The Case of the Disappeared Diabetic
The Case of the Castlewood Casanova
The last case was the one Nathan had mentioned. River decided to listen to it first. She clicked on the link and a female voice began to talk. April. She had a soft, pleasing tone. River wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but April sounded so . . . normal. Why was this young woman so interested in these violent cold cases? It was an important question. One she wished they’d asked Nathan when he was here. She paused the episode and then went back up to the top of the page, where she found a link to April’s bio.
She selected it and found herself on a page with a different photo of April. The bio contained the usual things, where she was born, where she’d attended college, etc. It turned out that at one point, she’d been studying for a degree in English. She’d wanted to be an English teacher. River wondered why that hadn’t happened. Had she dropped out? How do you get from wanting to be a teacher to investigating cold-crime cases?
Then she started on the second paragraph. When April was a child, her mother was murdered. At one time, April’s father was the prime suspect. River wasn’t completely surprised. Family members are always looked at first. Most murders are committed by family or so-called friends. But after he was cleared, there were no arrests. It seemed that the case turned cold. April actually left college to investigate the murder herself. She was never able to figure out who killed her mother—nor could the police. It was now obvious to River why April began the podcast. She’d seen what can happen when murders remain unsolved. She obviously felt driven to help others who were in the same situation she’d been in. River couldn’t help but feel sorry for April’s father. He lost his wife, and now his daughter had disappeared. She could understand why he might suspect that Nathan was involved in some way. If River was in his shoes, it would certainly occur to her. However, if Nathan was guilty, he wouldn’t come looking for someone to investigate his crime. He’d want it ignored. If she and Tony decided to take this case, they would want to talk to April’s dad. Would he be willing to talk to them? Hopefully, he’d welcome the idea that someone was looking for his daughter, even if he believed she’d left on her own accord.
Following the bio, there was a Scripture. Job 12:22. “He uncovers deep things out of darkness, and brings the shadow of death to light.”
For some reason, the Scripture made River shift in her chair. The words were so powerful, and they resonated with her. Is that what she and Tony were doing? Working with God to bring darkness into the light? River suddenly felt an even deeper bond with April. It was as if the cries of their souls were the same. From the time she was a young girl, River had felt called to battle wickedness. Her father’s betrayal had awakened something inside her. His rigid standards and his commitment to pastoring a church he professed to care for wasn’t enough to keep him from running off with the church secretary and abandoning his wife and children. River had watched her mother disintegrate and had felt her father’s rejection. It made her angry, even vengeful. It had also given her a deep understanding of right and wrong as well as a desire to see justice done. As crazy as it sounded, her father’s treachery was the impetus that led her to becoming a behavioral analyst for the FBI. A dream had died when her father left—and a dream had died when April’s mother was killed. Yet both she and April had developed a quest for righteousness. Of course, once she came face-to-face with a loving and merciful God, River finally realized that He wasn’t the God her father had preached about. God was love, and although River was still driven to eradicate criminals from society, her desire was no longer based in hate.
River heard a muffled noise and looked over at Tony. He gestured toward her headphones, and she took them off.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“You were making odd noises.”
She frowned at him. “What kind of odd noises?”
He smiled, the corners of his gray-blue eyes crinkling. “Hard to explain. Kind of a cross between sighing and humming.”
“Humming? I don’t think I . . .”
He shook his head. “Not like humming a tune. You kept saying hmmmm over and over.”
This made River laugh. “That makes more sense. I don’t see myself as the humming type.”
“Definitely not.” He appeared to study her for a moment before saying, “Something interesting?”
“Yes. I was reading April’s bio.” She quickly filled him in on what she’d discovered.
“Wow. I guess we know why she was so interested in solving crimes.”
“Sorry about the sighing and humming.”
“Not a problem,” Tony said. “While you were busy making noises, I called Arnie. Sent the fingerprints to him, but as we suspected, he wants the actual letter.”
“Why don’t you take it to him?” River said. “I’ve got quite a bit of work to do here.”
“I . . . I don’t want to be gone that long,” Tony said. “A trip to pick up lunch is one thing, but . . .”
“It’s been almost a month since the Strangler’s little friend sent that Christmas card,” River said. “We haven’t heard a peep since then. Could you be overreacting?”
“He bugged our offices, River,” Tony said sternly. “We can’t just blow that off. He’s been in here.”
“Calm down,” she said. “I understand what you’re saying, but I’m tired of letting this guy control us, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I really am. But we have to keep our guard up until he’s behind bars.” Tony frowned at her. “He helped Baker kill all those women, and if he didn’t kill Jacki himself, he most surely murdered David.”
David Prescott was the man who just happened to be walking near the Salt River the night Baker shot Tony and threw River into the water. David called the police, and they arrived just in time to pull River out before she drowned. He testified at Baker’s trial and helped to put the serial killer behind bars. Then a few months ago, he disappeared. Law enforcement hadn’t been able to find him.
“I don’t want to sound like a grump,” Tony continued, “but I really don’t want you to leave this office again when I’m not here. Even to chase me down because you want to add something to your lunch order.”
“Tony, that’s ridiculous. It’s daytime. We’re surrounded by people. The building even has a security guard. With all the cameras, no one would try anything here.” She pointed her finger at him. “Besides, aren’t I safer with my phone? What if I needed to call for help?”
“It’s a good point. So from now on, don’t leave it in the car.”
“Great idea,” she said, her tone slightly sarcastic. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She leaned back in her chair and stared at him. “We’ve done everything we can to stay safe in this building. You need to trust that.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said slowly. “I still wonder if we should move out of here.”
“We talked about that and decided that this is the most secure place for us.” She waved her hand toward the cameras mounted on the ceiling. “Look, I’ve been worried about our safety, that’s true. But not here. Not in our office. Since installing the cameras, I feel we’re very well protected. Better than anywhere else we could go.”
He shook his head. “I know. Still, I’ll be glad when that slimeball is in prison—or dead.”
“Wow, where’s all the ‘love your enemy’ stuff you said you believed? And where is your faith? I lean on your strength, you know.”
Tony sighed loudly. “I do have faith, and don’t preach my own words back to me. I pray for this guy, River. But I’m tired of this. How long do you have to live under the Strangler’s influence?”
River just stared at him. It was a good question, and one that she couldn’t answer. Tony was usually so strong. But he was a human being too, and it was clear that he was getting weary from the pressure. At that moment, a Scripture popped into her head. She was pretty sure it wasn’t just her own thoughts. “Isn’t there something in Isaiah that says, ‘But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint’?”
Tony stared at her for a moment, and the tightness in his face relaxed. “Yes. Yes, there is. Isaiah 40:31.” He sighed. “If anyone had told me a couple of months ago that you would be encouraging me with Scripture, I wouldn’t have believed it. But here you are. You’ve come a long way in a short time.”
“I told you that I read the Bible when I was younger, and my father quoted verses a lot. I heard it. I memorized it. But he used God’s Word as a weapon. Thanks to you, those Scriptures he parroted have finally come alive. I’ve learned the Bible is full of hope, faith . . . and love. Now it’s powerful. Real. I’m seeing it in a whole new light.” Her voice caught as she choked out the next words. “And it’s because you just . . . cared about me. Kept being an example of what Christians should be. I don’t know where I would be . . . without you.”
