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

thought you actually cared about what happened. I thought you were really coming here to help us,” she says.

“I am,” I tell her.

“Then what the hell were you doing while the police were pulling my daughter’s body out of the ground?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“What?” I ask, feeling the color drain from my face.

An officer appears behind Misty and takes hold of her shoulders, pulling her away from me as she tries to force herself closer.

“Calm down, Mrs. Stevenson,” he says. “This isn’t going to do you any good.”

“Wait, what is she talking about?” I ask.

“Agent Griffin.”

A familiar voice from behind me makes me turn around. I see one of the detectives I interacted with at the campground standing at the door to the back of the station and walk up to him.

“You want to tell me what the hell is happening here?” I demand.

“Come on back with me,” he says.

Misty is still fighting behind me and I gesture toward her.

“You’re just going to ignore her? She’s clearly distraught,” I say.

“We’re having transport take her to the hospital for sedation. She says she hasn’t slept in the last few days. Clearly, it’s starting to affect her,” he says.

He ushers me through the door and into an office where we sit down.

“What is she talking about? You found Ashley Stevenson’s remains?” I ask.

“Not exactly. I can’t go so far as to say that right at this moment. The team alerted us to your call yesterday. The responding officers didn’t seem to think there was much to the stone against the tree, but it struck my interest. This case has been hanging over this department for years now, and even though the general belief is that she ran away, there are still questions. It’s not settled until we know exactly what happened,” he explains.

“She didn’t run away,” I tell him. “And the more you repeat that, the less likely it’s going to be that you ever find her.”

“Which is exactly why I decided the schoolyard needed more investigation. We sent a team out there and they brought cadaver dogs with them. Both dogs alerted in the area around the tree. That suggests there is evidence of human remains in the area of the rock marked RIP. Now, you know as well as I do that a cadaver dog alerting to a spot is not conclusive. It doesn’t necessarily mean there was a body, and even that doesn’t prove that the person was killed,” he says.

“I know. There are a lot of things a dog can alert to without its being a corpse, but two dogs alerting to an area that has a marker on it seems compelling,” I say.

“It is,” the detective agrees. “So, we are excavating the area.”

“If you are only excavating, how did Misty Stevenson find out?” I ask. “She’s out there on the brink of snapping. Who told her what was going on?”

“The media caught wind of the cadaver dogs out there. Mrs. Stevenson showed up at the station saying she knew the dogs had to do with Ashley because your name was mentioned in the news report.”

I roll my eyes, then close them and rub the lids with my fingers. “Shit. People have got to stop thinking that freedom of the press means the right to blow up investigations.”

“We’ve tried to reassure her, but as you saw, the news is hitting her hard,” he says.

“Do you think it’s possible Ashley is buried there?” I ask.

“I don’t have an answer for that. Right now, all we have is the response from the dogs and the rock. The excavation is underway and we should have more answers tomorrow,” he says.

“Thank you for letting me know,” I say.

He looks me up and down and a strange hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I have to say, I’m used to seeing you so put together. It’s interesting to see you a little messy.”

I look down at my jeans and old t-shirt. I’m sweaty and not wearing any makeup. My hair is tied behind my head but a good portion of it has slithered its way out of the elastic band over the course of the day.

“I was celebrating a very dear friend’s birthday today. He wanted to go to a theme park,” I tell him.

“A theme park?”

“He loves roller coasters.”

“Don’t you have enough adrenaline in your life, Agent Griffin?”

Misty is no longer in the lobby when I leave the station. I call Dean on speakerphone as I pull out of the parking lot.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. They sent cadaver dogs to the schoolyard and they hit on something near the tree,” I explain.

“Do they think it’s Ashley?” he asks.

“They don’t have any real details yet. They’re excavating the area. I’m headed over there now to see what I can find out.”

“Alright. Keep me posted.”

“I will. How is everybody?”

“Xavier fell asleep. Sam says he’s going to stay here until you’re back,” he says.

“Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say.

I end the call and drive another few miles to end up on the empty road leading to the abandoned elementary school. Seeing how far out of town this place is makes it easy to understand the decision to close it down. There’s an isolated, unnerving feeling about the area. The fact that it’s empty and overgrown definitely contributes to that, but I don’t think even bright green grass and hallways full of students could take away all of the disconnected feeling.

The cars parked in front of the building and floodlights illuminating the entire yard are a stark contrast to the still quiet from the day before. I park and jog up to the nearest officer.

“Agent Emma Griffin, FBI,” I say. “I need to speak with the supervising officer.”

The woman gives a single nod. “Wait here.”

She leaves and I take the few steps over to the chain-link fence surrounding the yard. Threading the fingers of one hand through the gaps, I