by Blake Pierce
“Not now, John. Not a good time, I’m afraid.”
She turned her cell phone off without taking the call, put it back in her pocket, and continued on her way. She felt a bit annoyed by the call. She hadn’t seen or heard from John all day long. Why did he have to pick right now to get in touch with her?
This morning Riley had heard that John had already left the building. He and his group were attending in a special technician training class, learning to identify components of exploded bombs. They were actually spending the whole day out in the countryside watching bombs blow up, then examining whatever was left of them.
It had sounded like fun to Riley, and she’d been sorry to miss it. Instead, she’d put in a slog of a day, listening to a lecture about analyzing crime data and attending a couple of long workshops, one of them dealing with warrants and other legal issues.
Or as Crivaro had called it …
Regular nuts and bolts stuff.
It had been hard concentrating on such mundane matters, all the while contemplating whether she was really going through with her self-assigned task at the end of the day.
But what choice did she have?
The poem had appeared in the paper, just as the editor had promised.
The killer was either going to notice it or not notice it.
Wasn’t it up to her to find out one way or the other?
Ryan had unintentionally helped Riley make up her mind to do this. When her classes ended, he’d called to say he’d be working again at the office well into the evening. Riley had told him she’d be going out later herself. Ryan had assumed she meant she’d be socializing again, and Riley hadn’t said anything to correct that assumption.
If he knew, he’d kill me, Riley thought as she passed by the familiar statue of the metal birds flying over an ocean wave.
Crivaro would kill me too, she thought.
But as she continued on her way toward the LBJ Memorial Grove Monolith, she assured herself that she’d thought things through quite thoroughly.
All she wanted was to get a good look at the killer so she could identify him. And she would call the police right away.
She wasn’t going to put herself in danger, much less try to apprehend him …
If he shows up at all.
And of course, there were no guarantees of that happening.
As she continued on through the grove of pine and dogwood trees, she noticed that people were walking the other way, heading out of the park. Soon the park would be fairly deserted for the evening, just as it had been when she’d come here before …
… and just like it was when Janet Davis was abducted.
At last she approached the marina, where the waning daylight was glittering on the water’s surface. When she’d been here before, she’d noticed a nook in the side of one of the wooden boathouses. She found the place she was looking for and stepped inside.
Sure enough, the nook gave her a clear view of the marina, even though she herself was pretty well hidden from view.
And now …
All I have to do is wait.
The trick would be to stay out of sight when he showed up.
Or maybe she’d be really lucky and …
He won’t show at all.
She found herself more than half-hoping things would work out that way.
Then she could go home satisfied with her modest effort and never have to explain anything to Crivaro or anybody else.
*
Clever girl, Joey thought as he peeked through the leaves of a bush. He’d watched the girl approach the nearby boathouse. Now she was hiding in a little nook there, some fifty feet away from where he was crouching.
It had to be the one who had signed the name Tina D. Vejas. He’d quickly figured out that the name was an anagram for Janet Davis.
Now he could see that she hadn’t meant to meet him after all.
She was just trying to check him out.
All she wanted was a good look at him.
Joey wasn’t the least bit disappointed. The girl was a trickster, just like himself. She was going to suit him well, once he had her in his thrall.
Of course, she was about to learn an important lesson …
Never try to trick a trickster.
He’d spent the whole day wavering about whether to come here, whether to answer the invitation in the newspaper.
He couldn’t ignore the possibility that it might be a police trap.
But as he read and reread the poem, he became convinced otherwise.
He felt sure that she wasn’t working with the police. The message seemed too intimate, too personal. This was a private affair for her. She rightly sensed her kinship with him.
He thought about those lines …
I let my lens slip from my hand
My shaking was to blame …
He wondered—how had she known that had happened here on the marina well over a week ago?
How did she know about Janet, the girl he’d snatched up while she’d been taking pictures here?
She’s quite the little detective, he thought.
In a little while, he’d have a chance to ask her about all that.
Meanwhile, he felt a pang of sadness at the sight of that remarkable young creature in those jeans and that blouse, her face so plain and dry and ghostlike. The same as he was at this very moment, she was wearing a costume, trying to fit into a world where she didn’t really belong.
And she didn’t even know it.
Oh, when I’m able to teach her who she really is!
How wonderful that was going to be!
He was sure that this one would be strong enough to come through his test.
This one definitely belonged in his own world of wild color and merriment—a world of garish paint and red noses and billowy clothes, of horns and bells and fake flowers that squirted water in people’s faces.
Maybe the other girl belonged with him too—the one he had spared for a time and left alive back in that cage.
If things had gone as planned, he’d have subjected her to his test by now.
If she’d failed to survive, he’d have left her body in a chosen place.
