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“You think he’s brought her here?”Gingham’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, to a particular gravesite.His mother’s, Martha Lancaster.”
The glow from Officer Burgher’s tablet cast an eerie light on his earnest face as he enlarged a map of Kirkwood Cemetery.He tapped a spot with authority, “Martha Lancaster’s grave is right here.”
Riley’s eyes traced the single entry road and its offshoots that carved through the cemetery.Each branch was a decision point, a potential ambush site, or a place to lose a trail.There would be no simple chase; it was a tactical puzzle where the stakes were human life.
“Only one road in or out,” she murmured.
“Then we can just drive in and grab him at the grave,” Putnam suggested, his voice carrying a clinical detachment that grated on Riley’s nerves.His readiness to confront chaos head-on was typical, though not always practical.
“Timothy may not intend to kill her immediately,” Riley countered, her gaze never leaving the map.“It was that simple, she’d have been found dead closer to home.This could turn into a hostage situation.”
Putnam’s skepticism was clear, his body tensed as if preparing to leap into action at any moment.
But Riley knew better than to rush in blindly.Lives were not chess pieces, and Timothy Lancaster was no predictable opponent.She’d followed many twisted corridors within the thoughts of killers.It wasn’t just about finding them; it was about outmaneuvering them.
“How can we be so sure of that?”Putnam asked, his sharp eyes searching her face for doubt.For a moment he seemed about to challenge her authority, but then seemed to remember that Meredith had specifically told him to listen to Paige.
“We can’t be sure,” Riley replied.“But if I am right, we can’t take any chances.”
She turned back to the map of Kirkwood Cemetery on Burgher’s tablet.“We go in quietly from different directions, jumping fences if necessary,” she said, tapping three separate points along the edges.“Ann Marie, you go in here from the west.Putnam, you’re on the east.I’ll come through from the south.”
Putnam frowned, his sharp features etched with doubt.
“Stealth gives us the advantage,” Riley continued.
“Fine,” Putnam conceded after a tense pause, his tone clipped.
“Burgher, Gingham, you two hold the fort here,” Riley instructed, pointing to the solitary road snaking into the cemetery.“Nobody gets in or out without going past you.Check anyone thoroughly.Check cars, trunks included.Understood?”
The two officers nodded, their expressions serious as they glanced at each other before turning back to Riley.They were the final line of defense, the barrier between the suspect and any hope of escape.
“Got it, Agent Paige,” Burgher confirmed.
Putnam still appeared less than thrilled, his posture rigid as he reluctantly agreed to the plan.“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered.
With a last look at the map, Riley felt the pull of the chase, the need to end this before another life was shattered.
“Time to move,” she said, her voice low but clear.Ann Marie gave a brief nod, her eyes reflecting the same resolve that Riley felt.Putnam, followed suit grudgingly, his steps decisive as he headed off in his assigned direction.
The three FBI agents dispersed, each moving quietly through the night, planning to converge upon a common goal.Behind them, the officers stood vigilant.
*
Gwen’s senses flickered back more fully as the cold grip of consciousness took hold.She realized that she wasn’t in the trunk of a car.She was out in the open on her knees, her balance unsteady.Her wrists were still bound.
A sharp yank on her hair forced her head back; moonlight washed over a weathered gravestone right in front of her.
The cemetery?She wondered, struggling to focus.
“Look at it,” a man’s voice snarled, his breath hot on her ear.“Say hello to my mother.”
She managed to read the name in silver relief: ‘Martha Lancaster’.
Gwen’s thoughts struggled with the realization of where she was—the Kirkwood Cemetery.But why?
“Apologize to her,” the voice demanded, his tone low and dangerous.“She’s listening.”