LURING

by Blake Pierce

  “Are we really through with the case?”

  Crivaro scoffed as he started the car engine and pulled out of the parking place.

  “You tell me, Riley. What’s your gut telling you right at this moment. Do you really think those two jokers have got two killers dead to rights?”

  The answer came to Riley right away …

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t either,” Crivaro said as he drove down the street. “Nobody can make us go anywhere. My forensics guys are still in Wynnewood, and that’s where they’re going to stay for the time being. Meanwhile, you and I have got to testify in a trial in Lanton tomorrow. That’s not too far away, just across the mountain. We can get a couple of rooms for the night. We can get back here in a hurry if we have to.”

  As they rounded a corner to head on out of town, Riley saw a man in a white jacket walking along—Dr. Earl Gibson, she quickly realized.

  When Gibson saw who was in the car, his gaze connected with Riley’s. His stare was strange and hostile.

  Riley felt chilled to the bone, but she didn’t know just why.

  It was more than the fact that his appearance was so startlingly homely.

  Something is deeply wrong with that man, she thought.

  But whatever that something was, she figured it was none of her business.

  She tried to put the doctor out of her mind as Crivaro drove them on out of Hyland.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  As Riley sat in the court room awaiting her turn to testify, she kept having to remind herself that this wasn’t another dream. Getting plunged into the last phases of a long murder trial felt weird and disorienting.

  She wished she’d been here during at least some of the proceedings—Brant Hayman’s not guilty plea, the questioning of other witnesses, the presentation of evidence, testimony of experts, and all the rest of it.

  Instead, she felt lost and confused and downright scared. She wondered if she’d have the courage to testify.

  Meanwhile, she hadn’t realized that a murder trial could seem so strange and surreal. It wasn’t as though anything outwardly weird was happening. To the contrary, what disturbed her was how everything seemed so formal and regimented.

  The courtroom itself was stately and museum-like, with its high ceiling, its polished, dark wood paneling, its stiff wooden furniture, its imposing judge’s bench, and its pew-like seating for spectators.

  Riley remembered the killings all too well, and those memories brought back feelings of horror, helplessness, and sheer confusion—so different from the atmosphere here and now.

  She almost wondered …

  Am I in the right place?

  Is this really a murder trial?

  Or is this really a dream after all?

  After Riley and Crivaro had arrived here in Lanton yesterday, they’d gotten a good night’s rest in their motel rooms. Before coming to the courthouse this morning, Crivaro had told her over breakfast …

  “Hayman has got no defense. The evidence against him is solid. There’s no possibility of reasonable doubt. The only question is—why did he plead ‘not guilty’? He might have cut a plea deal if he’d cooperated with prosecutors. Now he’ll almost certainly face the death penalty.”

  Indeed, according to what Riley had been told, everyone in the courtroom was stunned when Hayman’s pleaded not guilty. Even his own lawyer had seemed badly shaken.

  Right now Mona Brogden, the prosecuting attorney, was questioning a cop on the witness stand. The cop was presenting especially damning evidence. The police had seized notes that Hayman had written about each of the murders—notes that he must have intended to destroy after he had completed a twisted “experiment” in mass trauma.

  He’d written those notes before and after the murders—first describing before the fact exactly how he intended to kill his victims, then later relating how each murder had actually unfolded, carefully noting any deviations from his original plan.

  The cop’s testimony made Riley feel just a little less worried.

  Surely those notes alone proved Hayman’s guilt.

  Then Hayman’s lawyer, Kirby Larch, rose to cross-examine the witness. He showed little conviction as he suggested that Hayman’s notes had been nothing more than an academic exercise—an attempt on his part to imagine what the killer might be experiencing. It was a weak defense, and Larch seemed to know it.

  But as Larch took his seat again, Hayman smiled a knowing smile.

  Is he up to something? Riley wondered.

  Has he got a surprise up his sleeve?

  So far, Hayman didn’t seem to have noticed her presence in the courtroom. She’d forgotten what a handsome, charming man he was, dressed even now in a casual, academic-style corduroy outfit.

  He didn’t look like a man who had brutally murdered two young coeds by slashing their throats in their dorm rooms.

  But then, she’d misjudged him from the very start.

  She remembered taking her first class with him. She’d been a freshman then, and he was still a graduate assistant, not yet a professor. She found him to be the most exciting, stimulating, and inspiring teacher she’d ever had. It was because of him she’d decided to major in psychology.

  After the cop was dismissed from the stand, Agent Crivaro was soon called to testify. Crivaro had warned Riley that his own testimony was liable to seem bland. His task, he’d said, was simply to relate his own actions as a law enforcement officer, not to vent his personal outrage toward the man on trial.

  As Crivaro answered the questions of the prosecuting attorney, Riley was impressed by how clearly and succinctly he told his story—how he’d come to Lanton at the request of the local police after the second murder took place, and how he and his team had employed their best skills in trying to find the killer.

  Crivaro also told how he had met Riley and soon sensed that she had the potential to be a BAU profiler. He described how she’d worked with him during the case—sometimes with valuable insights, sometimes making rookie mistakes, but always doing the best she could.

