Page 32 of Once Vanished
Riley and Bill exchanged a glance.Leo had used the same alias when he abducted Stanley Pope the previous day.The connection sent a chill through Riley’s exhausted body.
“Did Abel tell you anything else?”she pressed.“Did he mention a young girl?A teenage girl?”
“No ma’am, no girls,” Smitty said, shaking his head vigorously.“But he did leave me with a message.Said I was supposed to tell an FBI agent named ‘Riley something’ if she ever came looking.”He paused, his eyes widening.“That’s you, ain’t it?”
Riley nodded, her mouth suddenly dry.“What was the message?”
“He said, ‘Seek and you shall find.’”Smitty recited, as if he’d been practicing.“That’s it.But I think he meant you should look for something in this house.He seemed real particular about that.”
Hope and dread collided in Riley’s chest.If Leo had left something here for her to find, it could be a clue to Jilly’s whereabouts.Or it could be something unspeakable—a message written in blood, a piece of clothing, a lock of hair.
“Bill,” she said quietly.“We need to search this place.All of it.”
He nodded, already understanding.“I’ll take the top floor, you take this one.Then we’ll do the main floor together.”
“Smitty,” Riley said, turning back to the man who was now perched nervously on the edge of the bare mattress.“I need you to stay right here while we search.Don’t leave.We’ll have more questions for you.”
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed readily.“I ain’t going nowhere.”
Riley moved methodically through the second floor, checking every room, every closet, every possible hiding place.As she opened each door, she braced herself for what might lie behind it.But she found nothing—no sign of Jilly, no message from Leo, not even evidence that he’d been here beyond Smitty’s testimony.
When she and Bill joined up on the ground floor, his grim expression told her he’d had no better luck.
“Nothing upstairs,” he confirmed.“If she was here, she’s not here now.”
“Let’s finish this,” Riley said, gesturing to the rooms on the main floor.
They moved together through the dusty sitting room, pulling sheets off furniture, looking under tables, tapping on walls for hidden compartments.The dining room yielded nothing.A small study off the main hallway contained only empty bookshelves and a desk with nothing in its drawers.
Riley felt frustration building.Another dead end.More precious time wasted while Jilly remained in Leo’s hands.She wanted to scream, to put her fist through a wall, to unleash the howl of anguish that she’d been holding back since she’d first seen that security footage.
Instead, she kept searching.
The kitchen was the last room on the main floor—a dated space with yellowed linoleum and cabinets hanging askew.Bill systematically opened each cabinet while Riley checked the pantry.Nothing but cobwebs and mouse droppings.
Her gaze fell on the refrigerator—an old model with rounded edges, probably from the 1990s.It stood unplugged, its door closed.On instinct, she reached for the handle and pulled it open.
The interior was empty and dark, save for a single folded notecard placed precisely in the center of the middle shelf.With gloved hands, Riley carefully lifted it and unfolded it.
The message inside, written in Leo’s elegant script, made her stomach clench.
“Made you look!And now you’re wondering...what next?”
She stared at the words, bile rising in her throat.This wasn’t a clue.It was a taunt.Leo had set this up days ago, anticipating that she would eventually find this house, interview Smitty, and search until she opened this refrigerator.He had calculated her movements as if he could read her mind.
“Riley?”Bill’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.“What is it?”
She handed him the note without a word.His face darkened as he read it.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.“He’s playing with us.”
“No,” Riley said, her voice hollow.“He’s playing with me.Demonstrating how well he knows me.How he can predict my every move.”She leaned against the kitchen counter, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion.“And I have no idea what his next move will be.”
She looked back at the mocking note, the elegant handwriting swimming before her tired eyes.What next, indeed?What was Leo’s endgame?Was this all just an elaborate form of psychological torture, or was there some greater purpose to his twists and turns?
Wherever he was, whatever he was planning, she knew that Leo Dillard was watching her stumble from one false lead to another.And while she chased shadows, Jilly remained in his hands—a hostage to his obsession, a pawn in his game of cat and mouse.
What next?Riley didn’t know.And she was afraid that uncertainty might cost Jilly her life.