Page 21 of Once Marked (Riley Paige #19)

Sheriff Beeler’s cruiser sped through the Outer Banks roads like a bullet, red-blue lights flashing urgently and sirens wailing. As Riley braced her body against the sharp turns that threw her against the seat belt, her mind was sifting through a tangle of questions.

Had the new missing woman, Rachel Brennan, been taken by the killer they had been working to track? If so, was there a chance that the newest missing woman was still alive?

Riley calculated that the first two victims hadn’t been killed right away.

Hours had passed between their abduction and the discovery of their bodies on the beach.

And because the bodies could only have been posed as they were before rigor mortis set in, it seemed likely that they were actually drowned in fresh water a short time before they were posed in the beach chairs.

It followed that their abductor had held the victims prisoner somewhere, trapped but alive until close to the time each body would be placed in a beach chair, making them easier to position as though simply reclining, enjoying the sun even though it hadn’t yet risen.

The sheriff’s cruiser came to an unceremonious halt in front of the Mitchell Realtors office, and Riley leaped out before the vehicle had fully stilled.

The air was thick with the salty tang of the ocean, and she could see that the quaint town of Darnley was a natural backdrop for serene coastal living.

With Ann Marie on her heels, Riley hurried up the walkway and ascended the steps two at a time. The door swung open, and the cheerful jangle of the bell clashed with their grim purpose. Inside, Grace Mitchell’s eyes met theirs, wide with anxiety.

Riley’s memory summoned the image of Grace consoling Linda Morris and Lucy North earlier that day, her demeanor then unflappable and yet full of worry and compassionate concern.

This same woman now seemed brittle, like fine china on the verge of shattering.

The lines on her face, normally smoothed by careful grooming and makeup, were now ridged with worry.

Riley remembered her earlier words, “I can’t help but feel... well, responsible.”

She must feel even more so now, Riley thought.

Sheriff Beeler came through the door and began questioning. “Ms. Mitchell,” he said solemnly, “We understand your employee, Rachel Brennan, is missing.”

Grace’s confirmation came with a visible tremble, her voice quivering as if each word was difficult. “Yes,” she whispered, her lips barely moving, “I’m terrified for her.”

“Rachel is more than just an employee to me,” Grace’s voice wavered as she spoke. “She’s a vital part of my life. She’s a confidante, a protégé, a friend... I trust her, rely on her more than anyone else. She’s never let me down.”

“Did she seem at all … well, anxious today? Worried?” Riley asked.

Grace’s eyes flitted away for a brief instant before looking back to Riley. “No,” she murmured. “She seemed just fine this morning. Then we went our separate ways for the day until …”

Grace’s voice faded.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Riley’s voice was soft.

Grace’s response came after a moment, haltingly, as if each word were pulled from a well of reluctance.

“Rachel and I... we were supposed to meet for drinks and a late afternoon snack at our favorite spot, the Thirsty Gull.” Her hands tightened around one another, knuckles whitening.

“It’s something we do often, you know? A kind of daily ritual.

A chance to unwind, discuss business in a more relaxed setting. ”

As Grace continued, her voice faltered, the strain evident.

“But Rachel didn’t show,” she said, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the office.

“I warned her, you know. After those two murders... I told her to be careful. But I should have done more. I should have...” Her voice trailed off.

Sheriff Beeler calmly suggested an alternative explanation. “This could simply be a mix-up in plans, or perhaps Rachel changed her mind about meeting up.”

Grace nodded slowly as she considered his words. “That’s what I thought at first,” she admitted. “I assumed something had come up unexpectedly and that she’d contact me later on. I just had my drink and a bite to eat, did a little window shopping and finally came on back to the office.”

She looked away for a moment, then continued. “But more and more time passed with no word from Rachel. I couldn’t reach her by phone and …” She raised tear-filled eyes to meet Riley’s gaze. “That’s when I knew something was wrong and called the police.”

“Ms. Mitchell,” Riley leaned forward, wanting to reassure Grace while also emphasizing the urgency of their mission. “You mustn’t blame yourself for this situation. The best thing you can do right now is help us find Rachel.”

Grace straightened in her chair. “Of course,” she replied, determination replacing some of the fear in her eyes. “Of course I’ll help however I can.”

Riley thought for a moment. “Do you have a photo of Rachel?” she asked.

“Yes, she’s in a number of these casual shots.” Grace got up and moved to a nearby shelf lined with framed photos. She picked one up carefully and handed it over to Riley with trembling hands.

“This is Rachel,” Grace said, pointing to one woman in particular within a group photo taken in front of a ‘For Rent’ sign - all smiling faces under sunny skies.

Riley studied the photo, taking in the young woman’s high cheekbones and light brown hair. In the photo, the woman’s hair was long, cascading down past her shoulders. Riley couldn’t help but wonder if it was still the same, or whether those long tresses had already been cut short.

She shared a significant look with Ann Marie before her junior partner spoke up. “With a haircut…” Ann Marie mused aloud, trailing off as she mentally compared the woman in the photo to their previous victims.

Grace frowned at Ann Marie’s words, confusion clouding her features. “What do you mean?” she asked, her gaze darting between the two agents.

Instead of answering that question, Ann Marie raised her notebook like a shield.

