by Blake Pierce
And Ryan would be perfectly happy with me.
But she doubted that she would be happy. She hadn’t felt passionate about pursuing any career until the possibility of being an FBI agent came up—even if she did feel like this career had chosen her, not the other way around.
When the three rows of interns were properly posed, Hoke Gilmer told a joke to make everybody laugh while the photographer snapped their picture. Riley didn’t feel in a humorous mood, so the joke didn’t strike her as funny. She was sure that her own smile looked forced and insincere.
She also felt insecure about her own pantsuit, which she’d bought months ago at a thrift shop. Most of the other interns were better off financially than she was, and markedly better dressed. She didn’t look forward to seeing the photo that was being taken.
Then the group broke up to enjoy the snacks and refreshments arranged on another table in the middle of the room. Everybody clustered into groups of friends, and as usual, Riley felt isolated.
She noticed that Natalie Embry was clinging to Rollin Sloan, an intern who was headed straight for a high-paying job as a data analyst in a big Midwestern field office.
Riley heard a voice at her side …
“Well, Natalie sure got what she came here for, didn’t she?”
Riley turned and saw John Welch standing beside her.
She smiled and said, “Come on, John. Aren’t you being a bit cynical?”
John shrugged and said, “Are you telling me I’m wrong?”
Riley looked again at Natalie, who was flashing her new engagement ring at someone.
“No, I guess not,” Riley said to John.
Natalie had been showing off that ring to everybody ever since Rollin had put it on her finger a couple of days ago. It had been a real whirlwind romance—she and Rollin hadn’t even met before entering the summer program.
John let out a sigh of mock sympathy.
“Poor Rollin,” he said. “There but for the grace of God go I.”
Riley laughed aloud. She knew exactly what John meant. Starting on the very first day of the program, Natalie had been on the lookout for a prospective fiancée. She’d even targeted John until he’d made it clear that he really didn’t like her.
Riley wondered—had Natalie ever been interested in the program at all? After all, she’d been smart enough and accomplished enough to be accepted into the honors internship.
Probably not, she figured.
Natalie seemed to have joined the program for the same reason that some of Riley’s friends had gone to college—to catch herself a successful husband.
Riley tried to imagine how it would feel to go through life with Natalie’s priorities. Things would surely seem simpler, at least, when decisions could be so clear-cut…
Finding a man, moving into a nice house, having a few babies …
Riley couldn’t help envy Natalie’s security, at least.
Even so, Riley felt sure she’d be bored to death by such a life—which was exactly why things were bad between her and Ryan right now.
Then John said, “I assume you’re heading straight to Quantico when this is over.”
Riley replied, “Yeah. I guess you are too, right?”
John nodded. Riley found it exciting to think that she and John were among the small handful of interns who were continuing on to the FBI Academy.
Most of the rest of them looked forward to other possibilities. Some would be going to graduate school in fields that had caught their interest this summer. Others would be starting new jobs in labs or offices right here in the Hoover Building or at Agency headquarters in other cities. They could begin FBI careers as computer scientists, data analysts, technicians—jobs that offered regular hours and didn’t lead to life-threatening situations.
Jobs that Ryan would approve of, Riley thought wistfully.
Riley almost asked John how he was going to get to Quantico today. But of course she knew—he was going to drive there in his expensive car. Riley briefly considered asking him for a ride. After all, it would save her money for both a taxi and a train ticket.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She didn’t want to admit to him that Ryan wasn’t even going to drive her to the train station. John was a sharp guy, and he’d surely sense that things weren’t right between her and Ryan. She’d rather he not know about that—at least not right now.
As she and John continued chatting, Riley couldn’t help notice yet again how attractive he was—rugged and athletic, with short curly hair and pleasant smile.
He was well-off and wore an expensive suit, but Riley didn’t hold his wealth and privilege against him. His parents were both prominent DC lawyers who were heavily involved in politics, and Riley admired John’s choice of a humbler life of dedicated service to law enforcement.
He was a good guy, a true idealist, and she liked him very much. They’d actually worked together to crack the Clown Killer case, covertly communicating with the riddling killer to draw him out of hiding.
Standing close to him and enjoying his smile and their conversation, Riley found herself wondering how their friendship might grow at the Academy.
They were definitely going to be spending a lot of time together …
And I’m going to be far away from Ryan …
She cautioned herself not to let her imagination run away with her. For one thing, the problems she was having with Ryan were probably only temporary. Maybe all they needed was some time apart to remind them of why they’d fallen in love in the first place.
Finally the interns finished eating and started to leave. John waved to Riley on his way out, and she smiled and waved back. Still clinging to Rollin, Natalie kept flashing her ring around all the way through the door.
Riley said goodbye to Hoke Gilmer, the training supervisor, and Assistant Director Marion Connor, both of whom had given short congratulatory speeches to the whole group a little while ago. Then she left the reception room and went to the locker room to get her suitcase.
