by Blake Pierce
“I’m trying to reach Riley Paige. Who is this?”
“Bill Jeffreys here. Riley isn’t available at the moment.”
“What do you mean, not available?”
“Just what I said,” Bill said.
Bill heard a growl of disapproval.
Then Walder said, “Listen, I got a call from Deputy Chief Cullen of the railroad police a while ago, and he said Paige has gone off her rocker and is determined to pull some kind of cockamamie stakeout even though you’ve already got the killer in custody and—”
Bill interrupted, “It’s over, Chief Walder. The stakeout, I mean. We came up empty.”
Walder growled again.
“OK, then. I hear that Agent Roston is also on Paige’s team. I want the FBI plane back here in Quantico tonight, with the three of you on it.”
“Should we report to you when we get there?” Bill asked.
“No, damn it. I don’t even want to talk to any of you—not yet, anyway. I’ve got to take some kind of disciplinary action against Agent Paige—and from what Cullen told me, against Agent Roston as well. It’s sounds like Roston is a serious loose cannon, following right along in Paige’s footsteps. I haven’t decided what to do yet. Just take a couple of days off, all three of you. That’s an order.”
Walder abruptly ended the call.
Bill shook his head and thought …
He’s mad enough already. Wait till he sees what the media’s going to do with this.
He handed the phone back to Riley and said, “It’s really over, Riley. Walder’s making this personal, and we can’t buck his orders. We’ve got to fly back to Quantico. Right now. Come on, let’s get a ride back to Dermott. I’ll call the pilot on the way.”
Riley nodded silently. As they both walked toward the car they’d arrived in, Bill remembered what he’d said to Riley just a moment ago …
“In all likelihood, Timothy Pollitt really is the killer.”
For some reason, he really wished he hadn’t said that.
Deep down, his own instincts were starting to nag him, telling him …
This really isn’t over.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
As the FBI plane flew back toward Quantico, Jenn wished she could talk to either Riley or Agent Jeffreys. The flight seemed interminable, and the monotonous drone of the engine wasn’t helping her spirits. She doubted that it was making her two partners feel any better either.
It made Jenn uncomfortable that Riley was sitting behind her, alone in the back of the plane, obviously brooding over the terrible blunder of the failed stakeout.
Agent Jeffreys was across the aisle from Jenn, staring out the window. He’d had little to say since they’d boarded the plane.
Are they angry with me? Jenn wondered.
She told herself that was a self-centered sort of worry, but she still couldn’t help but wonder.
After all, her own clash with Bull Cullen hadn’t helped the case go smoothly.
She seriously wished she’d found some more dignified means of dealing with him—something other than punching him in the nose.
Maybe she could have simply brushed him off and filed a complaint at an appropriate time.
Then she thought …
Stop doing this to yourself.
Cullen himself had been the real problem. And she was certain that he’d been a problem long before she met him.
Although Jenn hadn’t been an agent for very long, she already knew about some of the pitfalls of being a female agent. One of those was accepting inappropriate responsibility for the actions of others—especially men.
It really was Cullen’s fault, she told herself. It’s not mine.
Surely Jenn wasn’t the only woman who had felt his unwelcome hands wandering across her body. She knew perfectly well that it would have gotten worse if she’d just let it go—the same as it had surely gotten worse for other women in the past, and would for more women in the future.
Jenn decided to file a complaint the next chance she got. It was time someone called the man on his behavior.
Not that her decision made her feel any better.
Other worries kept crowding into her mind. She remembered what she’d said to Riley over the phone just before this case had started …
“Maybe I should just turn in my badge.”
It had only been two days ago, on Saturday, but it seemed much longer. At the time, Jenn had just gotten a vaguely threatening phone call from Aunt Cora. Jenn had convinced herself she could ignore the lurking figure from her past.
And yet …
It was as though Aunt Cora was still pulling and tugging at her.
Jenn realized that pull was because of this very case, and how unfinished it seemed, and how hard Jenn knew it must be on Riley.
Because the truth was …
Aunt Cora could help.
It was a chilling thought—but true.
The woman’s criminal tendrils were everywhere, and she had access to information that even the FBI couldn’t dream of.
If there still was a killer out there, Aunt Cora could help find him.
Jenn took her cell phone out of the pocket and stared at it.
She’s just a text message away, she thought.
Maybe she could get Aunt Cora’s help without either Riley or Agent Jeffreys ever being the wiser.
Maybe there would be no consequences—this time.
But Jenn felt a shudder of realization …
This is exactly what Aunt Cora wants. For me to need her help—and to accept her help.
Once Jenn let that happen, she would again be in debt to Aunt Cora.
Jenn put the phone back in her pocket.
Maybe she could sleep a little during the rest of the flight.
But she doubted it.
