Once Chosen (A Riley Paige Mystery—Book 17)

by Blake Pierce

  As they staggered together, she realized that he was startlingly large and bulky and not as affected by her charge as she had expected. He was regaining his balance and she was struggling with her own. Riley knew she had a desperate fight on her hands, and there was no time to properly assess the situation.

  A glance to the side told her that Ann Marie was still lying motionless in a pile of colorful costume clothing and broken stage props, her face bluish from the man’s attempt to strangle her.

  Am I too late? Riley wondered fearfully.

  Her fleeting inattention to her target was costly. She found herself reeling from a sudden crack to the right side of her head. The man had punched her, and although it had been a glancing blow, she was momentarily dizzy and disoriented. His grinning, wild-eyed face seemed to be swimming in front of her.

  “Oh, Pan is generous tonight!” he said. “He already gave me one life to take, and now he has honored me with another!”

  Pan? Riley wondered as she recovered her wits.

  And was Ann Marie already dead?

  She launched a punch at him, but he intercepted it and clutched her wrist in a vise-like grip.

  He’s strong, she thought. Too strong.

  She twisted her elbow sharply inward, and the man lost his grip on her wrist. He threw another punch at her, but she ducked low, then rushed into what seemed like a jungle of props and clothes hanging from racks.

  She quickly realized she was tangled up in fabric and had no idea where she was. But as the man kept trying to punch her, the clothing served as a buffer to keep any of his blows from landing. Still engulfed by a whirl of costumes, she somehow managed to wade clear of his punches. At least the blows had stopped coming.

  She managed to disentangle herself until she was standing between two costume racks. She realized that she wasn’t going to be able to take this one in by simple physical force. She might not even be able to take him in alive.

  Riley drew her weapon.

  But where is he?

  As if in reply, she heard his voice call out, “It’s no use trying to defy the power of Pan.”

  She flashed back to what she had long ago read about mythology.

  Of course, she thought. Pan is the goat-god.

  Then he burst through the clothing at her, a fair distance away from her. Riley raised her weapon and fired, hitting him in the shoulder. He looked vaguely surprised, then let out of a roar of fury. He staggered toward her again, and she fired again, hitting him in the thigh this time.

  Even though one foot was dragging badly now, he barely seemed to even notice.

  He was limping toward her.

  Reluctantly, Riley raised her gun higher and fired directly into his rib cage.

  With a look of shock on his face, he toppled to his knees.

  Groaning with pain, he cried, “Help me, Pan. Don’t forsake me. I won’t fail you. I’m always faithful to you. Just … stay faithful to me. Don’t let me go down in defeat.”

  Then he tumbled over onto his face.

  Riley looked around among the heaps of costumes lying everywhere until she spotted Ann Marie again. She was coughing, and the color was returning to her face.

  She’s alive, Riley thought with relief, holstering her weapon.

  *

  In a matter of minutes, paramedics arrived at the auditorium in response to Riley’s emergency call. Riley watched as they lifted the killer up from the costume-strewn floor and loaded him onto a gurney.

  Meanwhile, one of the paramedics was checking out Ann Marie, who was seated nearby. The younger agent looked somewhat shaken up but not at all badly hurt.

  Riley asked the medic, “Is my partner going to be all right?”

  He nodded at Riley. “She’s going to be fine. I’d recommend that she come along with us to the hospital for some observation—”

  Ann Marie interrupted sharply, “I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The medic shrugged.

  “Have it your way,” he said. “We’ve got our hands full with this other guy.”

  The medic joined his colleagues in tending to the killer, who had taken three wounds from Riley’s handgun. Riley was amazed that he was still alive.

  Riley walked over to Ann Marie and put her hand on her shoulder.

  “You probably ought to go to the hospital,” Riley said. “One of these days you’re going to learn to respect authority.”

  “I guess I ought to do that,” Ann Marie said.

  Then she squinted at Riley and said, “You just called me your partner.”

