Once Shunned

by Blake Pierce

  Don’t do it.

  Then with a shaky voice she added, “And I know you can do it, Ryan. The man I married all those years ago is still in there. You’ve got the strength to start again.”

  Ryan said nothing, just stared at her with soft, sad eyes.

  Riley said, “You’ve got to go home now, Ryan. You do know that, don’t you?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Now a new problem occurred to her. How was she going to get Ryan out of the building without attracting the media’s attention?

  “Stay right here,” she told him.

  As she left the interrogation room, she saw that no one had been watching through the two-way mirror after all. It was just as well. The scene had been painful enough for her without having to face an audience afterward.

  She walked down the hall to the conference room, where she found Jenn and Bill in earnest discussion.

  Bill gave her a concerned look. “Is everything all right?”

  Riley wanted to say yes, but somehow she couldn’t get the word out.

  Instead she asked, “Where is Agent Sturman?”

  Jenn said, “He’s out in front of the building, trying to fix things with the media.”

  Riley felt a fleeting but welcome trace of relief. She was glad somebody was trying to clean up the terrible mess Ryan had just made.

  She stepped back into the hallway and saw that one of the young agents stationed there was approaching.

  Riley said to him, “Excuse me, but do you know a way out through the back of this building?”

  The agent nodded. Riley led him to the interrogation room, then called for Ryan to come on out. She instructed the agent to escort Ryan outside as quietly as possible. And she sternly advised Ryan to slip around the building and back to his car without attracting any attention.

  “No more interviews,” she said firmly.

  “No more nothing,” Ryan replied morosely.

  Obediently, he turned and followed the agent down the hallway.

  As she watched him walking away, Riley was struck by how bowed and broken her ex-husband looked from behind.

  She fought back tears again as she remembered the words she’d said to him in the interrogation room …

  “The man I married all those years ago is still in there. You’ve got the strength to start again.”

  But now she realized she’d been lying to Ryan—and possibly to herself. The man she’d thought she’d married had never existed. He’d been an illusion—a hollow, empty shell from the start.

  And now that shell was hopelessly broken.

  Riley shook off her grief and told herself …

  Get your head back in the game.

  You’ve got a job to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When Riley walked back through the FBI building, she saw that Jenn and Bill were standing with Agent Sturman outside the conference room, apparently waiting for her.

  Riley felt a surge of expectation.

  While she’d been talking with Ryan, Sturman had been dealing with the reporters.

  She hoped he’d managed to salvage the situation.

  “How did it go?” she asked him.

  Sturman replied, “As well as could be expected, I guess. Agent Jeffreys tells me that guy who made such a mess of things was your ex-husband. Just what the hell did he think he was doing out there?”

  Riley sighed guiltily and resisted the urge to say …

  “Crying for help.”

  Instead she said, “I’m sorry it happened, Agent Sturman. Ryan’s—well, he’s going through a rough time right now. He’s not thinking straight, I’m afraid. Not that that’s an excuse.”

  Sturman asked, “What was he doing confirming or denying anything about this case? I was about to have him arrested, but Agent Jeffreys assured me he was harmless.”

  Riley tried again to explain, “He was mostly just trying to make me look good.”

  When Sturman didn’t comment, she added, “He’s a lawyer.”

  Sturman frowned and asked, “Did he think he was working on this case?”

  “Actually he didn’t know anything about the case. He was just bouncing his replies off of the reporters’ hints and questions.”

  Sturman nodded. “They kept feeding me lines too. One of them said an anonymous source in the ME’s office told him an ice pick killer was at large.”

  Riley remembered Ryan mentioning the same thing. She said, “Well, Ryan didn’t give them any actual information because he didn’t know any.”

  Sturman shrugged and said, “Well, what’s done is done. No offense, Agent Paige, but I hope we’ve seen the last of your ex for a while.”

  No more than I do, Riley thought miserably.

  Sturman continued, “Naturally, the reporters kept asking whether Vincent Cranston had been murdered—and if so, whether he was killed by the same person who killed Robin Scoville a week ago and Ron Donovan just this morning. I kept saying ‘no comment,’ of course. What else could I say?”

  Bill said, “Sounds like a mix of anonymous leaks and pure speculation.”

  “Right,” Sturman said. “I’ll make sure that ME Kinkaid knows about what happened. If I know Kinkaid, he’ll find the leaker soon and kick him the hell off his team. Anyway, I didn’t confirm the ice pick thing one way or the others, but I’m sure the reporters believe it already and are going to go with it. In fact, it’s probably all over the Internet already.”

  Looking thoroughly dismayed, Jenn said, “That’s bad. Ice picks are sure to scare the public. That’s why the mob liked them back in the old days, and why gangs still like them now. I’m afraid we’ll have a widespread panic on our hands.”

  Sturman chuckled a little and said, “I don’t think so. At least I was able to tell them we’ve got a likely suspect in custody and the killings are probably over. That ought to keep the public reasonably calm.”

  Riley started at those words …

  “… a likely suspect …”

  “… the killings are probably over …”

  Had Sturman made up his mind that Bruno Young was definitely their killer?

  For that matter, what did Bill and Jenn think?

