LURING

by Blake Pierce

  *

  Riley and Crivaro said little to each other during the rest of the drive back to Quantico. She couldn’t understand what had changed so much between them during the course of a single day. On the way to West Virginia, their conversation had been easy, relaxed, and more than friendly. Riley had spoken openly some troubling personal issues, and she’d thought that Crivaro had opened up to her as well.

  In fact, he’d almost been acting like the father she’d always wanted.

  But now …

  Riley sighed deeply.

  Now he seemed scarcely any different from her actual father—cold, bitter, angry, and silent.

  When Crivaro dropped her off at the dormitory, Riley stood staring at the building with her go-bag slung over her shoulder. It wasn’t very late, and she guessed that Frankie would be in their room studying. Riley felt as though she and Frankie had gotten surprisingly close during the short time they’d known each other.

  Maybe I can talk to her about today, Riley thought.

  But then she remembered the humiliating episode in Hogan’s Alley—how Frankie had conducted herself with professional poise while calling out to the hostage-taker over the bullhorn.

  Riley, by contrast, had rushed in where she wasn’t supposed to be, and the exercise had ended in disaster. Even Frankie had gotten “killed” in the resulting melee.

  Riley thought …

  Frankie’s got no reason to be sympathetic with me right now.

  Riley sat down on the building’s front steps with her bag at her side. The truth was, she didn’t feel a lot of sympathy for herself right now. She’d blown her fitness exam yesterday, had made a fool of herself in Hogan’s Alley, and …

  She really didn’t know what she’d done wrong in West Virginia to make Crivaro so angry. But maybe that was part of the problem …

  I’m making mistakes without even knowing it.

  She realized she couldn’t bring herself to go inside and face Frankie right now.

  She wasn’t sure whether she could face anybody at Quantico tomorrow morning.

  She made what felt like a fateful decision, then took out her cellphone and called for a cab.

  She knew where she was going tonight.

  What she didn’t know was …

  Am I ever going to come back?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dusk had fallen by the time Jake Crivaro drove across the state line into West Virginia. During the entire drive, he’d been brooding about Riley Sweeney. He felt bad about being so cold toward her during the drive back to Quantico, and he was sorry he couldn’t tell her the reason for it.

  But that was impossible.

  He remembered Erik Lehl’s stern order during their last meeting …

  “What I’m about to say must never leave this room.”

  And once Lehl had told him what he had to say, Jake understood exactly why it had to be kept secret.

  Unfortunately, Riley had overheard the tense exchange between the mayor and the police chief. Chief Messenger had said …

  “I’d expected Senator Alsop to be at Hope’s memorial service yesterday.”

  And Mayor Nelson had gotten testy about it …

  “Don’t think about it. And don’t talk about it. You know better than that.”

  Jake sighed and muttered under his breath …

  “Why does that kid have to be so good?”

  Any other rookie would have thought nothing of what she’d heard. But Jake knew all too well that Riley Sweeney wasn’t just any other rookie …

  She doesn’t miss a trick.

  In fact, he was pretty sure that her natural instincts were about as good as his own. That was why he’d pushed her into the Honors Internship Summer Program and then into the FBI Academy.

  But now what was he going to do with her?

  She’s a diamond in the rough, he thought.

  But she was a whole lot rougher than most rough diamonds, prone to rash decisions and sometimes too keenly sensitive and observant for her own good. Was Jake enough of a jeweler to shape that diamond into its potential shape?

  Maybe not …

  Maybe she’s more than I can handle.

  He noticed that he was approaching a freeway exit for the town of Milladore. Riley had pointed out that town during their drive to Quantico …

  “My dad lives in a cabin up in the mountains near that town.”

  It occurred to Jake that he actually knew very little about Riley Sweeney—where and how she had grown up, the kind of experiences that had made her who she was. And he knew nothing at all about her father.

  Without quite knowing why, Jake swung his car into the exit lane and continued on his way to Milladore. When he passed the sign for the town line, he quickly saw that this was a sleepy little Virginia town—similar to those in West Virginia where he’d been investigating the murders. Milladore was bigger than Hyland, he thought, but probably smaller than Dighton.

  Not that it really mattered …

  What am I doing here, anyway?

  It occurred to him that he’d been driving for hours now, and maybe it was time for a little break. He parked in front of a little bar called Roy’s Tavern. He walked into the smoky interior and saw that it was a slow business night. A couple of middle-aged men were playing pool, and another was sitting at the bar talking to the bartender. There didn’t seem to be anybody else in the place.

  Jake sat down at the stained and spotted wooden bar and ordered a beer. As the bartender filled a mug from a tap, Jake noticed that the man sitting next to him was eyeing his sidearm.

  In a somewhat suspicious voice, the customer said …

  “I take it you work with the law.”

  Jake nodded and took out his badge.

  “Special Agent Jake Crivaro, FBI,” he said. “Don’t worry, though. I’m not here on business.”

  The bartender and the customer chuckled.

  “Well, I guess we should be relieved,” the bartender said.

