by Blake Pierce
She’d been in the school building since long before sunset, and she hadn’t come outside once.
Devoted to her work, he thought.
Despite his anger toward her, he admired her for that.
This was the third class he’d watched her teach, and yet he still had no idea exactly what her classes were about. He was too far away to see exactly what she was writing down on the blackboard.
But the classroom window was open, and now that things were especially quiet in Wynnewood, he could faintly hear the woman’s voice wafting over the lawn and across the street to where he was hiding.
He couldn’t make out any words she was saying, but he could tell that it was a gentle, lilting, cheerful voice. Her voice alone seemed enough to keep her students smiling at her.
He wondered …
What will her voice sound like when it happens?
He hadn’t noticed much change in Alice’s voice one way or the other. It had sounded reedy and whiny when he’d approached her, and much the same when she’d awakened from the dose of chloroform and realized he was wrapping her up with barbed wire.
But the next woman had been different. Her voice had become timid, childlike, and rather sweet when she’d recovered from her chloroform stupor and realized what was happening.
Would this woman still sound nice a little while later, when her real torment began?
He hoped so.
He would find it disappointing if the music he heard in her voice right now finally gave way to more strident tones.
Of course, it all depended on how things worked out tonight. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how he was going to carry out the abduction this time. When class let out, how was he going to catch her alone before she got to her car?
Maybe tonight’s not the night, he thought.
Maybe he needed to spend another day or two stalking her, looking for some pattern in her movements that offered a better opportunity.
He looked at his watch and figured it was about time for her class to be over. But both she and her students were chattering with excitement about whatever topic they were discussing.
How long will they drag this out?
He told himself to be patient …
Like a spider.
He’d spent many long hours watching how spiders captured and devoured their prey. He was fascinated by how a spider used its web as a sort of extension of its nervous system, sensing the moment an insect got stuck in its silken stickiness, then moving in and injecting its numbing venom …
Just like my chloroform.
… and finally wrapped the writhing creature up in strand after strand of silk—rather lovingly, he thought—to be liquefied and eaten at the spider’s leisure.
He smiled at the memory …
How wise nature is.
He did his best to be like a spider.
And yet …
Something troubled him about how his previous two endeavors had ended. After the tender act of wrapping up the women in barbed wire, partaking of their delicious terror and pain, he’d go away for awhile. And when he’d come back and find them dead, drained of blood, what did he feel?
Nothing.
Just an empty numbness.
The bundles might as well have been sacks of laundry. That was why he hadn’t bothered to keep them. Each time he’d gathered the prickly cocoon in a blanket, carried it to his truck, transported it to a fence post, and hung it up to hang there for someone else to find.
Numbness.
Surely no spider felt that way after its own prey was cocooned so nicely. Sometimes, watching a spider finish its work, he thought he sensed a feeling of fulfillment, satisfaction, and achievement radiating from that web-sized nervous system.
He’d felt that same satisfaction himself, long ago when he’d claimed his first victim. In fact, that early satisfaction had hung on for many years, and he’d kept that bundle as a trophy—no, more than a trophy, more like a shrine where he could relive the euphoria of he’d experienced back then, bask in its lingering glory.
But eventually the shrine had lost its magic. He didn’t know why, but he no longer got that precious uplift from it anymore. That was why he’d taken his more recent victims—in hopes of creating a new and vital shrine.
It was a shame that it hadn’t yet happened …
But maybe this time will be different.
If so, this woman would be his last victim—perhaps forever.
As he crouched there thinking and reflecting, he finally saw the students rise from their desks, and the teacher began to pack her books and papers into her briefcase.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
At long last, the class was over.
The students filed out of the room, and the teacher turned off the light and disappeared after them. For a few moments, the whole building was dark. Then the front door opened and the students poured out, still clustered around the teacher and chatting with her eagerly about today’s studies.
His spirits sank as he realized …
I can’t catch her alone.
The students were going to stay with her all the way to her car.
How many days was he going to have to spend stalking her to find his opportunity?
She got into the car, and the students waved as she started to drive away. Then the students turned and walked away, probably on their way to a local bar. Meanwhile the teacher was driving slowly in his direction.
He felt a surge of excitement as it dawned on him …
I can stop her!
But he didn’t have a moment to lose.
He reached into his leather bag and took out the bottle of homemade chloroform and drenched a rag with it.
Then just as the car rounded the corner toward him, he stepped right in front of it.
The tires squealed as the woman slammed on the brakes—but not quick enough to stop her from bumping into him.
Perfect, he thought.