  Then he told how Riley, without meaning to, had led him straight to the killer, and how he’d narrowly saved her from becoming his next victim. Finally he described how he’d subdued and arrested Brant Hayman.

  The prosecution lawyer thanked Crivaro for his testimony. Then she turned the witness over to the defense lawyer for cross-examination.

  Still displaying a distinct lack of enthusiasm, Kirby Larch asked Crivaro …

  “Are you sure my client was trying to kill Riley Sweeney when you burst into his office? Couldn’t it possibly have been the other way around? Might my client only have been acting in self-defense?”

  Crivaro couldn’t help but scoff aloud at the question.

  “I know what I saw,” he told Larch. “If I’d gotten there a moment later, Hayman would have killed her. And that was exactly what he was trying to do.”

  “Thank you,” Larch said. “I’ve got no further questions, your honor.”

  Again Riley was surprised. Why hadn’t Larch pushed harder to cross-examine Crivaro? Did he really think there was no point in trying to challenge Crivaro’s testimony?

  Crivaro stepped down, and Riley gulped hard as she realized …

  Now it’s my turn.

  She remembered how Brogden had prepared her for this moment a little while ago, helping her rehearse what she was likely to have to say.

  “Just tell the truth,” Brogden had said.

  It sounded so simple. So why did it feel like such a daunting task right now?

  The bailiff called Riley to the stand, and she raised her right hand to affirm the truth of her testimony. Then Mona Brogden stepped toward the witness stand and said in a gentle tone …

  “Ms. Sweeney, how are you today?”

  Riley almost said “fine” before she reminded herself a bit wryly …

  I’m under oath.

  And I’m not exactly “fine.”

  In
stead she said …

  “I’m nervous and scared.”

  Brogden nodded and said, “I know, and I understand that. I’m sorry that you have to relieve such a terrible ordeal. But your testimony is very important today.”

  “I understand,” Riley said.

  Always maintaining a kindly and sympathetic tone, Brogden asked the same questions she’d asked Riley during the preparation—questions about Riley’s discovery of the body of her friend Rhea Thorson in the victim’s own dorm room, her subsequent interactions with the local police, and then finding the body of her best friend Trudy Lanier in the room they shared together.

  As she described all this, Riley felt almost as though she were leaving her body, looking over the proceedings from a distance, relating events that had happened to somebody else. She was relieved that Hayman still wasn’t making eye contact with her. He seemed to be going to some trouble to ignore her presence. Riley couldn’t guess why.

  She talked about Crivaro’s arrival in Lanton and how they’d done their best to work as a team. Finally she explained how she’d come to the mistaken suspicion that a kindly older psychology professor was the real murderer, then had gone to Brant Hayman’s office to share her thoughts with him.

  That had been when Hayman had revealed his true nature.

  He’d brutally attacked Riley, and once she’d been subdued, he’d told her about his twisted purpose. He was conducting a scientific study of mass grief and terror, using the Lanton campus as a laboratory. He himself was committing the murders in order to provoke the reactions he wanted to study.

  The plan, he’d told her, was going smoothly until she’d come along just now.

  That was why he had to kill her too, he’d said.

  She’d done her best to defend herself, but he’d gotten the better of her. He began to strangle her with his necktie, and she was losing consciousness when Agent Crivaro had burst through the door to save her.

  Finally Brogden asked her, “Ms. Sweeney, is there any chance that you misconstrued the situation? You said that you tried to defend yourself. But are you sure Prof. Hayman was really trying to hurt you? Might he have felt as though he had to defend himself from you?”

  “Oh, no,” Riley said. “I know what happened. He was really trying to kill me. And he openly admitted to killing my two friends.”

  Brogden turned to the judge and said, “I have no further questions, Your Honor. The defense may cross examine the witness.”

  To Riley’s surprise, Kirby Larch stood up beside his client and said …

  “The defense has no questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

  Again, Riley sensed that Larch considered his client’s case to be hopeless.

  And yet …

  Shouldn’t he at least go through the motions of trying to defend him?

  Larch sat whispering with Hayman for a few moments.

  Then the lawyer got to his feet and said to the judge …

  “Your Honor, if the court has no objection, I wish to call Prof. Brant Hayman to the stand.”

  The air suddenly echoed with confused and startled voices.

  Riley, too, was taken completely by surprise.

  Why on earth did Hayman want to testify?

  What could he possibly say that wouldn’t wind up being self-incriminating?

  Although Riley was no lawyer, it seemed like a truly insane tactic.

  The judge rapped his gavel and called the court back to order.

  Then the judge said, “I’ll allow it.”

  Hayman rose from the table and walked to the witness stand, where he affirmed that his testimony was going to be true.

  As he sat back down, he looked straight at Riley for the first time.

  And he smiled with look deep satisfaction, as if he relished the thought of whatever was about to happen next.

  Riley shuddered deeply.

  So far, nothing about the trial had made any sense, including the defendant’s plea of not guilty …

  But now …

  Riley felt pinned under his gaze like an insect in a display case.