  Before their meeting had been interrupted by Ryan’s arrival, Riley had sensed that Bill was pretty confident about Young’s guilt. She hadn’t been able to tell exactly what Jenn had thought.

  Sturman shuffled his feet and exchanged glances with Riley and her two colleagues.

  “Look, the three of you have been a great help. I’m pretty sure your work is done as far as this case is concerned. It’s up to my team and the forensics guys from here on in, to check out Bruno Young’s alibis and scour the ice pick for DNA samples. I’ll be surprised if they don’t come up with pretty solid proof that Young’s the killer. You guys go ahead, go back to Quantico, get a well-deserved rest.”

  Riley was about to voice her disagreement when Bill gave her a nudge and said quietly …

  “Come on, Riley. Let’s all three of us get out of here.”

  Riley stifled a sigh. She knew that Bill was right, of course. It was never a good idea to argue with local authorities when they said it was time to leave. She said goodbye to Agent Sturman and followed Bill and Jenn through the back entrance where Ryan had left. They made their way around the building to their borrowed car without being noticed by reporters.

  *

  Riley and her colleagues said little during the short drive back to Wilburton. She sensed that all of them felt vaguely unsure of how they would be leaving things in Connecticut.

  It was dinnertime by the time they got back to the Ramsey Inn, so they went straight to the restaurant and ordered another delicious seafood meal. As they waited for their food, Bill looked at Riley and Jenn and said one single word …

  “Thoughts?”

  Riley felt relieved that they were finally going to clear the air.

  Jenn said, “I guess it really looks like Bruno Young is our killer. I mean, all the evidence poi
nts that way, but …”

  She hesitated, then shrugged and added …

  “But I don’t feel like I’ve got much business offering an opinion. After all, I was pretty much convinced that Wesley Mannis was our killer. Then that fisherman was murdered, and we knew that Wesley wasn’t anywhere near where it happened, let alone in any kind of mental condition to commit a murder. I was flat-out wrong.”

  Riley leaned toward Jenn and said, “Remember what I told you, Jenn. We’ve got to keep coming up with ideas, even when they’re wrong. Tell us what you’re thinking right now.”

  Jenn inhaled slowly, then said, “I don’t know. But Bruno feels like the wrong guy to me somehow. I can’t put my finger on just why. It’s just a gut feeling, I guess.”

  Riley breathed a little easier to learn that Jenn was nearly on her own wavelength.

  “What about you, Bill?” Riley asked.

  Bill took a sip of his beer and thought for a moment.

  Then he said, “I could go either way. But he sure acted guilty during our interrogation. And he really began to panic when we started talking about the murder victims. That’s usually a sign of guilt.”

  A word Bill had just said caught Riley’s attention.

  Panic.

  She felt a sharp tingle as her own feelings started to come into focus.

  She spoke slowly and cautiously …

  “You’re right, Bill. Bruno started to panic. And I don’t think our killer is the kind of guy who panics—about anything.”

  Bill looked at her with interest. He asked, “Does this have to do with the impressions you got at the crime scenes?”

  Riley nodded and said, “Think about it, Bill—the icy coolness it must take to approach someone with an ice pick and drive it cleanly into the softest part of the human skull—a small target if ever there was one, but he never missed. And all three victims were perfectly conscious and alert. You’d need a steady hand, and a steadier temperament. Does Bruno Young strike you as that kind of a man?”

  Bill tilted his head and said, “When you put it that way, I’ve got to say no. He’s a typical recovering junkie—defensive, deceptive, and as nervous as hell.”

  Bill took another sip of his beer, then added …

  “Anyway, Riley, I learned ages ago to trust your instincts. They’re very rarely wrong. If you think Bruno’s not our killer, my guess is you’re probably right.”

  Jenn asked, “So where does that leave us?”

  Bill let out a low growl of discouragement and said, “Exactly where we started. We’ve got nothing tangible to prove Bruno isn’t the killer—nothing to persuade Agent Sturman or anybody else we should stay in Connecticut. Now if we’re right, forensics is likely to bear us out. His ice pick won’t have a trace of blood on it, and it will be obvious it was never used as a murder weapon. But until then …”

  Bill’s voice trailed off, but Riley knew what he was leaving unsaid.

  We’ve got to go back to Quantico.

  We’ve got no choice.

  Bill messaged Special Agent in Charge Brent Meredith that they’d be on their way back tomorrow, and they’d give him a full report. He asked Meredith to have a plane ready for them in the morning at the Tweed–New Haven Regional Airport for their flight back.

  Over dessert, the three of them decided that they’d return their borrowed vehicle to the Wilburton police station early in the morning, then ask Chief Brennan to have somebody drive them to the airport.

  Finally, they finished eating and returned to their rooms.

  Riley sat on the edge of her bed, trying to piece things together in her mind. It was of some comfort to know that she, Bill, and Jenn had much the same opinion about the status of the case. Even so, there was nothing they could do except go back to Quantico and wait for forensics to prove, as they probably would, that Bruno Young had nothing to do with the murders.

  Then they’d surely fly back to Connecticut in a hurry.

  Riley shuddered deeply as she wondered …

  Is the killer going to strike again in the meantime?