He wasn’t hurt in the least, but she didn’t know that.
She jumped out of the car shouting with alarm …
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you! Are you all right?”
He shook his leg a little and said …
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
As she walked toward him, he could see her cringe guiltily as she seemed to recognize his scarred face. Once again, she quickly repressed her disgust.
“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” she said.
“No, I don’t think you need to,” he said, limping a little. “But maybe you could walk with me to my truck, just to make sure.”
“Oh, I’d be glad to,” she said.
Clutching the rag in one hand, he put the other on her shoulder, feigning a need of support.
Perfect, he thought again.
This time will be so much better than the others.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Riley heard a woman’s voice, but she couldn’t understand the words that echoed weirdly all around her.
Who is that? she wondered. What does she want?
Whoever it was, she sounded as if she had something direly important to say to Riley.
Riley almost asked aloud …
“Speak more clearly. I can’t understand you.”
But she felt too groggy to speak and too stiff to move. She ached all over and her head was tilted back, resting on something hard.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring upward at an ornate ceiling that arched high above her head.
The train station, she realized.
She was sitting on a bench in Union Station in DC with her go-bag and handbag clutched in her lap. The woman’s voice she heard was broadcasting announcements about train departure and arrival times.
But Riley couldn’t remember what she was doing here.
Maybe it’s just a dream, she thought.
Then all that had happened last night flooded back into her mind. She’d arrived at the apartment to find Ryan with so
me strange woman—whether a friend, coworker, or lover, she still didn’t know.
Maybe all three, she thought. In any case, they had seemed very comfortable together.
She’d quickly fled the apartment and taken the subway here to Union Station. But she’d been too late to catch any trains back to Quantico, so she’d fallen asleep sitting awkwardly on this bench.
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was now morning.
Well, at least I slept a good long time, she thought.
The cavernous grand hall was coming to life with noisy announcements and people hurrying about in all directions. Riley looked around until she saw a screen with train schedules. She still had about 25 minutes before she could catch the next train to Quantico.
But was there any point in going back to the Academy? Even after her absence yesterday, she’d barely missed full day of activities. But even so, things had been going so badly, and she felt hopelessly far behind.
But where else am I going to go? she thought.
She looked at her cellphone and saw that Ryan hadn’t tried to call her. Going back to the apartment didn’t seem like an option. She might as well catch that train to Quantico and either sink or swim there. If she failed completely, then she’d decide what to do with her life.
Meanwhile, she was hungry. She got achingly to her feet and headed for the food court, where she bought coffee and a cheese Danish. The news was showing on a large TV screen.
She saw some reporters eagerly surrounding a distinguished-looking gray-haired gentleman. One of the reporters was speaking to the camera …
“We’re meeting West Virginia Senator Warren Gardner just outside Grace Family Church here in Washington …”
The name caught Riley’s attention …
Where have I heard that name recently?
Then she remembered—it had been back at the police station in Dighton.
She listened closely to the TV reporter, who was holding out a microphone to Senator Gardner …
“Senator, is it true you’re about to announce right here in this church that you’re sponsoring a new bill?”
The senator grinned and said, “You don’t know, do you? Just wait and see. It won’t be long now.”
Ignoring a chorus of questions from the rest of the reporters, the senator and several plain-clothed bodyguards went on into the church, followed by some reporters with TV cameras.
The reporter spoke into the camera again …
“Rumor has it that the senator is going to announce the sponsorship of a bill to require the teaching of the Ten Commandments in public schools throughout the U.S.”
The news anchor asked, “But isn’t that bill going to be a nonstarter? It’ll surely never make it out of committee, much less get a full vote in the Senate.”
The reporter said, “That’s what my sources tell me. It seems possible that the senator is doing this only to appeal to his base …”
As the anchor and the reporter kept talking, Riley remembered what she’d overheard at the police station. As she and Agent Crivaro had approached the office, they’d heard the chief say to the mayor …
“I’d expected Senator Gardner to be at Hope’s memorial service yesterday.”
And the mayor had testily replied …
“Don’t think about it. And don’t talk about it. You know better than that.”
She also remembered the anxious faces of the mayor and the chief when she and Agent Crivaro had walked into the office and they’d realized they’d been overheard. Their behavior had seemed awfully suspicious at the time.
Again she thought that there had to be some special reason why a U.S. Senator might be expected to attend a funeral in a little town in West Virginia. Did it have something to do with the case?
Crivaro hadn’t seemed to think so.
In fact, he’d been angry with Riley for even suggesting the idea …
“Leave it the hell alone, Riley.”
But could she leave it alone?
