The elderly caregiver walked over and sat down on the edge of River’s bed. “Your father wants to visit, River. He wants to ask for forgiveness from your mother . . . and from you.”
River’s brother, Dan, had already mentioned that their father wanted to make the trip to Missouri. The woman he’d left them for had taken off once her father’s money ran out. Big surprise. Was her father’s request connected to that? Did he want money? Or was she being too suspicious? River had learned a lot about forgiveness over the past couple of months. She’d come to realize that God had paid an unbelievable price for her sins. How could River not try to forgive the man who had destroyed their family? Yet even thinking about him made her feel nauseated.
“I need some time to think about it,” she said. “I’m not sure how this would impact my mother.” She frowned. “Does she know about it?”
Mrs. Weyland shook her head. “Your brother might have said somethin’ about it a while back, but I don’t believe Rose remembers.”
“You spend more time with her than I do,” River said. “What do you think?”
Mrs. Weyland took a deep, slow breath before saying, “I honestly don’t know, honey. She’s mellowed quite a bit over the last few weeks. She asks me to read the Bible to her every day. I think she’s tryin’ hard to find her way back to God. It’s possible that your daddy askin’ for forgiveness might mean the world to her. It’s also possible . . .”
“It could cause her to flip out.”
Mrs. Weyland nodded. “She’s at the point where it’s hard to know just what she’ll do next.” She paused for a moment and stared down at the floor. When she raised her head, River was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“When I took this job, I told you I’d be honest with you.”
“Yes, you did.”
“This disease is cruel,” Mrs. Weyland said slowly. “I wish I could keep it from hurtin’ you, but that’s not possible.”
River felt her stomach tighten. “Just tell me.”
“When you left the kitchen after supper, your mama . . .” She took a shaky breath. “Your mama asked me who you were.”
Even though River had been mentally prepared for what she knew was probably coming, Mrs. Weyland’s words felt like a punch in the stomach. She tried to respond, but she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
“Oh, honey, I truly didn’t want to tell you about it, but I felt I had to. She’s your mama, and my job is to take care of her and keep you updated on her progress.”
“No, it’s okay,” River said, unable to keep her voice from quivering. “It just took me by surprise.”
“If it matters, she’s in her room now, watchin’ TV, and she asked me to tell you to come and say good night before you go to sleep.”
“So, she only forgot me for a little while . . .”
Mrs. Weyland nodded. “Yep, just for a couple of hours, but in most cases, if this disease takes it’s natural course, it will happen more and more.” She leaned forward and gazed at River intently. “The biggest mistake we can make is to forget about Jesus in all this. He’s a healer, honey. I don’t want to strip away your hope. Let’s believe for the best, okay?”
“I will. Thank you. And let me think about this thing with my dad, all right? It sounds like a good thing, but I don’t want to jump into it too quickly.”
Mrs. Weyland rose to her feet. “I’ll pray that God will give you wisdom about it. Good night, honey.”
“Good night.”
After Mrs. Weyland left the room, River just stared at the open notebook in front of her. She couldn’t really make sense of the words scribbled on the pages. All she could think about was her mother . . . and the father she’d once claimed she’d never forgive. What was more important here? Her mother’s stability or her father’s need for absolution?
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
He drove past River’s house. The lights were on. They were all awake. River’s time was running out quickly. He would make his move soon, but as he waited for the perfect time, he’d started to believe that a reminder that he was watching her, planning her demise, was needed.
He had to be careful. If his action was too violent, River and St. Clair might pull up roots and put themselves out of his reach. But until their destined meeting, he had to make her wonder if he was still here. Still stalking her.
Whatever he decided to do, it would be soon. River Ryland was facing extinction—and he was her executioner. He wanted her to remember that. Then, when it happened, she would recall that he warned her. That knowledge made him smile.
RIVER WAS GETTING READY to head to her mother’s room when her phone rang. It was Tony. She picked it up.
“Hey there, what’s going on?”
“Just wondering how you’re doing. I’ve gone through Nathan’s phone. Calls from work and to work. A few calls to family and friends. I’ll check out the names a little more, but there’s nothing that makes my inner alarm go off. As far as April’s phone, there aren’t any recent calls listed, but there are several numbers in her phonebook. I’m writing them down. They don’t mean anything to me, but they might be somewhere in April’s notes.”
River sighed. “Well, her notebook is interesting, but it’s going to take me a while to go through it. She took really good notes. Lots of them.”
“What about the Casanova case?” Tony asked.
“I was just looking at it. April believes it was connected to two other murders four years earlier.”
“Anything that makes you think she was right?”
“Photos of the crime scenes look very similar, but she wasn’t able to prove a connection,” River said. “I was thinking about the possibility these kids were killed by the same person, but if they were, we’re missing something important.”
“No one took credit for it?”
“Exactly,” River said. “As we know, serial killers are narcissistic. They want people to know who they are. What they’ve done. I can’t find anything that makes me think the killer got attention for himself. Also, I’m not finding a signature. Except for the way the teenagers were killed, where the bodies were found, and the time of year they died, nothing else links them. And killings in parks during the winter certainly isn’t unusual. It happens because they’re usually deserted. Oh, and the killer didn’t use the same gun.”
“But if these murders are related and we wrote a profile for them, what would we be looking at?”