*
Riley sat staring out the cabin window thinking about how much she hated certain aspects of flying. The landscape far below always seemed to creep by at a snail’s pace, as if the plane were barely going anywhere.
Not that she really looked forward to landing. She didn’t feel ready to face whatever she might be returning to.
Not at BAU and not even at home.
She smiled a little at the thought …
By the time I’m ready to face the world, the plane will run out of fuel.
The flight seemed especially torturous today, given what had just happened …
… or rather what hadn’t happened.
The same question had been rattling through Riley’s brain ever since they’d flown out of Dermott.
What went wrong?
Riley had suffered setbacks and even failures before, but in the past she’d at least been able to make sense of them.
This time, she couldn’t seem to get a rational grip on things.
Even after the freight train had gone by without incident, she’d kept right on thinking …
I was right.
And she wasn’t the only one who was right.
So was Mason Eggers. At the very least, she had the overwhelming feeling that Eggers understood the case.
And she still couldn’t help telling herself.
We were right.
We were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but even so …
… we were right.
It was a weird paradox, and she couldn’t get her mind around it.
She also kept thinking …
Poor Eggers.
She remembered how broken and defeated he’d looked the last time she’d seen him, when he was getting into Dillard’s SUV for the drive back to Chicago.
The man’s confidence had been shaky to enough to begin with, and Riley kept thinking about something he’d said.
“Maybe I’d do the world more good if I just gave up this kind of work and took up fishing.”
Now he surely felt that he had no other choice.
But was life in retirement, fishing his remaining years away, even possible for a lonely old railroad cop like Mason Eggers?
She felt certain of one thing—the failure of the stakeout was going to be even harder on Eggers than it was on her. She doubted that he’d ever recover from it.
As for herself, she was surely due for a reprimand at the very least. A suspension seemed more likely. She’d already thanked Bill for taking that call from Carl Walder, buffering her against that toady-in-charge’s newly kindled rage.
According to Bill, Walder wanted nothing to do with Riley or her team for another couple of days, which at least gave them a temporary reprieve.
The plane lurched a little, and Riley noticed a change in the cabin pressure. The pilot announced their descent toward the Quantico airstrip.
Soon Riley would be home, dealing with a whole different set of problems.
The most daunting would surely be Jilly, who must still be mad at her.
Mad and hurt, Riley thought.
And no doubt about it, Jilly had good reason to feel both mad and hurt.
Riley wondered if maybe, when she drove home from Quantico, she should stop somewhere and buy Jilly a belated birthday present.
But no, whatever gift she might find in such a rush simply wouldn’t do. It would seem lame and perfunctory, and it would probably make Jilly only feel worse than she already did.
Riley needed to talk to Jilly face to face, do or say whatever it would take to make amends.
And it wasn’t going to be easy.
Through her window Riley could see the buildings of the Quantico facility getting larger by the second.
The case she and her colleagues had left behind seemed a long distance off indeed—far away, but anything but solved.
Deep down in her gut, she felt absolutely sure of one thing:
Timothy Pollitt was not the killer.
Whoever the real killer was, he was surely planning his next murder.
And there wasn’t a damn thing Riley could do about it.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
As soon as she got off the plane, Riley sent a text message to April saying she was on her way home from Quantico. So when Riley pulled up to her townhouse, she knew that her arrival wouldn’t be unexpected.
The trouble was—what should she expect?
Was Jilly still angry with her?
Did Riley have whatever it took to be the good mom and work everything out?
When she walked through the front door, April was right there to meet her.
Riley put down her bag and returned her daughter’s big hug.
Then April wasted no time getting to the point.
“Jilly’s in the family room. You should go talk to her.”
Just as she had been on the phone, April sounded remarkably calm and grown up.
I guess that’s what I’ve got to be too right now, Riley thought, fully aware of the irony of the situation.
As Riley walked through the house, she noticed a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. Riley was curious about what Gabriela might be making, but now was no time to stop and ask.
Riley felt a swell of sadness as she reached the family room. After all, this was where Liam had slept during his short time as a member of the family. And now he was gone.
Jilly was sitting at a table, quietly working on some pages of algebra problems.
Riley sat down facing her.
“Jilly, we’ve got to talk. I—”
Jilly interrupted, looking up from her homework, “No, stop, Mom. Just stop. I’ve got something to say first.”
Riley gulped hard. It sounded like this might be even worse than she’d expected.
Jilly looked her directly in the eyes for a moment.
Then she said, “I’m sorry.”
Riley felt as though she’d been pushed into a cold shower of sheer confusion.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” Jilly repeated.
Riley shook her head.
“No, Jilly, no. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s me. I was wrong. I forgot your birthday. I—”
Jilly interrupted her again.
“Just tell me what you’ve been doing. Since you’ve been gone, I mean. All about the case.”
Riley sighed and shrugged.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter …”
“Just tell me.”