  Riley chuckled. “I guess I did at that.”

  “Wow,” Ann Marie said. Then the rookie shuddered. “I guess I’d be dead now if you hadn’t shown up.”

  “Probably,” Riley said.

  “How did you know where I was?”

  Riley stifled a sigh. She didn’t feel like getting into details about how she’d wound up here. For one thing, she felt rather embarrassed about her long stay in the cemetery.

  She explained to Ann Marie, “I called the sheriff. He told me you were here. Then I tried to call you, and when you didn’t answer, I got worried and drove over here. I didn’t see you anywhere outside. I walked around the school until I found a door that was propped open by a book. I came inside and heard a ruckus somewhere inside the building.”

  Riley shrugged and added, “It wasn’t hard to find where all that noise was coming from.”

  Riley heard voices nearby. Then Sheriff Wightman and several of his cops came into the costume and prop storage room. The paramedics were getting ready to roll the killer out on a gurney. Riley saw Wightman’s eyes widen with alarm and worry as he saw the man’s face.

  He leaned over the gurney and said, “Taylor! What happened to you? Are you all right?”

  In a hoarse voice the killer replied, “Pan will be revenged.”

  “Pan?” Wightman said.

  Before the killer could make any effort to reply, one of the medics put an oxygen mask over his face, then wheeled him out of the room. Wightman stared after the gurney with his mouth hanging open.

  Riley said to Wightman, “Do you know that guy?”

  “Yeah, I’ve known him for years,” Wightman said. “That’s Taylor Voigts. What happened to him? What was he talking about ‘Pan’ for?”

  “He’s the killer,” Riley said. “I had to shoot him in order to stop him from killing Agent Esmer.”

  Wightman stared at Riley wide-eyed.

  “My God,” he said.

  “How do you happen to know him?” Riley said.

  “He owns the Calico Deli. My cops and I eat lunch there a lot. He’s lived in this town all his life. Went to this very high school.”

  A deli, Riley thought.

  That probably explained the frozen bodies. A deli owner might well own more than one large freezer chest. Perhaps he kept one of those chests away from public view—in the deli basement, maybe.

  Riley said, “Did you have any idea there was anything wrong with him?”

  Wightman scratched his head. “Well, he’s always been kind of odd. He runs a nice business, and he’s never seemed like a bad sort, but he’s always been awfully nervous and kind of cranky. I seem to remember hearing that he went through some kind of trauma as a kid that maybe he didn’t get over.”

  “I’m sure he’ll tell us more now that he’s in custody,” Riley said.

  Looking somewhat dazed, Wightman followed after the paramedics, leaving Riley and Ann Marie alone in the cluttered room.

  Ann Marie hung her head and said, “I guess I really screwed up, huh?”

  Riley let out a chuckle. “Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it. You’re the one who said it was a bad idea to try to taunt the killer. You were right, and I was wrong. Don’t let it go to your head, though. And I’m not wild about how you snuck back here without telling me. You almost got yourself killed. But …”

  Riley shrugged and said, “It worked out OK. The killer came after
you instead of someone else. And now we’ve got him. All told, I’d say you did a pretty good job for a rookie. We’re not a bad team.”

  Ann Marie beamed proudly. She tried to get up from the chair, but still seemed a little wobbly.

  That’s no surprise, Riley thought.

  Riley helped her get up and said, “Come on, let’s get out of here. We could both use a snack and a good night’s sleep.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  A while later, Riley realized that her younger partner could barely keep her eyes open. Ann Marie’s eyelids were drooping and her head was nodding. They were sitting in a diner where they’d ordered sandwiches and coffee. Riley was hungry, and she had eaten her own sandwich eagerly, but Ann Marie seemed to have little appetite and only nibbled at hers.

  “I don’t remember ever being this tired,” Ann Marie mumbled.

  Riley smiled at how she sounded almost like she was talking in her sleep.

  “I’ll bet,” Riley said. “You’ve had one hell of a night. Come on, let’s get back to our rooms. You need to get some sleep.”