  It was a race against time—a race that she, Bill, and Jenn weren’t even allowed to run in, at least not until the forensics team finished its work.

  Meanwhile, Riley’s nerves were on edge, her breathing was quick, her muscles were tight all over, and her senses were uncomfortably keen.

  I’m having a fight-or-flight response.

  She’d been in this situation many times over the years—braced and ready for action, but with no course of action to take. She hated this feeling.

  As she tried to put such thoughts out of her mind, she realized it was time to call home and check in on how things were going there.

  As she picked up her cell phone, she suddenly remembered what Ryan had told her about how he’d found out she was in Connecticut.

  “OK, if you must know, Jilly told me.”

  Riley groaned with discouragement.

  Jilly!

  She hadn’t given it any thought until now, but …

  Why would Jilly do such a thing?

  Riley felt a flash of anger. She was afraid if she called home right now, she’d start yelling at Jilly. With a scowl she thought …

  Jilly deserves it.

  She knows better than to do something like that.

  But why had she done it?

  Riley also remembered Ryan saying …

  “She meant well. I think she wants us to get back together.”

  Riley gasped as she wondered—could that be true? She remembered the last two times Ryan had been at home, and both girls had been cold to him to the point of being rude. It would never have occurred to Riley that Jilly still wished Ryan could be her father.

  But had Riley been wrong? Jilly had become very attached to Ryan when he’d lived with them for a short time.

  Riley now wondered whether she should make the call at all. What kind of a confrontation might she have with Jilly? Could Riley deal with such drama, with everything else that was on her mind? Might it be better to just wait and deal with things when she got home tomorrow?

  No, Riley decided. I’ve got to do it now. This is my family.

  The phone shook in her hands as she made the call. Then she heard April’s voice.

  “Mom! I’m glad you called! Something’s really wrong!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Riley was terrified by the sound of desperation in her daughter’s voice.

  “What is it, April?” she asked.

  “It’s Jilly. She’s locked up in her room. She won’t talk to anybody.”

  Riley could scarcely breathe now. Less than a month ago, she’d found that her younger daughter had been cutting herself out of feelings of unworthiness. With the help of a therapist and good mother-daughter conversation, they seemed to have gotten past that.

  She managed to gasp, “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” April said. “Neither does Gabriela. It started just a little while ago when we were all watching the news on TV in the family room. A reporter started talking about some murder case in Connecticut—something to do with a serial ice pick killer. And then—oh, Mom, I thought I’d gone crazy or was dreaming or something, but …”

  April hesitated, but Riley was pretty sure she knew what was coming next.

  “They ran a tape of Dad, and he was standing right in front of the FBI building in New Haven, talking to reporters about the case! Then we got just a glimpse of you pulling Dad away from the reporters and into the building. Mom, what was Dad doing there, anyway?”

  Riley didn’t want to explain all that right now.

  Instead she said, “What about Jilly?”

  “Well, Jilly freaked out when she saw Dad on TV. She ran out of the family room and all the way upstairs. We heard the door to her room slam up there. Gabriela and I have both been trying to get her to open the door and let us in and tell us what’s wrong. But she just keeps telling us to go away. We keep hearing her sobbing in there.” />
  Riley’s heart felt like it would fall right through the floor.

  This is worse than I’d imagined, she thought.

  She said to April, “We can’t let her shut herself up alone. Could you tell her I’m on the phone and want to talk to her?”

  “I’ll try, Mom.”

  Riley could hear April’s footsteps as she carried the phone through the upstairs hall to Jilly’s room. She heard April knock gently on the door and say …

  “Jilly, Mom’s on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”

  Riley heard Jilly’s muffled reply from inside her room.

  “I can’t talk to her.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t talk to her?” April asked.

  “I just can’t. Not right now.”

  Riley heard April heave a deep sigh, then say …

  “Jilly, you’ve got to talk to somebody. If you won’t talk to me or Gabriela, then somebody. I really think you should talk to Mom. She’s really worried about you.”

  A silence fell. Then came the sound of Jilly’s door opening.

  Riley heard Jilly say, “April, I’ve got to talk to her alone.”

  April said, “OK,” and Riley heard Jilly’s room door closing again.

  Jilly let out a couple of sobs and said, “Oh, Mom, I really screwed up. I did something terrible. It’s all my fault.”

  “What’s all your fault?” Riley said.

  “We saw him on TV,” Jilly said. “Da … Ryan.”

  Riley realized that Jilly was now unable to call him “Dad.” She’d started calling him that when they were all living together, but Ryan had let Jilly down too many times now.

  April and Gabriela and me, we all saw him. I’m sure you didn’t want him to be there, and I could see how he made a mess of things. And it was my fault he went there. You see, I …”

  Jilly swallowed hard and added, “I told him you were in Connecticut.”

  Riley said, “I know you did, sweetie. He actually told me that. How did it happen?”

  “He called the house, and I answered the phone, and he sounded … well, he sounded bad, that’s all, like something was really wrong. He said something had come up, and he needed to find you and talk to you, and it was really, really urgent. I had no idea he was going to up to Connecticut and act like …”