Once Cold. Блейк Пирс

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      Riley compared the sketches Sam and his team had put together to the old sketch. The original hadn’t been very lifelike. The artist had been too careful. In Riley’s experience, a little imagination and creativity sometimes helped capture a suspect’s personality.

      Still, Riley could see that Sam and his tech people had done a good job with what they had to work with. They’d tried to cover a range of possibilities. In one of the sketches, the man looked much as he had in the old sketch, except with more lines and wrinkles and graying hair. In another, he had put on more weight, and his jowls drooped. A third showed him with a beard and mustache.

      Riley knew better than to show all three new sketches to potential witnesses at the same time. They’d only get confused. She had to choose just one of them.

      She had a hunch that the sketch that most closely resembled the original would be the best one to work with. She didn’t know exactly why. Something about the original’s expression suggested someone who might not deliberately change his appearance over the years. Also, the man seemed to have a distinctly thin body type. Riley guessed that he wouldn’t have put on much weight.

      Of course, she could be completely wrong. But she knew that it was best to trust her instincts.

      Just then they pulled into the sleepy little town of Greybull. Riley figured that it had a population of less than a thousand people.

      “Where’s our first stop?” Bill asked.

      “The cemetery,” Riley said.

      She gave Bill directions, and they arrived at the cemetery within minutes. Riley brought up a map of the cemetery on her tablet. She and Bill got out of the car and wended their way among the tombstones.

      Soon they found the grave that they were looking for. It was marked by a modest, average-sized stone with the inscription …

      The dates startled Riley. Of course she already knew that Tilda had been twenty when she’d been killed. But Riley hadn’t really stopped to think that Tilda would be forty-five if she were still alive. What might her life have been like? Would she have stayed in this little town and raised a family, or would she have gone far away and pursued an altogether different kind of life? Riley had no idea. And the truth was, nobody would ever know.

      Riley suddenly felt more determined than ever.

      I’ve just got to solve this case.

      Riley saw that two sets of flowers decorated the grave. One was a little bucket of daffodils in cheerfully mixed shades of yellow, orange, and white.

      “Those are pretty,” Bill said, pointing to the daffodils. “Do you think they’re what we’re looking for?”

      Riley didn’t think so. The flowers didn’t look store bought.

      She leaned down and opened a little note that was tied to the bucket handle. The message was short, simple, and heartfelt.

      Dear Tilda,

      Honey, I still miss you. I’ll always miss you. I’ll always love you.

      Mother

      “They’re from Tilda’s mother,” Riley told Bill. “I’m sure the flowers are from Paula’s own garden.” She could imagine Paula carefully cultivating a bed of bulbs she’d planted in a sunny area for early blooms.

      “Does Paula live here in Greybull?” Bill asked.

      “No. Tilda’s parents moved away soon after the murder. Paula still lives in Virginia, though, over on the other side of Richmond. Her husband died last year.”

      Riley felt a pang of sympathy as she remembered Paula telling her on the telephone …

      “What would we become if I forgot Justin or you forgot your mother? I don’t ever want to become that hard.”

      Paula had always struck Riley as a brave person. But she knew that Paula was also intensely private.

      How lonely she must be! Riley thought.

      The other flowers were a more formal bouquet with gladiolas and carnations – an arrangement that might come from a florist. They were held in a plastic cone that had been stuck into the ground.

      Obviously thinking about fingerprints, Bill put on plastic gloves and picked up the cone of flowers, then emptied out the water. He put the arrangement in a plastic bag that he’d brought along for this very purpose.

      A voice called out. “What are you folks doing there?”

      Riley and Bill turned around and saw an anxious-looking man in a security guard uniform walking toward them. He looked as though he might be in his late fifties.