CHAPTER THIRTY
Riley was filled with numb apprehension as Bill drove their car up to the big iron gate. Even from outside, she didn’t like the looks of the little village called “The Dunes.”
During her whole career, she’d never had a single good experience in one of these gated communities. She felt sure that this little excursion into the lives of the rich and privileged wasn’t going to be any different.
Bill stopped the car, and a uniformed guard stepped out of the security hut.
“What’s your business?” he asked.
Bill and Riley both displayed their badges.
“FBI,” Bill said. “A routine visit.”
The guard looked extremely suspicious. Riley couldn’t imagine why.
“Let me see that,” he said, holding his hand out.
With a reluctant look, Bill handed him his badge. The guard held it up to