  Ann Marie had already returned her rented car, and Riley drove them to the motel in the FBI vehicle they’d been using all along. She escorted her exhausted partner into her room and watched as she flopped down on her bed and went straight to sleep.

  Riley went back to her own room, but she’d just gotten inside when her phone buzzed.

  She saw that the call was from Sheriff Wightman.

  “I hope I’m not calling too late,” he said.

  “No, it’s fine,” Riley said, eager to hear whatever news he might want to share.

  “I’m at the hospital with Taylor Voigts. You’d never believe he’d been shot three times.”

  An image flashed through Riley’s mind of the big man lurching relentlessly toward her, even when he’d been shot twice and was dragging one foot. She’d seldom faced that kind of manic persistence.

  The sheriff continued, “He’s been talking nonstop all this time, saying the craziest things you can imagine.”

  “I’ll bet,” Riley said.

  “He says that Goatman is really the god Pan, and that he’s Pan’s servant, and that this is just some temporary setback. Pan will prevail, he says, and some kind of apocalyptic ‘panic’ is still on its way. He also told us where he’d buried Henry Studdard and Deena McHugh. My guys and I will check out those locations tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find the bodies there,” Riley said.

  She heard the sheriff take a long, slow breath. She knew he wasn’t looking forward to that grim task.

  “He’s also told us about that childhood trauma I mentioned,” Wightman said. “One Halloween, he went out on a camping trip with some older pals. They decided to play a prank on him. They told him a lot of scary Goatman stories, then left him alone in the woods in the dark. It was just supposed to be some kind of initiation thing. But Taylor got lost, and it took two whole days before a search team could find him. He never seemed to quite get over it …”

  Wightman’s voice faded away.

  Then he added, “I guess that explains the whole thing, huh?”

  Riley’s mind boggled at how such an experience could traumatize a child, probably for life.

  “It’s a start, anyway,” Riley said.

  Then Wightman said, “I can’t thank you and your partner enough for how you’ve taken care of this. If it weren’t for you two, someone else would probably be dead by now. God knows how long it would have taken to stop this guy.”

  Riley smiled and said, “I think my partner deserves your thanks more than I do. I made my share of mistakes this time out. She’s the one who finally located the killer.”

  Even if she almost got herself killed in the process, she thought.

  “Well, let her know I’m grateful,” Wightman said. “You two have a safe drive back to Quantico tomorrow.”

  “We’ll do that,” Riley said.

  She ended the call and found herself thinking about Taylor Voigts, the ordinary town businessman who’d turned out to be a serial killer. She remembered the madness in his eyes when they’d struggled earlier tonight. She was sure that his lawyer would plead not guilty on the basis of insanity.

  Riley normally hated insanity defenses. But in this case, she couldn’t disagree. Taylor Voigts was hopelessly insane. All that mattered to Riley was that he be put away for a very long time. He would probably spend the rest of his life in some kind of mental institution. He’d never be a threat to the public again.

  Riley took a long, hot shower and put on her pajamas. She came out of the bathroom and sent a text message home to tell April, Jilly, and Gabriela that the case was finished and she’d be driving back home tomorrow morning.

  Then she opened her laptop computer and to her FBI email account for one last time tonight. Among a routine batch of company memos, she saw an email from an unknown address with a cryptic subject line.

  To RP from JR

  She realized with a start what the initials “JR” might stand for.

  Jenn Roston!

  Her hands were shaking as she opened the email, which was written in all caps in a peculiar, telegraph-like style.

  RILEY. I NEVER MEANT TO GET BACK IN TOUCH WITH YOU. I KNEW IT MIGHT BE COMPROMISING TO YOU. BUT NOW I FEEL THAT I MUST, IF ONLY OUT OF GRATITUDE FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID FOR ME. I KNOW YOU THINK I HAVE GONE BACK TO A.C. AND HER CRIME NETWORK. I DID NOT. I GOT CLEAR OF HER FOREVER. THANKS TO YOU, I FEEL THAT I CAN START LIFE ALL OVER AGAIN. IT WILL BE WITH A NEW NAME IN A NEW PLACE. YOU WILL NEVER FIND ME. BUT PLEASE KNOW THAT I AM ALL RIGHT.

