by Blake Pierce
Riley reminded herself that Bill didn’t know about her clandestine use of Roff as a font of information that might not be as quickly available from more official sources.
Now’s no time to tell him, she thought.
She simply said, “A friend.”
Bill shook his head and sighed. Riley knew he’d figured out instantly that she was breaking the rules again.
He knows me too well, she thought.
Fortunately, he also knew better than to ask her nosy questions.
Bill was skillfully following the Mercedes at a safe distance. Riley appreciated that he knew what he was doing. The driver wouldn’t realize she was being tailed.
As they drove, Riley explained what was going on—that she believed she’d spotted the killer and the wives of two potential victims.
“So what’s the name of the suspect—the woman we’re following?” Bill asked.
“She calls herself Eris. I don’t know her real name.”
Jared griped, “What do you mean, you don’t know her real name? What do you know about her, anyway? Just that she sounds suspicious? Are you taking us up another blind alley or what?”
Riley grunted under her breath. She was about to tell Jared to shut the hell up when they saw the Mercedes pull into the driveway of another posh residence—a pretentious pseudo-classical mansion with white columns. Bill drove past the house as if he were continuing on down the street. Then he turned a corner and parked where they could see the house through an iron fence.
It was dark outside now, and Riley was pretty sure their car wouldn’t be noticed from the house. The front of the building was well lighted, and Riley and her colleagues watched as the woman got out of her car, walked between the white columns, and entered the front door.
Jared was complaining again. “So what the hell do we do now? Just sit here waiting for her to do … well, what, exactly? Agent Paige, have we got any kind of a plan?”
Riley suppressed a growl of anger. But the truth was, she knew that Jared had a point.
She didn’t have a plan—not yet.
What were they going to do?
So far, the situation didn’t even have the makings of a stakeout.
Riley’s phone buzzed again, and she was relieved to see that the call was from Roff.
“I’ve got some names and information for you,” Roff said. “The woman in the BMW’s name is Victoria Slattery, married to a Marshfield lawyer named Emil Slattery. It looks like she’s been treated for some mysterious injuries recently …”
Riley said, “Most recently a broken arm, I’ll bet.”
“You’d win that bet,” Roff said. “The woman in the Audi’s name is Nora, and her husband’s a bestselling author you might have heard of—Harlan Ford.”
Riley felt breathless with expectation.
The name was familiar to her. She thought she might have read some of his books at one time or another.
“What about the last woman?” she asked Roff.
“Well, this is the really interesting one. Her name is Adrienne McKinney—a name not totally unfamiliar to those of us in my area of expertise. Her husband was a brilliant software engineer and entrepreneur named Knox McKinney.”
Riley’s ears pricked up at Roff’s use of the past tense.
“Was?” she asked.
“Yeah, he was murdered a couple of years ago. Caused quite a stir in the geek community. I was sure shocked about it.”
Riley was tingling all over.
“Murdered? By whom?”
“Bradley Cruickshank, a disgruntled employee who claimed that McKinney had stolen an idea from him. He just walked into McKinney’s office and shot him. The last I heard, Cruickshank was still on death row in the Georgia Diagnostic and Classification Prison in Butts County. Adrienne inherited McKinney’s fortune, naturally. She hasn’t remarried.”
Riley heard Roff take a deep breath.
He said, “Here’s what I think you’ll find most thought-provoking. Adrienne was once a promising programmer in her own right, although she kind of disappeared under her husband’s shadow after they got married. She also had a reputation for hacking skills.”
Riley gasped aloud.
Hacking skills!
That meant Adrienne could have hacked the victims’ security systems.
“But she didn’t kill her husband?” Riley asked.
“Apparently not. There was no doubt who killed him. And no sign she or anybody else put the guy up to it.”
Riley’s mind buzzed. What had it meant to Adrienne that her husband had been killed? Had she been devastated? Or had the murder in some way set her free?
She remembered all too clearly the woman’s eerie calmness when she’d said …
“Things will be better before you even know it. I promise. I know.”
Riley was still certain that the woman who called herself “Eris” was the killer, but she was no closer to being able to prove it.
Riley thanked Roff, who said, “Is there anything else I can do?”
Riley couldn’t think of what to suggest, but she didn’t want to lose the gifted hacker’s input.
Finally she said, “Be creative.”
Roff rumbled with laughter.
“I can do that,” he said.
Riley ended the call. She wasn’t surprised both Bill and Jared were staring at her with interest.
Jared asked, “Just who the hell do you keep talking to?”
Before Riley could say anything, Bill snapped, “Shut up, Jared. It’s none of your business.”
Again, Riley was grateful that Bill understood that the less said about it, the better.
Jared sat there with his mouth hanging open.
Then he asked quietly, “What do we do now?”
Riley said, “I’ve just learned that Adrienne McKinney has hacking skills. That’s enough cause to pay her a visit.”
