LURING

by Blake Pierce

  Ryan said, “Just give us a little time to finish up. Then you and I can sit down and talk.”

  A storm of mixed feelings made Riley’s head whirl. She couldn’t understand why she was so upset, but she knew she couldn’t stand to stay here another moment.

  “I’m going now,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “Let’s talk sometime soon.”

  She hurried out of the bedroom and through the living room, toward the door.

  Brigitte was still there, poring over the law papers. She glanced up over her reading glasses at Riley.

  “Leaving so soon?” Brigitte asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to get going,” Riley said breathlessly.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Brigitte said cheerfully.

  Riley picked up her go-bag and rushed out of the apartment.

  Feeling lost and dazed, she headed straight for the subway stop and boarded the next train back to Union Station. As she took a seat, Riley struggled to understand what had just happened, what she had just seen.

  Most of all, why she was so upset about it?

  Were Ryan and that woman sleeping together, or … ?

  “Stop it,” she murmured aloud to herself.

  At long last, a sad truth seemed to dawn on her.

  It really didn’t matter whether Ryan was having an affair. In a way, it would almost be better if he were.

  What mattered was that he was sharing the evening with someone who shared his interests and goals …

  In our apartment.

  They were talking together about things that Riley knew nothing about.

  And Ryan certainly knew and cared nothing about Riley’s life.

  The lesson of the last few days suddenly seemed starkly clear …

  We don’t have anything in common.

  There wasn’t even anything for them to talk over.

  As the train started on its way, Riley looked again at the ring on her finger and thought …

  I should have given it back.

  But she couldn’t very well stop the train and go running back to the apartment to do that …

  Maybe I’ll mail it to him or something.

  Or maybe she could give it to him whenever she went back to the apartment to gather up her belongs—whenever that might be.

  Right now, Riley’s whole future felt like some kind of a black hole leading to nowhere.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jake felt a surge of adrenalin as he scrambled behind his car and pulled out his own sidearm. The gunshot blast had come from the cabin.

  Now the strong beam of a flashlight clicked on from the doorway, searching around for him.

  What have I walked into? he wondered.

  He thought that he must have arrived at the wrong cabin in spite of following directions. Or maybe the guys at the bar had sent him into dangerous territory on purpose. Could this could be the hideout of a drug dealer or some other criminal?

  Because if this was Riley’s father, why would he be so hostile?

  The rough voice from the cabin shouted …

  “I’m asking one more time before I blow your head off—who are you?”

  “My name’s Jake Crivaro,” he said.

  He hesitated before adding …

  “I’m a Special Agent with the FBI.”

  The man called back, “FBI? Well, you’ve sure as hell got the wrong man, then.”

  “I’m not here to arrest you,” Jake yelled. “I’m not here on FBI business at all. Are you Oliver Sweeney?”

  Jake heard a loud scoff from the doorway.

  “That’s Captain Oliver Sweeney to you—retired from the U.S. Marine Corps, ’Nam combat veteran, and if you ask around these parts, you’ll hear I’m downright antisocial. Now get on out of here. I fired that first shot in the air. This is a Browning Citori stacked-barrel shotgun, and I’ve got another shell loaded, and my finger’s feeling a little itchy on this pretty gold-plated trigger. I won’t miss next time.”

  Jake called out, “Like I said, this is just a friendly visit.

  “I’m not entertaining any visitors these days,” the man called back.

  The roving flashlight beam caught Jake’s feet. Even though Jake was behind the car, he knew Sweeney could see him. If he stepped suddenly out in the open, he’d be an easy target.

  This wasn’t a good idea, he thought.

  It would be best to try to slip away before things got out of hand.

  “All right, suit yourself, I’m not here to make trouble,” Jake said, holstering his sidearm. “I’ll stand up slowly with my hands in view, so don’t shoot.”

  Jake stood up with his hands held high and walked toward the car door.

  Jake added, “I’ll just get back in the car and drive on out of here. Have a nice evening, OK? Sorry for any inconvenience.”

  As Jake put his hand on the car door handle, Sweeney said …

  “Wait just a minute. You didn’t tell me what you’re here for.”

  Squinting in the flashlight beam, Jake could now see that Sweeney had lowered his shotgun.

  Jake said, “I thought maybe we could talk about your daughter Riley.”

  Sweeney laughed coarsely.

  “What about?” he said. “You want to ask for her hand in marriage? You look a little old for her—not that I give a damn. She can marry whoever she pleases as far as I’m concerned.”

  With his hands still up, Jake began to walk cautiously toward the cabin.

  “It’s nothing like that,” he said. “I’m sort of her mentor, you might say. She’s training to become an FBI Agent, in case you didn’t know.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” Sweeney said. “Last I heard she was still at college in Lanton. A couple of her friends had gotten murdered by some psychotic killer. She came up here and told me about it, I taught her a little Krav Maga so she could defend herself. I hear the killer got caught eventually.”

  “Catching the killer was mostly her doing,” Crivaro said.

  Jake was standing right in front of Sweeney now. He saw that the retired Marine captain was a big, muscular man who still maintained his military bearing. Jake thought he noticed a flicker of pride on his weathered face.

