Waiting

by Blake Pierce

  “Not so odd,” John said. “It sounds like a Spanish name. In fact, it has some extra significance in Spanish.”

  John sat smiling at her, as if inviting Riley to make a guess.

  Riley squinted and said, “Well, I really sucked at Spanish in high school, and—”

  John gently interrupted, “It’s a second-person singular form of the verb ‘vejar.’”

  Riley shrugged. She couldn’t remember that word, or if she’d ever learned it at all.

  John said, “Vejar means to vex or to mistreat—or to humiliate.”

  Riley’s eyes widened.

  She said, “So the poet’s last name literally means ‘you humiliate’ in Spanish! Which is exactly what the killer does to his victims by dressing and making them up as clowns!”

  John nodded, smiling broadly.

  Riley silently read the poem yet again.

  She could imagine that killer’s fascination and delight at this poem’s riddles …

  Or …

  Maybe he wouldn’t notice it at all.

  Anyway, she was still sure that Crivaro could give her a dozen reasons why it wouldn’t work. And of course, he’d be right.

  Besides, she reminded herself, it was just an exercise …

  “Not something we’d really do.”

  She and John kept sitting together, not returning to their original places on opposite sides of the table, even though they’d finished the work they’d started. It felt right somehow to stay close—and it made it easier to hear each other over the talking and the music in the room.

  They read the poem to each other over again and talked about how clever it was, really relishing what they’d just done together.

  Riley was startled at how good she felt—better, she thought, than she’d felt in days.

  After all, even when Crivaro had congratulated her on doing something right, the pressure really didn’t let up. She’d still felt the need to keep proving herself to him. His occasional words of praise didn’t erase the chronic insecurity she’d been feeling lately …

  But this … right now …

  Being around John was so different

  It was so easy and effortless.

  It felt like such a huge relief to be able to talk openly with him about things she seldom ever talked about. And it was so stimulating and energizing to generate ideas with him, come up with a plan together, even if it was only a hypothetical exercise.

  As they continued talking about one thing or another, Riley’s enjoyment began to fade into melancholy. She wondered …

  Why is it so rare in my life … this simple thing I’ve got right now, this friendship?

  Soon John seemed to notice a change in her demeanor.

  Finally he said, “You seem sad, Riley. Is something wrong?”

  Riley sighed deeply.

  “Well, I guess I’ve already told you about most of it, but …”

  She hesitated for a moment, then said …

  “Things aren’t good between me and Ryan, my fiancé. They ought to be great. He’s got this wonderful job as an entry-level attorney at a law firm, and here I am training for the FBI, and …”

  She stopped herself short from telling John she was pregnant.

  She knew it wasn’t because she thought there was anything wrong with telling him, but she hadn’t told anyone in the intern program. She hadn’t even told Crivaro.

  Instead she said, “Ryan and I have been spending more time apart. And whenever we are together …”

  Riley’s voice faded.

  John said, “You feel at odds with each other, don’t you? Like you’re having trouble understanding all the new things that are going on for both of you. You’re not connecting like you think you should.”

  Riley nodded, and she felt a knot of emotion in her throat.

  John was so empathetic—and she really needed a little empathy right now.

  Then John said, “Well, it sounds perfectly natural to me, with all the changes that are going on in both of your lives. It’s just a transition. You’ll get through it.”

  He shrugged and said, “But what do I know? I’ve never been engaged.”

  Then he laughed and added, “And besides, I’m not the one with a psych degree.”

  Riley laughed too.

  Their laughter faded, and John sat looking at her with a kindly expression.

  Then he said, “Just answer one question for me—yes or no.”

  “OK,” Riley said.

  John leaned toward her and said …

  “Is Ryan an idiot?”

  Riley’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “What?” she said.

  “It’s really a simple question. Yes or no?”

  Riley laughed nervously and said, “Actually, Ryan’s really very intelligent and—”

  John interrupted, “That’s a ‘no,’ so stop right there. That’s all I needed to hear. He’s not an idiot, so he knows a good thing when he’s got it. He’s not going to let go of you.”

  John leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin with mock-sagacity.

  He continued, “And I know from first-hand experience that you’re anything but an idiot. Which means you wouldn’t be with Ryan if he weren’t right for you. And you’re not going to let him go.”

  John snapped his fingers and said, “So … there you have it. You’re both smart enough to know when you’ve got a good thing going. That means you’re going to be all right together. Just give yourself some time.”

  Riley smiled a smile that felt like it went all the way down to her toes.

  When was the last time anyone had said anything so sweet to her?

  Maybe he’s even right, she thought.

  Just then a fast and loud pop song came to an end, and the dancers on the floor shifted gears as a softer, slower song started.

  Riley felt a bittersweet pang as she recognized the song: “One More Night” by Phil Collins.

  It had been a favorite of hers for a long time now. Of course it was an old song, and she’d taken some teasing about it from her friends at Lanton, who were generally into the latest upbeat pop fare.