  She felt absolutely certain that Brant Hayman was about to do or say something that nobody could possibly have expected …

  And it has something to do with me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Riley tried to disengage herself from Hayman’s gaze. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him. She found herself remembering how captivating a presence he’d been in a classroom, how a whole hour could pass without her realizing it. Other students had told her they’d felt the same way.

  Back then, she’d enjoyed the strange spell he could cast on a group of students.

  It had seemed like a positive and exciting thing.

  Even as he sat there on the witness stand, a prisoner accused of murder, the man had a similar magnetism.

  But now it seemed scary and positively dangerous.

  After a few moments, Kirby Larch asked his client …

  “Prof. Hayman, was Ms. Sweeney’s account of your encounter in your office accurate?”

  Still looking directly at Riley, Hayman smiled and said …

  “Not at all. She attacked me, not the other way around. In fairness to her, though, she thought she had a good reason. She thought I’d killed her two friends, and she was angry, and I couldn’t make her listen to reason. She’s a surprisingly strong young woman and …”

  He paused and shrugged and said …

  “Well, I did what I had to do to defend myself. When Agent Crivaro burst into my office, it must have looked like I was the aggressor. The truth was, I was relieved that he arrived. I truly feared for my life.”

  Kirby Larch scratched his chin and said, “Then the conversation Ms. Sweeney says took place between you, when you supposedly admitted to killing her friends as part of an experiment—that didn’t take place at all?”

  Hayman looked at his lawyer and said, “No, I never said any such thing.”

  “Why do you think she’d make something like that up?” Larch asked.

  The prosecuting attorney jumped to her feet and shouted, “Objection! The defendant is being asked to speculate on Ms. Sweeney’s motivations. He’s not a mind-reader.”

  Larch said, “No, but he is a psychology professor. Your Honor, the question goes to the previous witness’s credibility. In his own defense, my client deserves to have his say in this matter.”

  The judge frowned for a moment.

  Then he said, “I’ll allow it.”

  Hayman turned his disturbing stare back on Riley again.

  He said, “Odd though this may seem, I don’t think the young lady was lying. Her story is a rather extreme case of confabulation—a belief in fabricated imaginary experiences. In her mind, she has been building and elaborating on this story for quite some time. I noticed that she had this tendency when she was my student. She has a remarkable imagination—and an unfortunate tendency to take her own imaginings as fact.”

  Riley bristled with anger.

  He’s making me sound like I’m crazy, she thought.

  Was anyone in the courtroom going to believe him?

  The possibility scared her.

  His voice, manner, and appearance were so compelling, and he seemed both sincere and authoritative.

  She almost thought she’d believe him if she were someone else in the courtroom.

  Hayman continued …

  “The truth is, I’m afraid I let our relationship get a little out of hand. I think I became more than a teacher to her. I became a sort of mentor.”

  Riley felt a chill all over as she realized …

  That’s true.

  His impact upon her as a freshman had been enormous.

  She cringed as she remember confessing as much to him one day …

  “I’ve always meant to tell you … you really inspired me to major in Psychology.”

  Hayman added, “Not that I saw anything wrong with that, at least not at the time.
Riley Sweeney struck me as a talented young woman—rather brilliant, actually. I was flattered that she held me in such high regard. But I hadn’t realized … well, that she had personal issues. My guess is that she had or has a troubled relationship with her father. She’s been looking for a substitute father figure for a long time.”

  Riley felt frozen with mortification.

  Why did he have to be so insightful about her?

  She wanted to put her hands over her ears …

  If I keep listening, I’m liable to think I’m crazy.

  Hayman then glanced back and forth between Riley and Crivaro and said …

  “I’ve been trying to follow Riley’s life since … well, since this whole terrible thing happened. I’ve kept up with her even during my incarceration. She’s been training to become an FBI Agent, I hear. And she’s found another mentor—the witness who spoke before her, Special Agent Jake Crivaro. My guess is that he’s a somewhat more appropriate influence on her than I could be, being a somewhat older man.”

  Riley could see Crivaro’s face redden with rage.

  Everybody else in the courtroom seemed utterly transfixed, including the prosecuting attorney.

  Hayman locked eyes with Riley again, as if he were talking to her and her alone …

  “Tell me, Riley—how is this new case of yours going? Something to do with ‘the devil’s rope,’ I hear.”

  Riley shuddered …

  He really has been following my life.

  Hayman continued …

  “Two men were arrested yesterday, weren’t they? Two brothers. But you’ve got doubts that they’re really guilty, don’t you? You should pay attention to those doubts. Follow your instincts. But be fearless about it. Sooner or later, those instincts will lead you into a world of your own darkest nightmares. If they haven’t already.”

  Almost as if she’d snapped out of a trance, the prosecuting attorney jumped to her feet …

  “Objection! Your Honor, this has gone much too far!”

  “I agree,” the judge said with a growl, rapping his gavel. “The defendant—the witness—is dismissed.”

  But Hayman didn’t move from the witness chair.