The Girl and the Unlucky 13 (Emma Griffin™ FBI Mystery) A.J. Rivers (historical books to read TXT) 📖

“I would hope they would,” Sam says. “I know I keep an eye out on any abandoned buildings. Before the old high school was turned into the community center, I used to send guys down there to check it out regularly.”

“I remember,” I say.

I also remember the single running shoe sitting in the middle of the track, and the woman waiting for me inside the abandoned building with a knife.

“So they came here to hang out without any adults knowing what they were up to. How is that any different from going to Sherando Ridge?” Dean wonders.

“Going to the park is legal,” I tell him. “They aren’t trespassing. And it’s a good story to tell parents.”

“Alright,” he nods. “But they came clean. They told us they were there with guys when they actually last saw Ashley. Why bother lying about that? Why didn’t they just stick to what they said originally?”

“They knew Emma was getting suspicious,” Sam pipes up from the phone speaker. “They could tell she wasn’t believing their story. Maybe they wanted to seem as though they were opening up and telling the truth, even if it made them look bad.”

“Because the actual truth might make them look even worse,” I add.

“Dean?” Xavier calls from across the yard.

“Yeah, buddy?” Dean calls back.

“What exactly are we looking for?”

“We don’t really know. Maybe we’ll know it when we see it,” Dean says.

“I see a tombstone,” Xavier says.

Dean and I look at each other, then over at Xavier. He’s near a tree that looks half-ravaged by weather and neglect but still has a few scraggly leaves hanging on. He’s leaned over and looking at the ground, hands hanging down by his sides as if he’s trying not to touch anything around him.

We take off toward him. Dean gets to his side first, and the expression on his face changes when he sees what Xavier is looking at. I get there a second later and my stomach drops.

The rock nestled up against the base of the tree is large enough to stand out from the grass grown up around it, but not so large that it’s obvious from the other side of the tree. Tombstone isn’t exactly how I would describe it. But it’s not so far off.

“Show me,” Sam says.

I turn my phone so he can see the rock and the faint etching just barely still visible in the rough gray surface.

RIP

Ten minutes later red and blue lights sweep over the yard and then go still. We hear the unmistakable crackling and garbled voices of police radio transmitters coming around the side of the building. Three stern-faced officers meet us in the middle of the yard.

“Agent Griffin,” one of the officers says, extending his hand to me.

I recognize him as one of the officers who responded the night everything went down at Arrow Lake Campground.

“Officer Perkins,” I say. “Good to see you again.”

“I wish I could say the same, but your being at the site of an emergency call probably doesn’t mean something good is happening,” he replies. “What’s going on here?”

“You remember Dean,” I say, gesturing to my cousin behind me.

The officer nods and reaches out to shake Dean’s hand. “Of course. How are you feeling?”

“Almost as good as new,” Dean says. “Thanks.”

It’s an oversimplification of his actual condition, considering just a few weeks ago an arrow shot from a compound bow tore through his shoulder and out of his back. But he recovered well in the hospital and has barely been showing any signs of lingering pain. Occasionally I notice him favoring that side, but he wouldn’t want anyone to mention it. Acknowledging any lasting effects of the injury would be continuing to acknowledge Rodney Mitchell, something he’s just not willing to do.

“Dean and I are investigating a missing persons case that came up during the initial investigation of the campground. Ashley Stevenson.”

Perkins nods. “I know the name. That’s that girl who ran off when she was with her friends, right? Why are you looking into her? I thought she was a runaway.”

“Why do you think that?” I ask.

He looks confused. “That’s what the detectives said. She was a teenager who got rebellious and ran off.”

“She was thirteen,” I say. “Barely. She’d just turned thirteen a month before. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never known a thirteen-year-old who would be capable of starting a new life and staying invisible for five years. Her parents don’t think she ran away, and we’ve gotten some information that suggests there’s a lot more to her going missing than just her running off. That’s why we’re here.”

The officer’s face goes dark. “Did you find something?”

“I don’t know. It might be absolutely nothing. But considering the gravity of the case we’re investigating, I can’t make that assumption. It needs to be thoroughly looked into,” I say.

“What have you got for me?”

When the officers first see the stone, I can tell it doesn’t have much impact on them. But they aren’t going to tell me they won’t look into it. They call it into the station and a detective arrives. I introduce myself and make my statement.

“Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate the call. I’m going to need to ask you to leave so we can evaluate the scene.”

I can already tell he thinks being here is completely ridiculous. He sees nothing more than a stone with a few letters scratched into it. Getting us to leave is just his way of getting us off his back.

“I’m going to put a call into the detective handling Ashley Stevenson’s case and let him know what’s going on,” I say. “I suggest you put effort into the search. He wants to put this case to bed. If you need anything from me, call. I won’t be available tomorrow. I’m traveling. But I’ll be available the next day.”

“Should be fine, Agent Griffin. You go and enjoy your trip. We’ll be in touch.”

Twenty-Six

“If you don’t ride the rollercoaster first, then