All that was on hold now. But he would test them both, and maybe both would pass this time. He always hoped his captives would survive.
He almost laughed aloud as he thought …
Two of them! Imagine that!
He’d never in his life dared to dream of such companionship.
Meanwhile, dusk was deepening. The girl in the nook was looking at her watch. She must be beginning to think he was going to miss their appointment.
He fingered the short piece of steel pipe he’d used to knock out the other girls. He fought down a powerful urge to take advantage of this girl’s unwariness, spring out of his crouched concealment right now, charge toward her like a beast of prey, and render her unconscious with a single swift blow.
Patience, he told himself.
The trick was to have just a little more patience than she did.
*
Riley sighed deeply as the sky grew darker and the water surrounding the docks sparkled less in the waning light.
Wait just a few more minutes, she told herself.
But with every passing moment, she became surer that the killer wasn’t going to appear.
Had he even noticed the poem in the newspaper?
How could he have helped but notice it?
So why isn’t he here?
She remembered something John had said when they’d started writing the poem …
“Won’t he expect the police to be waiting for him there?”
Riley had wanted to believe they’d come up with such a tantalizing riddle that the killer would feel compelled to take that risk.
Apparently they had failed.
If the killer had noticed the poem, he was no fool. He’d known better than to come anywhere near here this evening.
Meanwhile, Riley’s head started to flood
with new worries …
If he saw the poem but didn’t respond …
Might she have caused further problems without meaning to?
Now the killer must realize that someone else knew how and where he had abducted Janet in the first place—presumably the police.
And of course, he’d be right.
She knew that Crivaro had been doing his best to keep any details about the killings away from the public. Surely the last thing he’d want would be to tip his hand to the killer himself.
What have I done? Riley wondered miserably.
Maybe she needed to tell Crivaro the truth about her poem.
If so, she knew he’d be beyond furious. She murmured aloud to herself …
“He’s got every right to be.”
Anyway, she was sure she was wasting time hanging around here. She stepped out of the nook and was starting to walk away from the marina when she heard a flurry of footsteps and caught a flash of movement in her peripheral vision.
She whirled around in time to see a man taking a swing at her with a length of pipe. She tried to duck, but the blow glanced across her head, stunning her and throwing her off balance.
Her assailant was fast and strong.
In another instant, he had pinned her on her back on the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Riley lay pinned on her back, feeling helpless. She wanted to strike the man with her fists or lift her knee into his groin, but she was immobilized.
He was tall and wiry and strong, and he seemed to be made out of arms and legs. He had both of her legs pinned under his knees, and with one large hand he was holding both of her wrists onto the ground above her head. In his free hand, he still held the length of pipe.
Riley cringed for fear of another blow to her head.
But instead of striking, he shoved the pipe in a pocket and waved something else in front of her face.
With a snapping sound, a blade flashed out, gleaming bright and sharp even in the dusky light.
“I could do it right now,” he said breathlessly. “I could make you look like your true self. You’ve never seen what you really look like, but I swear, I’m not going to let you go until I can show you.”
Riley lay there absolutely petrified.
Her captor tilted his head curiously and said, “It doesn’t have to be painful like this. I don’t have to do it with a knife. I can do it back in the labyrinth—paint your face without cutting it, give you your true face at last. Just stop fighting. Come with me.”
The labyrinth! Riley thought.
She still had no idea where or what the labyrinth was, but she wasn’t going to let him take her there.
She spit in his face.
He drew sharply back, and his face reddened with rage. As he swung his knife she wrenched her body to one side, but she felt the sting of the blade grazing her shoulder.
Then she heard a different voice yell out …
“Riley!”
Suddenly she was free from her assailant. Riley looked up and saw two men tangled in each other’s arms. One, of course, was the killer.
The other was John Welch. He had pulled the killer away from her.
Riley called out …
“John, be careful! Don’t try to—”
Just then the killer gave John a mighty shove to his chest, sending him toppling awkwardly backward. As John fell, the killer started to run away, but then he turned back and yelled at Riley …
“You’re making a mistake. You think he’s your friend, but he’s not. You have no friends. Everybody hates you. They’ll forget you. They’ll abandon you. Everyone in your world. You’ll be lost. I know.”
He inhaled sharply and shouted …
“I’m the only one in the world who knows … who you really are.”
He took off running again toward the parking lot. Through the trees, Riley could glimpse him climbing into an old car and driving away.
Meanwhile, John had climbed to his feet and was helping Riley get up.
He said, “Jesus, Riley. It looks like he clipped you on the head. And he cut your shoulder.”
Riley’s shoulder stung, but when she touched it she felt only a little blood.
“I’ll be fine,” Riley said.