  “You don’t say,” Sweeney said. “Come on inside, sit down and rest for a minute.”

  Jake followed Sweeney into the little cabin, its single room lit by a couple of gas lanterns. Jake took a seat in a rather uncomfortable straight-backed chair. Sweeney produced a bottle and a couple of glasses from a cabinet.

  Sweeney poured the contents of the bottle into a glass.

  He said, “I don’t have anything to drink except some fresh-pressed cider. I get my own apples from an old orchard that’s up the mountain a bit.”

  “That’d be fine,” Jake said, taking the glass that Sweeney handed to him.

  He took a sip of the cider and was startled by its tart, potent kick …

  Hard cider.

  Jake figured he’d better go easy on the stuff if he wanted to make the drive back down the mountain in one piece.

  Sweeney pulled up another chair and sat facing him. In the flickering lamplight, Jake could see that he bore a startling resemblance to Riley.

  Sweeney said, “So what did she do, drop out of school? If so, I’m glad of it. A degree in psychology—what the hell good is that?”

  Jake almost began to explain that Riley hadn’t dropped out of Lanton—that she’d graduated earlier this summer. But then he remembered …

  He wasn’t at her graduation.

  For all Jake knew, Riley hadn’t even invited him.

  Jake said, “Your daughter’s got some impressive natural abilities. I noticed that when she helped me catch the killer. She’s got rare instincts, and I want to help her develop them. You see …”

  Jake was about to explain Riley’s ability to get into a killer’s mind when Sweeney interrupted …

  “I know. She’s a hunter. Like me. I raised her that way.”

  Jake fell si
lent. He didn’t know what to say.

  Sweeney took a sip of cider, then said …

  “Tell me, Crivaro. Do you have any kids?”

  Jake shifted on his chair a bit uncomfortably.

  He said, “Uh, yeah—a son named Tyson, about Riley’s age.”

  “What kind of relationship have you got with Tyson?” Sweeney asked.

  Jake’s discomfort grew. Sweeney had hit him in a sore spot. Jake wasn’t close to his son, and he hadn’t heard from him in several months now.

  “It’s a good relationship,” Jake said.

  Sweeney smirked a little, and Jake noticed a twinkle in his eye that reminded him uncannily of Riley.

  “Don’t ever try to lie to a hunter,” Sweeney said. “We’ve got those instincts you mentioned, and we’ll see through you every time. Come on, now. Tell me the truth about you and your boy.”

  Feeling embarrassed now, Jake said slowly …

  “The truth is, Tyson and I … don’t get along especially well.”

  Sweeney chuckled and said, “Glad to hear it. I never trust a man whose children don’t hate him.”

  Jake winced a little. Tyson didn’t hate him exactly. But Jake didn’t want to elaborate about the matter, and he sure didn’t want to get into an argument.

  Sweeney said, “I’ve got two daughters who hate my living guts. I didn’t set out to make them hate me—at least not the firstborn, Wendy. But hating me came so natural to her, I saw no reason not to give her good reason for it. By the time Riley came along, well …”

  Sweeney’s voice trailed off, and there was a far away expression in his eyes.

  Jake almost felt as though Sweeney had forgotten he was there.

  In the silence, Jake found himself thinking about something he’d found about Riley while researching her past—something Riley herself probably didn’t realize that he knew.

  Jake said, “Riley’s mother got killed when she was little girl, didn’t she?”

  Sweeney winced sharply.

  Jake realized he’d hit him in a sore spot now.

  “Karen got gunned down in a candy store,” Sweeney said in a whisper. “By some stupid thug who disappeared without a trace and is probably still alive today. That’s how justice works in this world, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  Jake said, “And Riley was there when it happened, wasn’t she? She saw it happen.”

  Sweeney nodded silently.

  Jake said, “That kind of experience … it can haunt you for life. It leaves scars.”

  In a low snarl, Sweeney said, “Yeah, well—she gets no sympathy from me.”

  Jake was jolted by the harshness of those world.

  “She was only six years old,” Jake said. “Are you telling me you blame her for what happened?”

  Sweeney barked with surprising sharpness …

  “Of course I blame her. I blame everybody. I blame the man who fired the gun. I blame the store clerk who stood watching. I blame the cops for not finding the bastard who did it. And I blame me.”

  Sweeney said slowly, “But … you weren’t even there when it happened.”

  Sweeney peered deeply into Jake’s eyes, looking weirdly more like Riley every second.

  He said, “What part of blame don’t you understand, Agent Crivaro? I blame myself for what happened in ’Nam, too, because somebody sure as hell ought to shoulder that blame. We’re all to blame—for something, for everything. And if we can’t accept that and live with it, we don’t deserve to live. I’ve got no damned use for anybody who doesn’t blame himself for something. And if Riley still blames herself for what happened to her mother …”

  Sweeney inhaled deeply and nodded.

  “Well, it’s good for her. Makes her a better hunter.”

  Sweeney’s mouth dropped open. He was truly dumbfounded now.

  Sweeney swallowed some more of his cider, then said …

  “So tell me—how is she doing under your … tutelage?”