She found herself alone in the big, empty locker room. She looked around wistfully. The room was where all the interns had gathered for meetings during the summer. She doubted that she’d ever be here again.
Would she miss the program? She wasn’t sure. She’d learned a lot here, and she’d enjoyed much of her intern experience. But she knew it was definitely time for her to move on.
So why do I feel sad? she wondered.
She quickly realized it was because of how she’d left things with Ryan. She remembered her own sharp words to him last night before she’d gone to bed …
“Enjoy the rest of your meal. There’s some cheesecake in the refrigerator. I’m tired. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”
They hadn’t spoken since that moment. Ryan had gotten up and left for work before Riley had even awoken this morning.
She wished she hadn’t spoken to him like that. But what choice had he given her? He hadn’t shown a lot of sensitivity to her feelings—to her hopes and dreams.
The weight of her engagement ring felt strange on her finger. She held her hand in front of her face and looked at it. As the modest but lovely gem sparkled under the fluorescent ceiling light, she remembered the sweet moment when Ryan had knelt shyly to propose to her.
That seemed like a long time ago now.
And after their ugly parting, Riley wondered—were they even really engaged anymore? Was their relationship over? Had they broken up without actually saying so? Was it time for her to move on from Ryan, just like she was moving on from everything else? And was Ryan ready to move on from her?
For a moment, she toyed with the idea of not catching that cab and that train to Quantico—at least not right now. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for her to be a day late for classes. Maybe she could talk to Ryan again when he got home from work. Maybe they could put things right.
But she quickly realized …
If I go back to the apartment now, maybe I’ll never go to Quanti
co.
She shuddered at the idea.
Somehow, she knew that her destiny awaited her in Quantico, and she didn’t dare miss it.
It’s now or never, she thought.
She got her suitcase and headed on out of the building, then caught a cab to the train station.
CHAPTER FOUR
Guy Dafoe didn’t particularly like getting up so early in the morning. But at least these days he was working hard to take care of his own cattle rather than the herds he’d handled for other owners. Early morning chores seemed well worth the effort now.
The sun was rising, and he knew it was going to be a beautiful day. He loved the smell of the fields and the sounds of the cattle.
He’d spent years working bigger ranches and bigger herds. But this was his own land, his own animals. And he was feeding these animals right, not raising them artificially on grain and hormones. That was a waste of resources, and production-line cattle lived miserable lives. He felt good about what he was doing.
He’d plunged all his savings into buying this farm and a few cattle to start out with. He knew it was a big risk, but he had faith that there was a real future in sales of grass-fed beef. It was a growing market.
The yearling calves were clustered up around the barn, where he’d penned them up last night in order to check on their health and development. They watched him and mooed softly, as if waiting for him.
He was proud of his small herd of Black Angus, and sometimes he had to resist the temptation to become fond of them, as if they were pets. These were food animals, after all. It would be a bad idea to get very attached to any of them individually.
Today he wanted to turn the yearling calves into the roadside pasture. The field they were in now was eaten down short, and the good legume and grass pasture down by the road was ready for grazing.
Just as he swung wide gate open, he noticed something odd on the far side of the pasture. It looked like some kind of tangle or bundle over near the road.
He grumbled aloud …
“Whatever it is, it probably isn’t good.”
He slipped through the opening and pushed the gate shut again, leaving the yearlings where they were. He didn’t want to turn his stock into this field until he found out what that strange object was.
As he strode across the field, he grew more puzzled. It looked like a huge wad of barbed wire hanging from a fence post. Had a roll of the stuff bounced off of someone’s truck and wound up there somehow?
But as he walked closer to it, he saw that it wasn’t a new roll. It was a tangle of old wire, wrapped in all directions.
It didn’t make any sense.
When he reached the bundle and stared into it, he realized that something was inside.
He leaned toward it, peered closely, and felt a sudden cold chill of terror.
“Holy hell!” he yelled, jumping backward.
But maybe he was only imagining things. He forced himself to look again.
There it was—a woman’s face, pale and wounded, contorted in agony.
He grabbed the wire to pull it off her, but quickly stopped himself.
It’s no use, he realized. She’s dead.
He staggered over to next fencepost, leaned on it, and retched violently.
Pull yourself together, he told himself.
He had to call the police—right now.
He staggered away and broke into a run toward his house.
CHAPTER FIVE
Special Agent Jake Crivaro sat bolt upright when his office phone rang.
Things had been too quiet at Quantico since he got back yesterday.
Now his gut told him instantly …
It’s a new case.
Sure enough, as soon as he picked up the phone, he heard the sonorous voice of Special Agent in Charge Erik Lehl …
“Crivaro, I need you in my office right now.”
“Right away, sir,” Crivaro said.
He hung up the phone and grabbed his go bag, which he always kept at the ready. Agent Lehl was being even more laconic than usual, which surely meant urgent business. Crivaro was sure that he would be traveling somewhere soon—probably within the hour.