  J.R.

  Riley immediately knew what the initials “A.C.” stood for.

  Aunt Cora.

  Riley felt a lump of emotion rise in her throat as she reread another sentence.

  YOU WILL NEVER FIND ME.

  Her eyes stinging with tears, Riley climbed into bed.

  “It’s over,” she murmured aloud, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “I’ll never see Jenn again.”

  But just as she started to fall asleep, another sentence echoed through her head.

  THANKS TO YOU, I FEEL THAT I CAN START LIFE ALL OVER AGAIN.

  “She’s going to be OK,” Riley whispered aloud, then fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  The next morning, Riley felt a strange mix of emotions as she parked in front of her townhouse in Fredericksburg. For a few moments, she just sat in her car staring at her house, thinking about a lot of things. She was glad to be home, of course. But her home life was very different from her life as a BAU agent, and it always required some readjustment. Was she ready to start being a mother again right here and now, when just yesterday she’d shot a madman three times?

  She’d had no time to unwind—and no real time to herself—since the killer had been caught. The drive back from Winneway had seemed much longer than it really was, and she’d been grateful to finally drop Ann Marie off at her apartment in Quantico. Her junior partner had obviously gotten a better night’s sleep than Riley had, and this morning she’d been her usual perky, talkative self. She’d chattered away about an indiscriminate range of subjects, including the case they’d just solved, crime fighting techniques, the latest fashions, celebrity gossip, and popular music.

  Again Riley had found herself wondering whether she could really keep working with this young woman. She had to admit that the girl had done excellent work on the case—better than Riley’s own efforts in some ways. At least Ann Marie hadn’t made any huge mistakes, like risking the public’s safety by misleading them about having the killer in custody. In fact, Ann Marie had rightly called Riley out on that tactic.

  All the same, Riley wondered whether she and Ann Marie could ever feel the chemistry she’d had with Bill, or with her two other young protégés, Lucy Vargas and Jenn Roston …

  With a sudden surge of emotion, Riley spoke the two names aloud.

  “Lucy and Jenn.”

  She’d shared a
lot with them, had been proud of their work and their promising talents, and had developed deep nearly-parental feelings for them …

  And now they’re both gone.

  What might become of Ann Marie if Riley kept working with her?

  All Riley knew right now was that she missed working with Bill terribly. But was that partnership even going to be possible now that their relationship was evolving into—what, exactly?

  Riley also found herself brooding about her pointless vigil in the cemetery. She felt embarrassed about that mistake—embarrassed and worried.

  Were her well-known instincts, her keenly honed gut feelings, starting to fail from age and overuse?

  Maybe it’s time to do something different, she thought.

  She finally got out of her car and walked up to her front door. When she reached her front stoop, the door flew open.

  Riley felt a wild rush of horror.

  The figure in front of her appeared to be a walking corpse, its face falling apart from decay, and naked ribs showing through its tattered jacket.

  For several seconds, Riley believed she was caught in one of her awful nightmares.

  Then the corpse spoke in a familiar voice.

  “Cool costume, isn’t it, Mom?”

  The mask came off, and Riley saw Jilly’s happy face.

  Jilly said, “It’s what I wore last night trick-or-treating. I put it back on this morning, just for you. It was April’s idea. She thought you’d get a kick out of seeing it.”

  Riley felt a burst of relief.

  “Yeah, it’s … uh …cool,” she stammered. “I’m—I’m really impressed.”

  “Come on inside,” Jilly said. “April has breakfast all ready.”

  “April?” Riley asked. “Is Gabriela all right?”

  “Sure,” Jilly replied with a giggle. “But April wanted to do it.”