  The customer said, “If you don’t mind my asking, what does bring you through Milladore? People don’t often stop in this Podunk for no good reason.”

  Jake chuckled and lifted his mug.

  He said, “I just wanted a beer. Is that enough of a reason?”

  The bartender said, “Well, I guess you came to the right place.”

  Jake sat sipping his beer in silence for a few moments. He felt a growing itch of curiosity.

  Then he asked, “Do either of you happen to know a guy named Sweeney?”

  The bartender and the customer looked at each other with surprise.

  “Sweeney?” the bartender said.

  “You mean Oliver Sweeney?” the customer said.

  Jake shrugged and said, “I guess. The Sweeney I’m talking about lives in a cabin not far from here.”

  The bartender laughed and said, “Yeah, that would be Oliver Sweeney.”

  The customer squinted at Jake and asked, “Are you sure you’re not here on law business? Because I can’t remember anybody coming through Milladore asking about Oliver Sweeney. Did he maybe do something he shouldn’t have?”

  Jake felt his curiosity rising.

  “Not that I know of,” he said. “What can you tell me about him?”

  The bartender started drying some glasses and said, “Not much, I don’t guess. We don’t see a lot of Sweeney here in town. He comes in to buy a newspaper, or shows up over at the local VFW from time to time—not that he’s especially welcome there. He’s got kind of a temper, that guy. Tends to get into fights.”

  Jake was fascinated now …

  Riley’s father—a brawler?

  He asked, “How might I get in touch with him?”

  The customer shook his head.

  “I don’t reckon you can,” he said. “And I’m not sure why you’d want to. He’s kind of hermit-like, doesn’t have a phone. You’d have to go up on the mountain and roust him out of his cabin.”

  Then with a chuckle the customer add
ed …

  “That’s a course of action I don’t exactly recommend.”

  Jake’s eyes widened with interest.

  “Actually, I think I’d like to do just that,” he said. “Can you give me some directions?”

  The customer seemed reluctant.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, mister,” he said.

  But the bartender was more obliging.

  He pointed and said, “Drive out of town that way, and pretty soon you’ll come to Elk Hill Road. Turn right and continue up into the hills for a couple of miles. Eventually you’ll see a mailbox on your left with the initials OS and some numbers painted on it. That marks the drive that leads up to Sweeney’s cabin.”

  Jake swallowed the rest of his beer and put down money for a tip.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be going now. You folks have a nice evening.”

  The bartender called after Jake as he walked away from the bar.

  “Now wait just a minute, mister. You’re not planning to go up there right now, are you?”

  “Why not?” Jake asked.

  The customer shrugged and said, “It’s night, that’s why not.”

  Jake felt a jolt of surprise.

  This was starting to seem like the beginning of some Dracula movie …

  What is this Sweeney guy, a vampire?

  The bartender said, “Just wait till morning, why don’t you? There’s a little motel over on the edge of town. It’s always got vacancies. Put up there for the night.”

  Jake smiled and said, “I’ll do that. Thanks again.”

  Of course, as he left the bar and got into his car, Jake had no intention of spending the night here in Milladore. He needed to be back in Dighton before morning. He drove out of town until he came to Elk Hill Drive and turned left. It was a gravel road that wended its way along a sharply sloping hillside.

  The night was overcast and very dark. Jake drove what seemed like more than the couple of miles the bartender had mentioned and felt like he was in the middle of nowhere.

  Did I miss it? he wondered.

  Finally, he spotted what he was looking for—a mailbox with the painted letters and numbers on the left. The road beyond the mailbox was dark.

  He turned past the mailbox and continued along a twisting stretch of dirt road. For a while he was beginning to think that the guys at the bar had sent him on a wild goose chase.

  Finally his headlights revealed a small cabin in a clearing. No lights were on inside. Again, Jake wondered if he’d been sent up here as a joke. But Riley had said her father lived in a cabin in the woods, and this sure was exactly that.

  He parked, turned off the engine, and got out of his car.

  In the darkness he heard the cabin door open and a snarling voice call out …

  “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

  Jake called back in a pleasant voice …

  “I’m just here on a friendly visit.”

  “I don’t think so,” the voice yelled back.

  Just then Jake saw a flash from the front door and a heard the loud bang of a shotgun …

  He’s shooting at me! Jake thought.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was quite late as Riley walked briskly along the city sidewalk. The few other people who were out tonight didn’t look particularly friendly, but the streets in this neighborhood were familiar and not any more threatening than they’d been …

  Before, she thought.

  Back in the summer, when I lived here full time.

  With Ryan.

  As she neared her destination, she wondered …

  What do I think I’m doing here now?

  She felt as though she’d been driven by some mindless impulse ever since Crivaro had dropped her off in front of the dorm. Instead of going back to her room, she’d caught a cab to the Quantico Amtrak station, taken the first train she could get to DC, then caught the subway that brought her here.

  She discovered that she had no answer to her own question about what she was doing here. All she knew for sure was that she wanted to resolve something after such an awful day—her botched performance at Hogan’s Alley that morning and then her failure to pick up any gut feelings at the crime scene in West Virginia.