“Can you tell us the last place you know Rachel to have been before her disappearance?” Ann Marie asked. “Did she mention anything specific about her plans for the day? Any appointments or properties she intended to visit?”

“Rachel mentioned she was checking on one of our properties,” Grace said.

“We had housekeepers prepare it for a showing tomorrow. She said she was going there this afternoon for a walk-through. She wanted to ensure everything was perfect—just as she always did. That’s the last place I know of where I’m sure she went today. ”

“Do you have the address of this property?” Riley asked. “We’d like to check it out ourselves.”

Grace nodded, her movements suddenly brisk and purposeful.

She scribbled on a yellow Post-it note with a hand that shook just a little.

Handing it to Riley along with a brass key that glinted in the light, she said, “It’s a beachfront house with a wraparound deck.

The number is clearly posted. You can’t miss it. ”

Riley pocketed the key, feeling its cool metal against her palm, a tangible link to the missing woman.

“Let’s get going then,” Beeler ordered, as he headed for the door.

As Riley and Ann Marie turned to leave, Grace stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I wish I could come with you. I have an appointment to show another property, but I suppose I can cancel—”

“Ms. Mitchell, I think it’s best if you keep that appointment,” Riley told her. “Try to maintain as much normalcy in your life as possible. It’s important for your well-being.”

Grace’s eyes searched Riley’s, brimming with an uncertainty that made her look vulnerable, a stark departure from the composed realtor she had been hours before.

Grace hesitated, the internal conflict clear on her face, then slowly her posture yielded to resignation.

She nodded, the faintest tremor in her voice as she replied, “You’re right, of course.

Thank you, Agent Paige. Please, find her. ”

Riley gave a single nod, a silent promise before she, Ann Marie, and Sheriff Beeler moved swiftly out the door,

As the trio made their way to Sheriff Beeler’s cruiser, the sky above Darnley was beginning to darken, almost as if mirroring their concerns. They piled in swiftly, the sheriff’s hand steady on the wheel as they pulled away, the flashing lights casting a blue pallor over the quiet streets.

The cruiser soon slowed to a halt before the handsome beachfront house surrounded by a wooden deck, with the grandeur of the ocean stretching beyond it. Riley led the way up the stairs and unlocked the front door.

As they entered, Sheriff Beeler’s hand rested on his gun belt—a subtle gesture, but it spoke volumes of his readiness to confront whatever they might find.

There seemed to be a stillness in the air over the beachfront property as Riley moved through the rooms, her senses on high alert.

The ocean breeze that slipped through open windows carried the salty tang of the sea and the undercurrent of danger.

It didn’t take long to see that something had gone wrong here.

A side table near the doors on the ocean side leaned precariously, as if recoiling from an unseen force, and the vase that once adorned it lay shattered, its floral occupants strewn about like colorful casualties.

Water bloomed across the floorboards, dark and ominous.

“There was a struggle,” Ann Marie murmured. She turned on a light so they could see things more clearly.

“Not much of a fight though,” Beeler observed. “It ended quickly. Just looks like someone might have been dragged through here. Maybe a dead body.”

“Or just unconscious,” Ann Marie said, looking into a bathroom. “At least there’s no sign that anyone might have been drowned in there. That bathroom is spotless.”

“You’re right,” Riley said. “There’s no sign that whoever took her spent much time here. They must have had a safer place in mind.”

“Whoever did this knew what they were doing. Quick, efficient,” Sheriff Beeler muttered, surveying the disarray with an experienced eye.

Riley nodded silently, piecing together the scene before her.

The isolation of the house lent itself to secrecy, while its location close to a road offered a swift escape route—the perfect spot for a calculated ambush.

She could almost hear the silent footsteps of the perpetrator, feel the rush of adrenaline at the prospect of the hunt.

It was a pattern she’d come to recognize, one that now had the life of Rachel Brennan hanging in the balance.

As Riley’s gaze lingered on the displacement of the furniture, her mind raced, fitting the scattered pieces of this grim puzzle into place. The methodical nature of the crime suggested someone who reveled in control, who took perverse pleasure in the fear they sowed.

Her training at the BAU and her years in the field had taught her to think like these predators, to anticipate their moves.

Her own special skills had taught her to experience their thoughts and actions more intimately.

But all she was getting here now was a vague sense of brief activity, a flash of panic, nothing more.

The three of them moved deeper into the house and made a quick check of the upstairs bedrooms and baths, the air thick with unanswered questions.

“This place is immaculate,” Ann Marie observed. “Except for that disturbed area, it could be ready for someone to move in.”

“Well, it’s going to be closed off now,” Beeler declared. “We’ll want a forensics team to go over everything more carefully just in case. No tourists need to be trampling around here.”

He stepped aside and made a phone call, summoning officers with yellow tape to seal off the house from any prospective vacationers or curious townspeople.

Riley stood aside, hoping for a moment of quiet that might give her a glimpse into what had taken place here earlier, when the sudden vibration of her phone jolted her back to the present.

When she saw the caller ID, a current of anticipation charged through her veins. With a steady hand, she silenced the device’s insistent buzzing and gestured to Beeler and Ann Marie for quiet.

Her finger hovered over the answer button, hoping she might get some answers in this phone call from ‘Harry Winters.’