  She especially remembered how Trudy used to nudge her and call her “grandma” whenever they listened to it together.

  Then she and Trudy would both laugh.

  She remembered the musical sound of Trudy’s laugh, the brightness of her smile …

  I’ll never hear that laugh again.

  I’ll never see that smile again.

  It was an almost unbearable thought.

  But even so, those were beautiful memories to have.

  John touched her on the shoulder and said, “Do you like this song?”

  Riley smiled at him and nodded.

  John gently took her by the hand and said, “Come on, then.”

  He led her out onto the dance floor, and within moments they were close together and cozily swaying to the music.

  Riley felt so warm and safe and relaxed, she thought she might melt into John’s arms.

  It was an amazing feeling—all the more so because there was nothing sexual about it.

  John was a kindly, sympathetic friend—nothing more, nothing less.

  And she was sure that he felt the same way about her.

  Then Riley was jarred by the sound of her phone buzzing in her pocket.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said to John.

  “It’s OK,” he said. “You’d better get that.”

  Riley took out her phone. As she’d expected, she saw that the caller was Ryan.

  She was shocked by the abrupt shift in her feelings.

  As she took the call, she wondered …

  Why do I feel so down all of a sudden?

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Stepping off the dance floor, Riley moved away to find a quieter spot so she could talk with Ryan on her cell phone.

  “I hear voices and music,” Ryan said. “Where are you?”

  Riley felt yet another pang as the Phil
Collins song kept on playing.

  She realized …

  Ryan doesn’t even know how much I like this song.

  I’ve never told him.

  For some reason, that seemed to matter a lot right now.

  She said, “I’m at a Georgetown bar called King Tut’s.”

  Ryan said nothing in reply.

  Feeling a little irritated, Riley said …

  “Look, I told you I was going out with some friends. I thought you were OK with it.”

  “I am,” Ryan said.

  But he didn’t sound to Riley like he was OK with much of anything right now.

  And she couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt at having said that word …

  Friends.

  Was she being dishonest by making it sound like she was out with friends—plural?

  She’d had next to nothing to do with the other interns except John. They certainly hadn’t seemed to want anything to do with her.

  Riley asked, “Where are you?”

  “I’m still at work, but I’m headed home soon. I just wondered if there’s anything to eat at home.”

  Riley sighed and said, “You ought to know. You made a nice tuna and pasta salad. There’s some left over in the refrigerator.”

  “It’s kind of old,” Ryan grumbled.

  Riley stifled a groan and managed not to say …

  “You made it only yesterday.”

  She knew it wouldn’t help. Ryan was in no mood to agree with her about anything.

  Finally Ryan said, “It’s OK. I’ll pick up something on the way.”

  Then he ended the call.

  Riley stood there staring at the phone in her hand. She didn’t know whether she felt more furious or hurt.

  He wants me to feel guilty, she realized.

  What bothered her most was that she did feel guilty.

  Just why, she wasn’t sure.

  She heard John say, “Is something wrong?”

  She turned and saw him standing next to her with a concerned expression on his face. Riley wondered—what should she tell him? She more than half wanted to say …

  Nothing’s wrong. Let’s keep right on talking and dancing.

  But that wasn’t an option now.

  It was no longer possible for her to enjoy her evening.

  Finally she sighed and said …

  “I guess it’s time for me to get home.”

  John nodded and said nothing. Riley sensed that he’d figured something was off between her and Ryan and that she’d rather not talk about it.

  Riley gave him a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek, then turned to leave the bar.

  “Wait a minute,” John said. “How are you going to get home?”

  “Like I always do, the metro,” Riley said.

  John rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, don’t be silly. I’ll get you home. I was planning on taking a cab myself. We’ll catch one together.”

  Riley waved her hand in protest.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “You mustn’t cut your evening short. You should go spend your time with your friends over there.”

  John looked at the table where the other interns were sitting. He laughed.

  “With that bunch? That would be kind of a letdown after …” He broke off whatever he was going to say, then added, “I’m ready to call it quits. Come on, let’s go.”

  Riley left a tip on the table and followed John outside, where he flagged down a cab for them.

  Neither of them said much on to the ride to Riley’s apartment. It wasn’t exactly an awkward silence. Riley was in no mood to talk, and John obviously respected that.

  As they neared Riley’s apartment building, she noticed John looking out the cab window at the rundown neighborhood where she lived. It looked especially seedy at night, with young men loitering on the sidewalks dressed in what looked like gang attire.

  Riley didn’t notice any particular change in John’s expression, but she could imagine what he might be thinking. Coming as he did from a wealthy family, John surely lived in much more upscale surroundings.

  Was he shocked by where she lived?

  He’s lived such a sheltered and privileged life, she thought, remembering again how John had run out of the morgue at the sight of a teenaged corpse.

  Was he really ready to live the life he had chosen—the life of a dedicated law enforcement agent, almost constantly faced with horrors that most people could scarcely imagine?

