing the previous afternoon was human. And the blood type was the same as that found in their victim's stomach.
Which meant it was pretty damn likely there was another murder victim out there somewhere.
Someone whose blood Riley had been covered in.
"Is it something Jake should know about?" Ash asked as he drove Riley to the café where they'd planned to have lunch. They had left behind a frustrated sheriff who wasn't at all happy that she wasn't willing to completely decipher the message from Quantico.
"He already knows what's important; his own M.E. told him. That the blood in the victim's stomach is human but doesn't belong to the victim. Which means there's probably another victim we haven't found yet."
"So why did your pal at Quantico have to verify that?"
I can't think. Why can't I think?
She needed fuel, of course, yet again, which was one reason she hadn't protested Ash's arrival at the arson scene. She needed fuel, and once she had that, once her energy level was optimal, then she could begin to make sense of the bits and pieces of information scattered in her mind.
Occult activity: possibly. Arson: definitely. Murder: definitely-probably two of them, dammit. Connection? God knows.
Replying finally to Ash's question, she said, "Just…making sure, that's all."
"Riley, what aren't you telling me?"
She took a chance. "A lot."
Ash didn't seem surprised by that. Or else he had a great poker face. "I see. Professional reasons, or personal ones?"
Taking another chance, she answered honestly. Sort of.
"Six of one, half a dozen of the other. I'm sorry, Ash. It's just…I'm used to working alone. And I'm not used to being personally involved with someone while I'm working, I told you that." And I can't read you at all, can't tell what you're thinking or feeling, but I look at you and feel…uneasy. Uneasy and I don't know why.
"And I'm the DA of Hazard County."
"That too. I can't-I can't just tell you everything I know, or think I know or suspect, not without evidence to back it up. Without evidence, it's just speculation, useless speculation. And most of it's probably dead ends anyway, because most investigations are full of them. That's one reason I haven't told Jake much of what I'm thinking either."
"Because he'd grab what might look like a lead and run with it. Focus all his suspicions on one person or one area to the exclusion of all else. Rush to judgment."
Riley was glad Ash seemed to understand that. She nodded. "He's the type, or at least I think he is. Wants to do something ASAP, frustrated because he can't. He's more than ready for concrete answers. And that would be fine-if I was right. But I'm not sure of anything yet. Until I am sure, or at least reasonably sure, I'd rather keep most of the speculation to myself."
After a moment, Ash said in a deliberate tone, "The danger in that is your isolation, Riley. Keep everything to yourself, and if the murderer even suspects you might know something, he could also believe that taking you out would eliminate or at least lessen the threat."
"I know," she said.
"You're willing to risk that?"
"I usually do." Usually-but not always. Because Bishop tended to know, even if she hadn't told him, what was going on in her investigations. In her life. Hell, in her mind. Other team members often knew as well because, hey, hard to keep most things secret among a group of psychics.
But not this time. With Bishop and the other members of the unit obviously preoccupied with their own demanding cases and scattered across the country to boot, the sense of unity she had felt since joining the SCU was missing.
Or maybe that was just her, just the disconnect of her own dulled or missing senses. Either way, this time the inherently risky nature of her job felt more dangerous than ever.
This time she felt alone.
Really alone.
"I don't know that I'm willing to risk it," Ash said in a thoughtful tone. Then, almost immediately, added, "As a matter of fact, I'm sure. I'm not willing to risk you, Riley."
"Ash-"
"Yes, I know your job is dangerous no matter what the circumstances. Situation normal, for you. I also know you're highly trained by the army and by the FBI, which means you can more than take care of yourself in just about any situation I could name. Including, undoubtedly, this one. And I know you've done just fine without me for thirty-odd years."
He pulled the Hummer into a parking space outside a busy café, turned off the engine, and looked at her steadily. "But I am asking you, in this investigation, in this place and time, just this once, to break a few of your rules and talk to me about what's going on."
"It's never just once," she murmured. "Break a rule, and before you know it life is chaos. You're running with scissors, coloring outside the lines, putting your elbows on the table. Anarchy."
"Quit stalling. Look, I can separate personal confidences from my professional responsibilities."
"I'm not sure I can," she admitted.
"I'm sure. Trust me, Riley."
Hating the gambit, Riley nevertheless fell back on a handy excuse and tried to keep it light. "It's not fair to ask anything of me when I'm starving and can't think straight. You don't want to win that way, do you?"
"I," Ash said, "am willing to win any way I can. Haven't you figured that out yet?"
He didn't press her for a response just then, which was good since Riley didn't really have one. Instead, he got out of the vehicle, and as she followed suit Riley was aware of the unsettling realization that she was going to have to decide whether to trust Ash completely-and decide without the aid of the extra senses she had counted on her entire life.
Blind trust.
Something she wasn't at all sure she was capable of.
Chapter 11
Riley decided to approach the Pearson house casually, from the beach. Having made that decision, she returned to her own house after the lunch with Ash, exchanged her shoulder bag for a fanny pack just large enough to hold her weapon, I.D., a couple of PowerBars, and house keys, found a pair of sunglasses behind which she could at least partially hide a multitude of uncertainties, and went out for a seemingly casual stroll.
"Casual" out on the beach meant carrying her gun out of sight. Or at least that was what she told herself.
Judgment call. Sometimes I wear the weapon on my hip and sometimes I hide it away. That makes sense. Right?
Her wavering was both uncharacteristic and unprofessional-and scary. Riley pushed it away, telling herself one more time that things would become clearer.
Eventually.
Other people were hitting the beach as well, since it was after two and therefore considered a safer time of day for the sun worshippers. A number of people nodded and smiled as Riley passed, but nobody called out to her-which was a relief, since the faces were those of strangers.
She was, in any case, more intent on scanning the oceanfront houses as she passed; no one had been specific as to the actual location of the Pearson house, other than to say it was "up the beach from your place."