Why does she want to know? Riley wondered.
Jilly certainly seemed sincere about it.
So Riley started telling her younger daughter about everything that had happened, starting with the phone call from Meredith on Saturday. When she started describing the first crime scene, Jilly stopped her again.
“Give me all the details. I want to know what that poor woman looked like.”
“Oh, Jilly, I don’t know.”
“Please. I really, really want to know.”
Riley paused for a moment. Was this some kind of morbid, adolescent curiosity on Jilly’s part? No. Riley could tell by her face and her voice that Jilly really wanted to understand the whole thing—and how Riley herself had felt having to deal with it.
So Riley went ahead and told her all about it, sparing no details—not even from herself.
It was a strange experience, not at all like filling out some formal report—which Riley reminded herself that she still needed to do. This was personal and deep. She was sharing a dark, troubling part of her life that she’d become all too used to keeping private, hidden from everybody except Bill and an occasional therapist. And a curious realization came over her.
I need this.
She’d spent too many years keeping these terrible experiences to herself.
It had been harder on her than she’d realized.
But was this the right thing to do—sharing such horrors with a girl who had just turned fourteen?
But as Jilly kept listening with intense interest, Riley realized something else. Jilly had experienced her own horrors—a childhood so terrible that she’d almost sold her body to escape from it. Jilly was surely better equipped emotionally to deal with the shocking facts of Riley’s work than most adults were.
As Riley got to the part about the ill-fated stakeout, she felt her own frustrations rising again over leaving the case unsolved. But strangely, it felt good to give voice to those frustrations—something she hadn’t even done with Bill or Jenn.
Riley finished her story, and Jilly sat looking at her for a silent moment.
Then Jilly smiled and said, “Thanks, Mom. That’s the best birthday present I could possibly want. And I’m really sorry I made a fuss about things. I shouldn’t have given you something so stupid to worry about when you were dealing with something so important. And anyway, I had a really nice party.”
Riley was stunned. She simply didn’t know what to say.
Jilly tilted her head a little.
She said, “You really don’t get it, do you, Mom? I’ve never in my whole life had anyone to look up to, someone I wanted to grow up to be like. This is a huge change for me. It means more to me than you can imagine.”
Riley’s throat tightened and her eyes started to fill.
Jilly said, “Don’t cry, Mom. Crying’s for wusses.”
Riley brushed away a tear and laughed a little. It felt good to hear Jilly sound like an ordinary teenager again.
Riley said, “Well, no matter what you say, talking about murder and mayhem is not a proper birthday present. I’ll make it up to you somehow. We’ll do something together soon, just the two of us. I promise.”
Jilly looked pleased.
“OK, Mom,” she said. And maybe someday I’ll have something so important to do in my life that I’ll forget your birthday.”
Riley laughed a little.
“Then I guess we’ll be even,” she said. “But I hope it will be something pleasant.”
“Oh, and another thing,” Jilly said. “You’re still going to solve that case. I just know it.”
Riley felt herself tear up all over again. Jilly seemed so sure about it.
> She wished she felt the same way.
At that moment April poked her head into the family room a bit cautiously. She took a look at Riley and Jilly, then said, “Gabriela’s got some treats for everybody. Is that OK?”
“Come on in,” Riley said.
April came inside, followed by Gabriela, who was carrying a tray full of freshly baked empanadas de leche—a custard-filled Guatemalan pastry.
“I heard you were coming home,” Gabriela said. “I can heat up dinner leftovers if you’re hungry.”
“Just these will be wonderful,” Riley replied. “Muchas gracias.”
As everybody settled down to enjoy the delicious empanadas, April said to Riley …
“Blaine called yesterday. I guess he wanted to know how the case was going and when you’d be back.”
Riley felt a bit jolted at the sound of Blaine’s name. She’d sent him a brief text during the flight out to Illinois, and he’d texted back wishing her luck. The truth was, she hadn’t given a thought about him since.
Strange, she thought.
She’d not only forgotten Jilly’s birthday—she’d forgotten about her boyfriend.
It was definitely time to settle back down into ordinary life.
*
After the snacks were eaten, Gabriela went down to her apartment and the girls scattered to their own rooms for bed.
Riley was glad to go to her room alone. She was tired from the long awful day, but she did want to touch base with Blaine.
She typed a text in her cell phone …
Hi Blaine—
Solved the case and I’m home.
It’d be nice to see U.
When can we get together?
It was fairly late, so Riley hardly expected a reply until the next morning.
But within seconds the text was marked “read,” and Blaine replied …
How about tomorrow?
I’ll call you in the morning.
Riley smiled.
Sounds great!
Feeling a bit like a schoolgirl, she put “<3” next to her message—a little heart.
She had hardy set her cell phone down when her house phone rang.
When Riley answered it, she heard a woman’s voice.