He felt his heart pumping just a little faster as he hurried down the hall. It was a good feeling. After a 10-week stint serving as a mentor for the FBI’s Honors Internship Program, this was a welcome return to normality.
During the first few days of the summer program he’d been pulled away by a murder case—the notorious “Clown Killer.” After that he’d settled in to the more mundane work of mentoring just one of the interns—a talented but exasperating kid named Riley Sweeney, who had shown startling brilliance helping him on the case.
Even so, the program had passed too slowly for his taste. He wasn’t used to spending such a long period out of the field.
When Jake walked into Lehl’s office, the lanky man rose up from his chair to greet him. Erik Lehl was so tall that he barely seemed to fit into any space he occupied. Other agents said that he looked like he was wearing stilts. He looked more to Jake as though he were made out of stilts—an awkwardly assembled assortment of lengths of lumber that somehow never seemed to be perfectly coordinated in their movements. But the man had been a crack agent and had earned his position at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.
“Don’t make yourself comfortable, Crivaro,” Lehl said. “You’re leaving right away.”
Jake obediently stayed on his feet.
Lehl looked at a manila folder that he was holding and heaved a grim sigh. Jake had long since observed Lehl’s tendency to take every case extremely seriously—even personally, as if he felt directly insulted by any sort of monstrous criminality.
Not surprisingly, Jake couldn’t remember ever finding Lehl in a cheerful mood.
After all …
Monsters are our business.
And Jake knew that Lehl wouldn’t be assigning him to this particular case if it weren’t unusually heinous. Jake was something of a specialist in cases that defied human imagination.
Lehl handed the manila folder to Jake and said, “We’ve got a really ugly situation in West Virginia. Have a look.”
Jake opened the folder and saw a black-and-white photo of a weird bundle held together by duct tape and barbed wire. The bundle was dangling against a fence post. It took a moment for Jake to realize that the bundle had a face and hands—that it was in fact a human being and obviously dead.
Jake inhaled sharply.
Even for him, this was a uniquely grisly sight.
Lehl explained, “The photo was taken about a month ago. The body of a beauty parlor worker named Alice Gibson was found bound up with barbed wire and hanging from a fence post on a rural road near Hyland, West Virginia.”
“Pretty nasty stuff,” Jake said. “How are the local cops handling it?”
“They have a suspect in custody,” Lehl said.
Jake’s eyes widened with surprise.
He asked, “So what makes this an FBI case?”
Lehl said, “We just got a call from the chief of police in Dighton, a town near Hyland. Another bundled-up body like this was found just this morning, hanging from a fence post on a road outside of town.”
Jake was starting to understand. Being in a jail cell at the time of the second murder gave the suspect a pretty good alibi. And now things looked like a serial killer was just getting started.
Lehl continued, “I’ve given orders that the current crime scene not be disturbed. So you need to get there ASAP. It would be a four-hour drive across the mountains, so I’ve got a helicopter waiting for you on the airstrip.”
Jake was just turning to leave the office when Lehl added …
“Do you want me to assign you a partner?”
Jake turned and looked at Lehl. Somehow, he hadn’t expected the question.
“I don’t need a partner,” Jake said. “But I’ll need a forensics team. The cops in rural West Virginia aren’t going to know how to get a good r
eading on the scene.”
Lehl nodded and said, “I’ll get the team together right now. They’ll fly out with you.”
Just as Jake was stepping out the door, Lehl said …
“Agent Crivaro, sooner or later you’re going to need another regular partner.”
Jake shrugged awkwardly and said, “If you say so, sir.”
With a hint of a growl in his voice, Lehl said. “I do say so. It’s about time for you to learn to play nice with others.”
Jake stared at him with surprise. It was rare for the taciturn Erik Lehl to say anything the least bit snide.
I guess he really means it, Jake realized.
Without another word, Jake left the office and headed through the building. As he walked briskly along, he thought about what Lehl had said about him getting a new partner. Jake was well-known for being tough to work with in the field. But he really didn’t think he gave anybody a hard time unless they deserved it.
His last regular partner, Gus Bollinger, had certainly deserved it. He’d gotten fired for smearing the fingerprints on a piece of vital evidence in the so-called “Matchbook Killer” case. As a consequence, the case had gone cold—and there was little that Jake hated more than cold cases.
On the Clown Killer case, Jake had worked with a DC agent named Mark McCune. McCune hadn’t been as bad as Bollinger, but he’d made stupid mistakes and thought too highly of himself for Jake’s taste. Jake was glad that their partnership had been only for that one case and that McCune remained in DC.
As he stepped onto the tarmac where the helicopter waited, he thought about someone else he’d worked with recently …
Riley Sweeney.
He’d been impressed with her ever since she’d been a psych student who had helped him solve a serial case at Lanton University. When she’d graduated, he’d pulled strings and stirred up the ire of some his colleagues to get her into the Honors Internship Program. Perhaps against his own better judgment, he’d enlisted her help on the Clown Killer case.