That would have been two years ago. Maybe since then the killerhad treated that grave as a sort of shrine.
If so …
Maybe he’d come here again exactly a year ago on Halloween night,with the purpose of meditating at this grave before striking again.
But would he come here again tonight?
Riley didn’t know.
But again, she started to slip into his mind as she pictured himstanding there looking down at the double gravestone. She could imagine himfeeling a weird, occult charge from knowing that someday Yvonne’s body would bediscovered, and she would be brought here for her final rest. The visit had aprofound effect on the killer.
He felt very powerful.
And he felt ready for a new victim.
When he’d turned away from the gravestone, Riley thought he’dgone back through the park the way Riley herself had come, retracing his ownsteps. When he’d come within view of the street, he’d ducked behind the bushwhere Riley had just been.
And then …
Riley felt sure of what had happened then.
He’d lured Allison off the street and killed her.
Riley’s sense of connection to the killer broke at a rustlingsound behind her.
She turned around, and her heart jumped up into her throat atwhat she saw. This was no simple devilish costume.
It was a weird creature with a snout, two horns, and hairy legs.
The Goatman!
She drew her weapon.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Riley leveled her weapon at the weird, animal-like figure. He washeavy and tall, with horns extending from a massive head. She didn’t want totangle with him physically if she could avoid it.
“FBI!” she barked. “Put your hands up!”
The figure obediently stopped in his tracks and raised his arms.His voice sounded genuinely scared as he stammered a high-pitched reply:
“I—I don’t understand.”
Before Riley could explain, a group of costumed children camedashing into the graveyard. They ran around the grotesque character shoutingwith mock terror.
“Eee! Eee! The Goatman! The Goatman! The Goatman!”
Suddenly the whole situation seemed weirdly unreal to Riley.
What on earth is going on? she wondered.
One of the children pointed at Riley and squealed out, “Look!”
The other children turned and let out shrieks of terror at thesight of Riley with her weapon aimed at the goat figure. Several of them ranaway. The smallest kid, dressed up as a one-eyed pirate, grabbed the man by oneof his hairy legs.
“Don’t shoot my brother!” he screamed at Riley. “Please don’tshoot him!”
Riley’s spirits sank as she began to realize she’d made a bigmistake. She’d let her imagination run away with her at the sight of such avivid costume.
“Take off your mask,” she commanded the costumed figure.
He obeyed and lifted the entire goat-like head up and off of hisown. Riley saw that the unmasked “Goatman” looked like a teenaged boy. A ratherlarge boy, but probably not a dangerous one. He stared at her with his mouthhanging open and his eyes wide with terror.
“I—I didn’t do anything! I promise.”
Riley herself stammered now, “Why—why are you dressed like that?”
The boy shrugged. “It’s Halloween. I dress up like this everyyear. I made the head myself out of papier mâché. But I’m not the only kid whowears this kind of costume. Lots of others do. Haven’t you ever heard of theGoatman?”
With a discouraged sigh, Riley lowered her weapon and put it backin her holster. She reminded herself that the Goatman was a Maryland urbanlegend. It wasn’t surprising that some kids around here dressed up as thecreature every Halloween. It was probably a common costume.
I should have expected this, she told herself.
The boy lowered his hands and peered at Riley.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “You’re not FBI. What is this, somekind of Halloween prank?”
Riley stared back at him, unsure what he meant.
He added, “I heard the cops have got the Goatman in custody. Soyou’re not really after the killer. Sure, local cops are always out onHalloween, but the FBI’s got no business here, not now. So who are you really?Is that even a real gun?”
Riley rolled her eyes wearily.
There’s no way to explain, she thought.
“I’m really FBI,” she said. “Look closer at this badge if you don’tbelieve me. Or—go ahead, don’t believe me. It doesn’t matter. You’re notsupposed to be out here. There’s a curfew, and you know it, and the cops outhere tonight mean business. So get on home. Don’t make this harder than it hasto be.”
The boy grumbled under his breath. Then he looked down at thelittle pirate, who was still clinging to his leg. “It’s okay,” he said. “Whereare the other kids?”
The child let go and pointed to the others, who were clusteredbehind one of the larger grave markers. With a final skeptical glance at Riley,the teenager led the children away.
As Riley leaned against a tree and tried to gather her wits, sheremembered what the boy had just said.
“I heard the cops have got the Goatman in custody. So you’renot really after the killer.”
She knew that meant the killer’s apparent alter ego had finallybeen leaked to the public. She’d known all along that it was only a matter oftime. And now that she’d blown her own cover, word would soon get around thatthe FBI was still in the area for some reason. How soon would the public figureout that the supposed arrest was only a ruse, and that the killer was still atlarge?
Not long, she figured.
And that wasn’t going to make things any easier for her or forSheriff Wightman and his team.
Meanwhile, she wondered what to do next.
Everything was very still and quiet in the graveyard now. She sawno sign of anyone. It was getting late—too late even for boisterous youngpeople, especially with cops on patrol.
But what about the killer?
Might he show up here even yet?
For all Riley knew, he might have been lurking unseen around herefor a while now. If he’d witnessed her encounter with the costumed boy and thesmaller children, would he sneak away and go into hiding, and possibly not tryto kill until next Halloween? That had been one of her principal worries tobegin with.
But as Riley tried to tap into her sense of the killer, shethought otherwise. If she was
