CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Awhile later, Riley stood in the police station looking through the two-way mirror into the interview room at James Reed Tiller. He was chained to the heavy, battleship-gray table, staring at the tabletop. He looked strangely catatonic, almost like a figure of wax.
But Riley sensed that there was a lot boiling inside him.
His murderous self, so long suppressed but always lurking deep inside, had finally risen again.
And now he was going to pay the consequences.
Riley heard footsteps to her left, then a woman’s voice.
“Riley? Are you Riley?”
Riley smiled. She recognized that voice at once. It was Paula Steen. She turned and saw her. Paula was every bit the sweet little grandmotherly figure Riley had always imagined when talking to her on the phone.
“They told me