But as she tried to stand, she toppled against John.
John helped her over to a nearby bench and got her seated.
“Relax,” he said. “Put your head down. It’ll help with the dizziness.”
Riley obeyed and felt the blood flowing back into her head. She heard John jabbering on the phone a short distance away. Riley guessed that he was calling either the police or the FBI.
“I need help,” she heard him saying. “A friend of mine has been attacked—by the Clown Killer, I think. Her name is Riley Sweeney. She’s hurt but not badly. We’re at the marina in Lady Bird Johnson Park.”
Then he came back and sat down beside her.
She lifted her head, feeling less dizzy now. She stammered …
“How did you … know … ?”
John put his arm around her shoulder and said, “Damn it, Riley, I’d like to throttle you. I bought a newspaper when my group got back from the explosives class. When I saw the poem I knew what you were up to, and I drove right here. What the hell’s the matter with you? I thought we both agreed it was just an exercise. Just something we were doing for fun.”
“I’m sorry,” Riley murmured pitifully. “I was wrong.”
“You sure as hell were,” John said.
They sat together in silence for a moment. Then John got up and walked out onto a dock, where he paced up and down with agitation.
Riley’s mind boggled at how bad things suddenly were. And there was no question about it—it was all her fault and no one else’s.
It was going to take a long time to undo the damage she’d done, but she needed to get started right now.
And before she did anything else, she needed start putting things right with Ryan.
No more secrets, she told herself.
She took out her cell phone and punched in his number.
When he answered, she couldn’t keep her voice from breaking with emotion.
“Ryan, I … something bad has happened, and I …”
A sob broke through her throat.
Ryan shouted, “Riley! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Ryan, but … I need for you to come and pick me up. Right now.”
She gave him directions to the marina parking lot and ended the call without further explanation.
How can I begin explaining? she wondered.
It wasn’t going to be easy.
Meanwhile, she heard the sound of approaching sirens, and several vehicles pulled into the parking lot. Soon a group of men came striding from their parked vehicles toward the marina. One of them was carrying a first aid kit.
In front of them all was Jake Crivaro.
Riley gulped hard, dreading Crivaro’s wrath.
But she knew she shouldn’t be surprised that he was here. On the phone, John had mentioned the Clown Killer and had also given Riley’s name. It was no wonder that Crivaro had been alerted right away.
As the cop with the first aid kit started tending to Riley’s two small injuries, Crivaro walked up to the bench and stood in front of Riley, staring at her with a fierce expression.
“What happened?” he asked her.
Riley shook her head miserably.
“He was here just now,” she said. “The Clown Killer. He attacked me, but John pulled him off. Then he drove away—I didn’t get a good look at his car, but it looked pretty old, like maybe from the seventies.”
Crivaro crossed his arms and asked …
“And just how did you and the killer happen to wind up being here at the same time?”
Riley stifled a moan of despair. As she started to tell the whole story, she saw that John was now standing nearby listening. Her first impulse was to try not to mention John’s involvement in the incid
ent. She didn’t want to get the poor guy in trouble.
But she quickly realized …
John didn’t do anything wrong.
Not the slightest thing.
She was the one who had told John too much about the case. Nobody had forced her to do that, least of all John himself. And she’d led him to believe that writing the poem wasn’t going to lead to any trouble.
None of this was John’s fault. She could tell the whole truth without getting him in trouble.
As Riley explained everything as well as she could, Crivaro’s face tightened with rage.
He seemed to be struggling for control as he asked, “Can you even give me a description of the man?”
Riley thought back. She’d been so shocked by his attack, so focused on fighting her way free of him …
Then she said weakly, “Not a very good one.”
Crivaro just stared at her for a long moment.
Finally he said …
“You’re through, Sweeney.”
“I’m off the case?” she asked.
“You’re off the case. You’re out of the intern program. I don’t want to see you around the Hoover Building ever again. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
Crivaro turned to John.
“What about you?” he snapped.
They walked away together, and Riley could tell that John must be giving Crivaro a description of the killer, something she hadn’t had wits enough to do. She was glad that someone had sense enough to do that, but her own failure overwhelmed her.
Crivaro gave John a pat on the arm and then started giving orders to the other cops and agents about examining the area.
Riley fell apart completely, collapsing into uncontrollable sobs. John sat down next to her again and held her hand as Riley hung her head and wept.
After a while she heard Ryan’s voice call out …
“Riley! What happened? Are you all right?”
Riley looked up and saw Ryan coming toward her. Then she noticed how his expression seemed to darken with anger.
She quickly realized …
John’s holding my hand.
Riley carefully removed her hand from John’s.
Ryan glared at John and said, “Who the hell are you? What did you have to do with this? And what is this anyhow?”