  Riley knew that he was hopeful and idealistic, but …

  Does he know what he’s in for?

  The cab pulled up to Riley’s apartment building. Riley reached over and squeezed John’s hand.

  “Thanks so much for such a lovely time,” she said with a smile.

  “Thank you,” he said, smiling back. “Let’s do it again soon.”

  Riley climbed out of the cab and went into the building, then downstairs to their basement apartment. When she went inside, she was relieved to see that the lights were still off. Ryan hadn’t gotten home yet.

  She turned on the lights and went straight to the refrigerator and took out the glass bowl of tuna and pasta salad that Ryan had made yesterday. She took the aluminum foil off the top and saw that it looked as fresh as it had yesterday.

  “Kind of old,” my ass, she thought crossly. It smelled good and Riley realized she was hungry.

  She got a glass of water, a plate, and some utensils, and sat down at the table. While she ate, she took out her notebook and looked the poem she and John had written together. She noticed two lines in particular …

  … sparkling waters, calm and still,

  And blurs of white and gray.

  It’s really quite pretty, she thought.

  Of course, she had to give John credit for any qualities it might have as a poem. He really was a sensitive, intelligent, and imaginative guy—and more talented with words than he probably realized.

  But as she read the rest of the poem now, that was all it seemed to be …

  Pretty.

  The idea that anyone could use it to bait the killer now struck her as farfetched and silly. Not that she and John had ever been serious about that. It was only an “exercise,” after all. But at least it had been fun to write.

  She was still sitting there, nibbling at her dinner and reading through the poem again, when she heard the apartment door open. Ryan came in, carrying a bag from a fast food place. As soon as she saw him, a strange feeling came over Riley.

  She felt positively nauseous, and her head hurt.

  What’s the matter with me? she wondered.

  Ryan looked at Riley with surprise as he closed the door behind him.

  “You’re home sooner than I expected,” he said. “But I did bring two burgers.”

  Riley shrugged, trying to ignore the pain.

  “I’ve already eaten,” she said. “I took a cab home.”

  Ryan squinted with disapproval as he plunked the bag on the table.

  “A cab?” he said. “Not the metro? How much did you spend tonight, anyway?”

  Riley frowned. She wanted to say …

  “Is it any of your business?”

  But of course, they were poor, and it was a natural thing for him to worry about.

  “I hardly spent anything,” she said. “I left a tip on the table of the bar when we left, that was all.”

  She saw Ryan’s expression darken, and she immediately knew why.

  I said “we.”

  And now Ryan wasn’t just irritable. He was suspicious and jealous as well.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Abruptly, Ryan sat down at the table with Riley. His eyes were full of suspicion.

  He thinks I’m cheating on him, she realized.

  And she was feeling too sick to explain to him why he was wrong. She pushed away her plate with the remains of tuna and pasta.

  In a tight voice Ryan said slowly, “So you didn’t spend anything on food or drinks or even the cab home?”

  Rile
y sighed and said, “Look, a friend paid for my drinks and food this evening. We shared a ride home in the cab, and he paid for that too.”

  Ryan was glaring at her now. He still hadn’t opened his bag of food.

  Meanwhile, Riley’s stomach was cramping badly, and a splitting headache seemed to be underway.

  Was she coming down with the flu all of a sudden?

  Had something been wrong with those chicken wings back at King Tut’s?

  Or was she wrong about the tuna and pasta still being fresh?

  Or was she just so upset that it was making her sick?

  Feeling plenty irritated herself now, Riley said …

  “It was a guy, OK? It wasn’t a date, and I’m not involved with him or attracted to him or anything like that. He’s another intern in the summer program. We’re just friends.”

  The words jarred as she said them …

  Just friends.

  The word “just” hardly seemed right.

  Tonight a little friendship had seemed like a huge and important thing.

  But she didn’t want to try to explain that to Ryan now. Things were bad enough already.

  Riley pointed to the bag on the table. “Your food is getting cold.”

  Ryan ignored her and left the bag untouched. He sat staring into space for a long moment. Finally said, “Riley, we’ve really got to talk. What’s going on with us?”

  Riley almost had to bite her tongue to keep from saying …

  “I sure as hell don’t know.”

  Instead she managed to keep silent.

  Sounding like he was trying to keep his own anger under control, Ryan said, “A few days ago I asked you to marry me. I gave you a ring. You seemed happy. But ever since then I’ve felt like you were digging in your heels.”

  “I’m not digging in my heels,” Riley said.

  “Then why can’t we set a date?” Ryan asked. “Why can’t we set any plans?”

  Riley was feeling more physically ill with each passing moment.

  It wasn’t helping her mood.

  She could no longer keep her bitterness and resentment out of her voice.

  She said, “Look, just yesterday you admitted why you were in such a hurry about the wedding. You’re embarrassed. You don’t want your parents to see that I was pregnant.”

  Ryan gasped.