Now that she’d been reminded of the case, she realized how upset she was about how Crivaro put her out of action.
Maybe I can get something done after all, she thought.
But she knew she had to hurry. She left the rest of her Danish and coffee unfinished and ran out of the building. Outside, she caught the first cab she could get.
*
A few minutes later, the cab dropped Riley off in front of Grace Family Church. The front entrance was still surrounded by reporters, and there were plenty of other bystanders gathered there as well.
It looked like she’d gotten here just in time. The front door opened, and the senator came back outside flanked by his security people. Reporters charged toward him, asking dozens of questions at once.
With a smug smile on his face, the senator waved the reporters away.
He said, “I think everybody just heard my message loud and clear. It’s time we put God back into the classroom. And I’m going to make sure that Congress makes it happen. I’m on my way to the Capitol right now to formally introduce my bill on the Senate floor. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get going.”
The reporters and onlookers showed no sign of wanting to disperse. They bunched around him asking whether he really thought his bill was constitutional, if it could pass both Houses of Congress, or if it was just a stunt to cater to his voters.
Riley knew she had to get closer to him if she was going to find out why she’d heard his name back in the police station.
How could she possibly get this man to answer her questions?
Blend into the group, she decided.
She took out her notebook and a pencil and pushed her way through the crowd until she was very close to the senator.
Holding up her notebook, she called out …
“Senator, do you have any comment to make about the recent murder of Hope Nelson in Dighton, West Virginia?”
The senator stopped dead in his tracks.
He stared at Riley with a startled expression.
“What did you just say?” he asked.
Riley felt a sharp tingle. She knew that she’d hit a nerve somehow.
She said, “A constituent of yours named Hope Nelson was murdered on Saturday. Do you have anything to say about that?”
For a moment, Riley thought she saw a trace of panic in the senator’s eyes.
Then he seemed to try to gather his wits.
He said, “It’s a tragedy, of course. Crime in this country is completely out of control. We’re too soft on crime.”
Riley pushed her way directly in front of Senator Gardner and said.
“What about the murder of Alice Gibson a week earlier in Hyland?”
Gardner’s eyes looked angry now.
“Another tragedy.”
Riley felt in her gut now that she was onto something. She was determined not to give up.
She said to the senator, “Did you have any personal connection with either of the victims?”
The reporters surrounding Riley and the senator seemed suddenly intrigued by this line of questioning. They acted like they already knew about the two murders in West Virginia. But apparently this was the first time they’d heard anyone suggest a link between Gardner and either of the victims. Gardner’s defensive reaction really got their attention.
It was clear that Riley had aroused their curiosity.
“I think you should answer the woman’s question,” one reporter demanded.
“What do you know about the murders?” another yelled.
“What aren’t you telling us?” shouted yet another.
The newly-besieged senator huddled for a moment with his security people.
Then one of the bodyguards stepped close to Riley.
“The senator would be happy to talk with you,” the burly man said.
Before Riley quite realized what had happened, he took one of her arms and steered her out of the group of reporters.
Another bodyguard hurried over
and grabbed her other arm. They almost lifted her off her feet as they hustled her away from the crowd.
Riley was too startled to protest. She could hear the senator telling the reporters that he had promised this person an interview and was going to fulfill that promise now. He said he would hold a press conference with all of them later in the day.
The two men firmly shoved Riley into the back of a limousine.
The climbed in too and sat on each side of her.
The senator and other guards quickly joined them in the spacious vehicle.
In a matter of seconds, she found herself seated face to face with the frowning senator.
The driver of the limo pulled away from the crowd and headed on down the street.
Riley’s head was whirling with surprise and alarm.
What have I gotten myself into? she wondered.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
As the limousine continued on its way, Riley fought down the terror that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t in danger for her life—not like when she’d been bound in the Clown Killer’s lair about to be injected with a fatal dose of amphetamines.
This is different, she thought.
Surely neither the senator nor the bodyguards intended to kill her.
The very idea was ludicrous. After all …
He’s a U.S. Senator—not some common criminal.
But why had she been snatched up like this? What did they want with her?
It didn’t help that Senator Gardner, sitting on a seat facing her, was frowning with malignant fury.
He growled, “Who do you work for?”
Riley stammered with confusion and fear …
“I—I don’t work for anybody.”
“Then you’re not a reporter?” Gardner said.
Riley gulped hard at her mistake. She should have lied. She should have tried to bluff things out, made up some news organization she supposedly worked for. But it was much too late to try that now. It had been stupid of her not to prepare such a ruse before she’d even approached him …