Then she pointed at Jared and added sharply, “But you’re going to keep your mouth shut and let Bill and me do that talking. Otherwise, you wait right here in the car.”
Jared nodded, looking thoroughly cowed.
“Got it,” he said.
Riley and her colleagues got out of the car and walked up to the front entrance. When they rang the bell, they were met by a young woman dressed in a black and white maid’s uniform.
“How may I help you?” the maid asked, looking surprised to see visitors.
Riley and Bill pulled out their badges and introduced themselves.
The maid’s eyes widened.
“Oh, my!” she said.
Bill said, “We need to talk to Adrienne McKinney.”
The maid shook her head.
“I’m sorry, but … Mrs. McKinney isn’t here.”
Riley felt a burst of alarm.
She was sure she’d seen the woman get out of her car and walk into her own house.
Bill said, “Ma’am, it’s illegal to lie to FBI agents.”
“I’m telling the truth,” the maid said.
“So where is Mrs. McKinney?” Jared asked, disobeying Riley’s order to keep his mouth shut.
The maid shrugged a little.
“I don’t know,” she said. “She just told me she was going out for a drive.”
Riley snapped, “But her car’s still in front of the house.”
“She took her van, like she often does,” the maid said. “She keeps it in the garage out back. There’s an exit to another street. She likes to take drives in the van at night.”
Riley demanded, “Can you describe the van? Do you know the license number?”
The maid stammered, “Y-yes, but … I’m not sure if I should …”
Bill spoke forcefully. “Ma’am, this is extremely urgent. An FBI matter. For both your sake and Mrs. McKinney’s, you’d really better cooperate.”
The maid hastily described the van—an ordinary white Ford—and recited the license plate number.
Bill had his cell phone out and was taking down
the information. Riley knew that he was forwarding it straight back to Quantico. But how long would it take for the FBI to get the local police mobilized to look for the car?
While Riley was puzzling over what to do next, her cell phone rang.
Once again, she saw that the call was from Van Roff.
When she answered, Roff said …
“I got something hot for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
As Adrienne crept softly and quietly through the house, she recognized a familiar change coming over her.
She no longer felt like the kindly woman who called herself Eris, that part of herself who comforted other suffering women in LifeGrasp meetings.
Her feelings of warmth and goodwill were giving way to …
Fury, she realized.
She could feel wrath beginning to flood her body.
She thought she became something different when she felt like this.
She was sure that she became one of those mythical Greek spirits of vengeance called Furies—wild, violent women who avenged terrible wrongs.
They were said to have snaky hair, like Medusa, and wings like bats.
She knew the Greek word for such a creature was Erinys.
That’s what I am now, she told herself.
An Erinys.
A Fury.
Like a true Fury, she had to sublimate her rage just enough to keep her head clear. The important thing was to carry out the task at hand.
To do that, she had to stay quiet and unnoticed, so she moved slowly through the silent house.
Although that poor woman who called herself Hecate hadn’t said much until today’s meeting, Adrienne had noticed her many small injuries. She had no doubt at all who had inflicted them.
So Adrienne had been preparing for tonight’s task for several days now.
She’d hacked municipal records to find this house’s blueprints, so she knew the interior well. And of course, she’d been fully prepared to hack the house’s security system from her van.
SafetyLinks! she thought with contempt.
Just like Harter’s house!
Didn’t people know how easy that system was to disable, even from afar?
She was pleased with how deftly she’d thwarted the system. The doors had unlocked on command. She’d found it easy to slip inside and locate an appropriate knife in the well-outfitted kitchen.
Now she would grant yet another woman the freedom that the Furies had granted her. That young man who had killed her husband hadn’t realized that he was setting her free. He’d thought he was acting out of his own grievances. But she was sure that Bradley Cruickshank had merely been a tool of the Furies, an unknowing male Erinys who had taken away her tormenter.
After Knox was gone, Adrienne had realized that she owed the Furies a debt of gratitude. She had to do for other women what that young man had done for her.
She moved across the open living area to the stairs and began to ease her way upward.
*
Riley hung on for dear life as Jared drove crazily through the streets.
She could see that Bill was similarly unnerved as he sat in the front passenger seat.
He was now on the phone, notifying the local police that a violent crime was likely in progress.
Jared had insisted on driving, and with good reason.
He knew the streets of Marshfield well enough to find the address they were looking for.
And they couldn’t get there a moment too soon.
Maybe it’s too late already, Riley thought.
She tried to push the thought out of her mind …
It can’t be. It just can’t be too late.
A few moments ago, Van Roff had told her what he’d done to be “creative.” He’d hacked into the security systems of the other two houses—not to disable them, but to monitor them.
And sure enough, the security system at one of the houses went down.
Roff was absolutely sure that it was the work of a skilled hacker.