  Crivaro realized that he had no idea how to answer that question.

  When he’d dropped of Riley Sweeney at her dorm earlier today, it had felt like a permanent rift.

  But was it really?

  Instead of replying, Jake set down his glass and said …

  “I’d better be going.”

  As he got up from his chair, Sweeney chuckled grimly and said …

  “She’s failing that bad, huh?”

  Crivaro stood staring down at the big, bitter man for a moment.

  Then it occurred to him what he could honestly say about Riley …

  “She’s a diamond in the rough.”

  Smiling, Sweeney said, “Well, don’t polish her up too pretty. And don’t smooth out all that roughness. She’s going to need it.”

  “Thanks for the cider,” Jake said.

  As Jake walked out the door, Sweeney called out to him …

  “Crivaro—I know something about you. Something you may not know yourself.”

  Jake turned and looked at him.

  Sweeney said, “You’re a good man.”

  Jake was swept by a chill of sheer perplexity. He felt as though he ought to return the compliment, or at least thank Sweeney for saying it.

  But neither of those options seemed possible at the moment.

  Sweeney added in a tight voice, “Stick by my daughter. She needs you. You can do her a lot of good. You’re a lot better for her than I could ever be.”

  Jake nodded and climbed back in the car and started the engine. As he headed back along the crooked drive that led to the gravel road back to Milladore, he realized he was shaken deeply by the conversation he’d just had.

  He remembered Sweeney’s parting words …

  “You’re a good man.”

  Jake shivered as a little as he wondered—what could that mean, coming from a man like Oliver Sweeney?

  He played back Sweeney’s words in his head …

  “I’ve got no damned use for anybody who doesn’t blame himself for something.”

  Jake suddenly realized …

  That’s me.

  He saw right through me.

  As much as he tried to deny it even to himself, Jake was haunted by failure—his failures as father, husband, colleague, and friend. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t done much good in any of those roles. As for his accomplishments as an FBI Agent, he’d brought a good many killers to justice, but he’d failed to bring in just as many others. Every time an innocent person died at the hands of a vicious killer, he couldn’t help but blame himself.

  He shuddered at the possibility that he and Sweeney were really quite alike.

  But wasn’t Sweeney some kind of monster?

  Maybe, Jake thought.

  Even so, he’d helped shape Riley Sweeney into what she was today …

  And that’s not completely a bad thing.

  He also remembered Sweeney saying …

  “Stick by my daughter. She needs you. You can do her a lot of good. You’re a lot better for her than I could ever be.”

  It had sounded like an order. Coming from a military man like Sweeney, those words had a lot of force.

  And suddenly, giving up on Riley Sweeney didn’t seem like an option.

  Besides, Jake realized he’d tended to underrate Riley until right now. She’d survived a life with this hard, bitter man—and she’d come out all the better for it. It would take a lot to defeat her, if anything ever could. And a kid like that deserved all the help he could give her.

  Jake smiled as he recalled what he himself had just said about Riley …

  “She’s a diamond in the rough.”

  He thought …

  Maybe not so rough after all.

  She had abilities and resiliency and character far beyond her years.

  Meanwhile, Jake had get his mind back on business. There was a murder case to solve in West Virginia.

  A killer was still out there—and he might strike again at any minute …

  If he has
n’t already.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The man crouched among some bushes at the edge of a town park. It was night and no casual observer would spot him here. This was a good place for him to watch and wait.

  From his hiding place, he had a clear view of Wynnewood Community College just across the street. Through a window he could see a woman teaching a class of enthusiastic-looking students.

  She’ll be next, he thought.

  The teacher didn’t know it, but she had sealed her own fate that very afternoon. When she’d gotten out of her car and crossed the street while carrying an armload of books, she had almost bumped into him.

  She’d frozen in her tracks at the sight of his scarred face and stared for a moment.

  She’d blushed with embarrassment and blurted …

  “Oh—I beg your pardon.”

  Then she’d rushed toward the school building where a group of students awaited her at the entrance. When she joined them, the students had looked in his direction, apparently saying something to her about the near collision. The teacher had shaken her head and said nothing, as if trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. Then she’d led the group on into the building.

  I know her type, he thought.

  She fancied herself an exceptionally sensitive and compassionate person. She didn’t like to think of herself as someone who judged people by appearances. And that was why she’d blushed with shame when she’d caught herself staring at him. His appearance had horrified her—irrationally but quite naturally. And she couldn’t help but feel that she was to blame.

  Stupid woman, he thought.

  Didn’t she know that everybody judged everybody else, especially by appearances?

  It was human nature.

  He didn’t especially mind how children pointed at him and laughed and sometimes openly called him names …

  “Moonface! Moonface!”

  They were being cruel, of course, but they were also being true to their natures.

  But as they grew up, they learned hypocrisy and falseness.

  They tried to swallow down their meanness, pretended to be better people than they were, lied to themselves …

  They stop being children, he thought.

  It angered him. This woman angered him in a way that neither of the other women had angered him. Not that anger had anything to do with what he planned to do her tonight. That would be all about pleasure, not anger. It would be about release from the pain he’d carried inside him for so many years.