  Worse still, she didn’t know exactly why Agent Crivaro was so angry with her, and he didn’t seem interested in explaining it to her.

  She thought that maybe Ryan had been right all along.

  Maybe I don’t belong in the FBI. Maybe going to the Academy was a big mistake.

  Deep inside, she still didn’t quite believe that, but she was driven by an overwhelming need to get something right. And there seemed to be only one thing she could hope to accomplish tonight—and that was to settle things with Ryan.

  What “settling things” might mean, she had no idea.

  All she knew was that his belated reply to the email she’d sent him on her first night at Quantico had been as cold as cold could be. It was time to find out where things really stood between them.

  As she approached the apartment building, she saw that lights were on in their basement apartment.

  She stopped in her tracks for a moment.

  He’s home, she thought.

  Part of her had been hoping Ryan would still be at the law office working late tonight. That would give her some time alone in the apartment to figure out exactly what she wanted to say to him …

  Because I sure don’t know right now.

  Riley took out her keys and opened the outside door to the building. Then she went down the stairs into the basement hallway and stood outside their apartment door.

  She could hear jazz music playing inside. She figured Ryan must be sitting at the kitchen table working on stuff that he’d brought home.

  She hesitated again and asked herself …

  What am I going to say?

  She fingered her engagement ring and considered a bold approach.

  She’d just take off her ring and hold it out to Ryan and say …

  “Do you want this back? Because it’s time to decide.”

  She sighed as she realized she simply didn’t have the guts to do that—and besides, it might have disastrous results.

  But then, so might anything else she did or said.

  She realized …

  I’ve just got to play it by ear.

  Riley took a deep breath to summon up her courage.

  Should I knock?

  Of course not, this is my apartment too.

  She put her key in the lock and turned it and opened the door.

  As the door swung open, Riley took a step backward at what she saw.

  She dropped her go-bag on the floor.

  Ryan was sitting on the couch, and a young woman was sitting close beside him.

  They looked as surprised as Riley felt.

  Ryan said, “Riley! I hadn’t expected you home!”

  Obviously, Riley thought.

  But she couldn’t think what to say, so she just stood there, staring.

  Papers were spread out on the coffee table, along with legal pads bearing handwritten words and scribbles.

  Ryan scrambled up from the couch, hurried toward Riley and tried to give her a hug.

  She didn’t hug him back.

  The woman got to her feet too, and gave Riley a disarmingly warm smile. Like Ryan, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. She had short hair and a boyishly attractive face and was wearing reading glasses.

  The woman said, “I’m glad to meet you, Riley. I’m Brigitte Carr, another entry-level lawyer at Parsons & Rittenhouse. Ryan and I have been doing a lot of work together.”

  Ryan was red-faced and obviously embarrassed, and of course Riley was deeply flustered. By contrast, Brigitte seemed remarkably cool and composed.

  Before Riley quite knew it, she was shaking hands with the woman.

  Ryan said, “Um—I’m glad to see you, Riley. What brings you home?”

  Riley felt all her hopes for sorting thing
s out with Ryan crashing all around her …

  There’s no way that’s going to happen now.

  Riley stammered, “I—I realized … I forgot to take some things with me. I came back to get them.”

  She dashed into their bedroom and shut the door. She realized she was hyperventilating, so she tried to bring her breathing under control.

  What’s going on here? she wondered.

  She glanced around the room, looking for telltale signs that Ryan and Brigitte might be sleeping together. The bed was unmade, which was no surprise. Ryan seldom made the bed. She didn’t see any suspicious items of clothing …

  Was it possible that Brigitte really was here just to do some work with Ryan?

  Without quite understanding why, she murmured to herself …

  “Does it matter why she’s here?”

  Somehow, Riley felt that the woman’s presence couldn’t possibly be a good thing—not even if her visit was perfectly innocent.

  The bedroom door opened and Ryan came in.

  In an agitated voice he asked, “Riley, what’s going on?”

  Riley said, “I was wondering the same thing.”

  Ryan said, “This isn’t what you’re obviously thinking. Brigitte and I work closely together, and we’ve got a huge workload right now, and we needed to work late, so we decided to do it here. That’s all that’s going on. Really.”

  Riley looked into his eyes, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth.

  She felt an odd shiver as she realized …

  I can’t tell.

  It wasn’t the first time her instincts had conked out on her today. But this felt worse than her failure to connect with the killer back at the crime scene in West Virginia. If she couldn’t even tell whether her own fiancé was lying, what kind of FBI Agent could she ever hope to be?

  She said, “Look, I came here to talk, find out where things were between us. Obviously this isn’t a good time.”

  Ryan said, “No, I don’t guess it is. You’re right, we do need to talk, but …”

  He shrugged and fell silent.

  She could almost hear him saying the words, “Not now.”

  “I thought …” Riley began.

  But she realized she didn’t know exactly what she’d thought. Had she believed that everything was ever going back to some kind of normal between them?