Riley had tried calling the house to warn its occupants, but she’d only gotten an answering machine.
She snapped at Jared …
“Drive faster!”
Jared snapped back …
“Do you want to get there alive or what?”
As they neared the address, Riley saw that the house wasn’t as large as the other mansions, but it was impressive and comparatively tasteful. Sure enough, a white Ford van was parked on the street near the house.
There was still no sign of any police.
Riley tried to fight down her worry, but she couldn’t help but wonder …
Did the cops take Bill’s call seriously?
She also knew that suburban cops could sometimes be slow to answer emergencies, especially at night. But she thought they’d respond to a high-end neighborhood like this.
As Jared entered the driveway, Riley said to him, “Check the van, see if she still might be in there.”
Jared said, “OK, but what are you going to do?”
While the car was still in motion, Riley jumped out.
She heard Bill call out to her …
“Riley!”
But Riley was already running to the front entrance. She pushed the door, which opened easily. She found herself in a dimly lit, open, modern interior. No one was in sight.
Where should we look? she wondered.
Then she spotted a flight of stairs.
*
Adrienne moved down the wide upstairs hallway to where she knew two large bedrooms were located. The doors were on opposite sides of the hall.
She paused for a moment.
Hecate had mentioned a couple of meetings ago that she and her husband were now sleeping in separate bedrooms. The Erinys was sure that both the husband and wife were in their rooms asleep …
But which room is which?
Which one is he in?
She smiled, rather amused by her little conundrum.
It was nothing to get worried about, after all.
If she peeked through the wrong door and found the woman asleep, she’d simply sneak away to the other room.
She reached for the knob of the door on the left and gently turned it.
*
Harlan Ford wasn’t a deep sleeper, so he was easily awakened by the light footsteps moving across his bedroom floor.
He was pleased by the sound.
Nora slept in the bedroom across the hall these days, but …
She must have had a change of heart tonight.
She must have come over here to join him.
He’d been lying on his side facing away from the door. When the footsteps stopped at the edge of his bed, he turned over to greet her.
“Nora,” he said in a welcoming voice and holding out his hand. “Join me.”
But the silhouetted figure had raised her arm, and something metallic glinted in her hand.
Then the arm plunged down fast and he felt a sharp and shocking pain.
She’s gone crazy! he thought.
She wants to kill me!
*
Damn it! Adrienne thought as she landed a clumsy stab in the man’s shoulder muscles.
She hadn’t reckoned on having her prey wide awake.
The other men had been either fast asleep or deeply relaxed when she’d delivered the first blows that had incapacitated and subdued them.
She pulled the knife back and climbed onto the bed, prepared to lunge again.
“Nora!” the man cried. “What are you doing?”
Adrienne screeched back at him, “I’m not Nora. I’m an Erinys. I’m Nora’s avenger.”
The man was twisting and struggling wildly now.
His arms flailed, intercepting the swings of her knife, and although she knew that he must already be bleeding badly, she was displeased with how this was unfolding.
Nevertheless, she told herself …
In a few moments he’ll be dead.
That’s what matters
.
*
Nora snapped awake at the sound of her own name being shouted …
“Nora!”
… followed by words she couldn’t understand.
It was her husband. Yelling from across the hall in his bedroom.
Then she heard a woman’s voice roaring with anger.
What’s going on? Nora wondered.
She scrambled out of the bed and rushed out of her room into the hallway. She flung open the door that led into Harlan’s bedroom and switched on the light.
For a moment she was sure she was hallucinating. Her husband had often said she imagined things.
So had her therapist.
Could what she saw now really be happening?
Harlan had tumbled from the bed. He was writhing on the floor, bleeding badly.
A knife-wielding woman stood spread-eagle above him as if ready to strike, her face wild with hatred.
Nora recognized that mane of red hair.
All at once, she knew this was real.
“Eris!” Nora yelled.
The woman looked up, distracted by Nora’s voice.
Some of the hatred faded from her face and was replaced by sheer confusion.
Then she pointed the knife toward Nora.
“Stay back,” Adrienne hissed. “I’m not Eris now. I’m doing this for you.”
The look of hatred returned as she raised the knife again.
“No!” Nora yelled. “Eris, stop!”
The woman froze in place and stared back at her.
Nora felt a massive shock of realization.
She suddenly understood something terrible and heartbreaking.
The abuse she thought she’d suffered at her husband’s hands—he hadn’t done any of that at all.
He’d been trying to convince her of the truth all along, and so had Dr. Ridge.
The bruises, burns, cuts, and scratches …
I did them to myself!
And through it all, despite his own pain and confusion, Harlan hadn’t stopped giving her his love and support.
That realization gripped her with a feeling of shame and sorrow.
She burst into tears and screamed …
“Harlan never hurt me. He’s never hurt me once since I met him. He’s the kindest soul I’ve ever known.”