"Sorry, but so far nada. None of the group was anywhere in the area when the arson took place, so we can't connect any of them to those crimes. So far, all the background checks are coming up clean, just like the preliminary ones did. A couple of watch groups that keep an eye on occult activities have these people on their lists, but nothing violent has ever been reported, much less proved."
Still scowling, Jake said, "What about the background check on Tate? Any reason somebody'd want to kill him?"
"Nothing's come up so far."
"Nothing nothing, or just nothing you consider motive enough?"
Leah blinked. "Sheriff, as far as we've been able to determine, Wesley Tate was respected in the business community of Charleston and well-liked. He didn't date much, there was no special woman in his life, and the women he had seen in the last year or so were available and without obvious jealous boyfriends, past or present. Everybody liked the guy. Everybody we've talked to seems genuinely shocked he's been killed-especially like that."
"No interest in the occult-despite his ex-wife's lifestyle?"
"He was a Baptist. A deacon of his church, and in the family pew every Sunday."
"Including the years they were married?"
"Yes. According to friends and family, he just said she ‘wasn't religious' whenever anyone asked. Didn't seem to be a big deal to him, as far as anybody could tell."
"And his will?"
"Bequests to friends and family, most to charity."
"You're kidding."
"No. A half-dozen charities he gave to while he was alive pretty much split his estate now. And, before you ask, his ex-wife was not mentioned. At all. So it looks like Jenny Cole was wrong in believing he was still hoping for a reconciliation."
"Then why'd he invite them here? Come to think of it, why here? He didn't live in Castle, on Opal Island. Not a single realtor has him on the books as a previous tenant, right?"
"Right."
"So why here? Why invite them to a place he'd never been to himself?"
"He may have come here before as part of a group," Leah pointed out. "Just never had a previous rental in his name, is all."
Jake grunted. "Or maybe he used his version of your famous pin-in-a-map way of deciding his future."
Leah cleared her throat. "You weren't supposed to hear about that."
"I hear everything. What about Tate's phone records?"
"They back up what Steve Blanton told us. Tate called the house where the group was living outside Columbia."
"Did he call anybody here in Castle? On the island?"
"Not as far as we've been able to determine."
Jake swore, not exactly under his breath.
"Sorry, Sheriff, but it's a dead end. Pardon the pun."
He turned without another word and stalked back toward his office.
Not exactly beneath her own breath, Leah muttered, "Thanks so much, Deputy Wells, nice job. I'm sure talking to all those shocked people wasn't much fun but, hey, them's the breaks."
"I heard that!"
She winced and reached hastily for her phone, rolling her eyes when one of the other deputies in the bullpen grinned at her.
Riley drew her hand away from Ash's, repeating slowly, "You knew him."
"No. And yes."
She waited.
Ash glanced at Gordon, then returned his intent gaze to Riley's face. "I told you I left the Atlanta DA's office because I got tired of the politics."
A memory, wispy and incomplete, flitted through her mind, but Riley made no effort to catch it. She simply waited.
"That was only part of the truth. I also left because I lost a case I should have won. Before he started his multistate crime spree, John Henry Price was indicted for one count of murder in Atlanta. He was guilty. I couldn't convince a jury."
This time, the memory surfaced clearly in Riley's mind. "I never saw your name. In the case file. Just the notation that Price was only caught once, in Atlanta, more than five years ago. That he stood trial and was acquitted."
His mouth twisting, Ash said, "Circumstantial evidence, not so unusual in a murder trial. But it was enough, I thought. It needed to be. Because I looked that man in the eye…and it was like looking into hell itself."
"I know," Riley said. "I tracked him for months. I stood over the hacked-up bodies of his victims. I even got inside his head. Or-he got inside mine. Whichever. By the time I caught up to him, I'm not sure I would have taken him alive even if I'd had the chance."
Ash drew a breath and let it out slowly. "I never saw your name either. Just the newspaper reports that he'd been shot and killed by a federal agent. After killing all those men. Men he never would have killed if I'd done my job."
"It wasn't your fault. He was smart. And he was careful."
"And a good prosecutor wouldn't have let him get away." Ash shrugged. "That's knowledge I live with every day."
After a long moment, Riley reached out and twined her fingers with his once again.
Gordon, who had watched and listened without a word, spoke up then to say slowly, "Am I the only one at this table who doesn't really believe in coincidence?"
Riley shook her head.
"Me either," Ash said. "But I don't see the point. I mean, if we're saying this has something to do with Price."
"He's dead," Riley said. "They never recovered the body, but he's dead." But hunting him is one of the strongest memories in my mind. I keep reliving that time, like flashbacks. There must be a reason for that. There must be.
Gordon rubbed his jaw briefly, then said, "You said he got in your head or you got in his. That couldn't still be, right?"
"No. I'd know if that were the case. The unit's had to deal with cases where disembodied energy-a soul, if you like-was able to inhabit and even control another individual."
"Possession?" Ash shook his head. "I didn't think that was possible."
"Stick with me and I'll take you to all the impossible places." Riley sighed. "Possession may be real enough, but I don't see it in this case. Tracking him like I did, whether he was in my head or I was in his, I got to know him very, very well. Price had a soul so black I don't see how it could…hide…inside another person. Not without giving himself away."
"The murders in Charleston?" Gordon wondered.
"A copycat, according to Bishop."
"And he'd know?"
"He'd know."
"Okay. So maybe you and Ash both having a connection to Price doesn't mean a thing."
"Yeah. And you also believe in the Easter bunny."
"Stranger things have happened," Gordon reminded her. "We've both seen 'em. You say Price is dead and isn't walking around wearing somebody else's body, and that's good enough for me."
"I wish," Riley said, "it was good enough for me."
Chapter 20
2½ Years Previously
Got you," Riley whispered, her eyes fixed on her quarry as he walked briskly along the buckled sidewalk. To call the area shabby would have been a considerable understatement; these dark streets close to the river had pretty much been abandoned long before, when a spring flood had turned this port into no more than an inlet far from the flow of traffic.
It was nearly dawn, the full moon low and bright in the sky, and Riley had been shadowing Price all night. She had expected him to make a move long before now, but although he had been in and out of several different bars, he had left each one alone. And currently he was headed for what used to be a major dock but was now mostly a rickety wreck with a few small boats tied alongside it.
Riley was conscious of a prickle of unease, but she didn't allow it to cause her to hesitate. She had her weapon in hand and was dressed for tracking tonight in jeans and track shoes, and most importantly, she had John Henry Price in sight.
No way was she backing off just because of some nameless anxiety.
Except…after more than a week of glimpses, why had he been so visible tonight? Hell, why had he let himself be seen at all?