Once Lured

by Blake Pierce

  “Yeah,” the owner said. “I think the way she talked sounded Irish.”

  The agents all glanced at each other.

  “Thanks so much,” Riley said to the man and the woman. Then she led her colleagues aside.

  “That explains it,” Riley said. “Meara Keagan came in here at least once for lunch. Then came the trauma of her captivity. When Ralston hypnotized her, her memories got mixed up. She thought she’d been held captive here.”

  Walder stared into space for a moment.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’ll just have Ralston give it another try.”

  Riley’s mouth dropped open.

  “With all due respect, sir—” she began.

  “Respect seems to be in pretty short supply, Agent Paige,” Walder barked. “I ordered you off the case. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

  Riley knew she ought to shut up, but she just couldn’t.

  “You’re making a big mistake, sir.”

  “Nobody wants your input, Paige.”

  Riley felt her face flush with anger. She clenched her fists at her sides.

  “Damn it, sir, Ralston’s a quack! He sent us on a wild goose chase. If he hypnotizes Meara again, he’s just going to get more false memories. We don’t have time to go chasing after more bad leads.”

  Walder was seething.

  “What the hell are you even doing here? I ordered you to go back to BAU, and I meant it. But here you are, interfering in this investigation.”

  “Interfering!” Riley gasped with disbelief.

  Walder barked, “Agent Paige, at this moment, your whole future with the Bureau is hanging by a thread. You get out of my sight. Right now. Do it, or I’ll take your badge and your gun. And the next time I hear from you, you’d better be nowhere near Delaware.”

  Riley was shaking all over with rage. There was a whole lot more that she wanted to say. But she knew that Walder was always at his worst when his vanity was wounded. And his vanity had taken a real body blow just now. For him, the worst part had to be knowing that he was wrong and that Riley was right. But he’d never admit it. And Riley knew better than to push him any further.

  She turned around and walked out of the restaurant. She strode past the baffled onlookers and got into her car. She sat at the wheel for a moment, trying to decide where to go or what to do.

  All she knew for sure was that she wasn’t going back to Virginia. Not now, when women’s lives were at stake, and Walder was making a mess of things. It was up to her to track down the killer once and for all.

  She started the car and took the Six O’clock Highway back to Ohlman.

  *

  Riley spent the rest of the day wandering through the tiny little town, hoping for her gut instincts to kick in. But her mind kept coming up empty. Ohlman looked as innocent and innocuous as any town she’d ever seen. She knew that cops had canvassed the area without finding a trace of the killer.

  Why do I think I can do any better? she thought miserably.

  Night fell, and despair really started to kick in. Starting with her drive from Fredericksburg that morning, she’d passed a long, discouraging, and tiring day. She worried that her judgment was about to fail her. But she couldn’t give up. Not now.

  As the darkness deepened, Riley found herself walking along the Six O’clock Highway right on the edge of town. There wasn’t a car in sight. Somewhere along here, she knew, Meara had been hit by the drunk driver. Whatever Walder’s opinion might be right now, Riley still felt sure that Meara had been held captive near here.

  If so, the killer was nearby. Probably right now. But what was he doing? What was he thinking?

  Riley thought back to what Meara Keagan had told her in the hospital, back before Ralston had been brought in to hypnotize her. She’d remembered being held in a cage, where she and other girls were beaten and starved.

  For whatever reason, the killer kept the girls alive for a time before killing them. He also seemed to keep more than one of them at any given time.

  Riley wondered if he might be looking for another captive right now. Maybe he needed to replace Nicole, whom he’d killed, and Meara, who had escaped.

  Riley mulled the possibility over. She remembered that Nicole DeRose Ehrhardt had been abducted right along this highway. So had at least two of the killer’s younger victims, probably while hitchhiking.

  A crazy, desperate idea started to form in her mind.

  Just then she saw approaching headlights in the distance. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, hoping that she might look like any ordinary hitchhiker.

  Of course, Riley knew that she couldn’t pass as one of the teenagers the clock killer had taken. And she’d never been as skinny as Nicole DeRose Ehrhardt. But it was chilly out, and maybe her jacket and cap might conceal the fact that she was much too robust for the killer’s taste.

  The car slowed as it came toward her, then stopped just ahead of her. Riley’s pulse quickened as she trotted up to the car. Then she saw that the driver was an elderly woman.

  The woman leaned over to the window.

  “Honey, you shouldn’t be out here,” she said with concern. “Hitchhiking’s illegal, you know. Besides, it’s especially dangerous these days. Haven’t you heard about the killer that’s loose around these parts? Anyway, get in. I’ll take you someplace safe.”

  “It’s okay,” Riley said evasively. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  The woman gasped in disbelief.

  “The rest of the way where? Lord, girl, didn’t you hear what I said? It’s dangerous out here.”

  Riley pulled out her badge.

  “It’s okay, ma’am,” she said. “I’m looking for the killer.”

  The woman looked a bit confused.

  “But shouldn’t you have someone with you? A partner or something?”

  Riley smiled ironically. Yes, of course she should have someone with her—at least within hearing distance. But that wasn’t an option right now.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “Please move along now.”

  “Good luck,” the woman said. She rolled up her window and drove away.

  A moment later, there wasn’t a car in sight. Riley knew that she was going to need more than a little luck tonight.

  *

  Scratch drove along the Six O’clock Highway with low expectations and a sinking spirit. He had only one captive left back in the shelter—the one whose name he thought was Kimberly. Grandpa still wasn’t happy with her. Even after weeks of near-starvation, she just wasn’t skinny enough.

  Besides, Grandpa kept saying that they needed two more girls in addition to Kimberly.

  “Three more hours, three more girls,” he kept telling Scratch.

  The pressure was unbearable. Scratch was painfully aware of the importance of the mission. The future of humanity depended on Grandpa’s message getting through. It looked less and less likely that it was going to happen. And of course, it was all Scratch’s fault.

  But the worst part of it all was the loneliness. How long had it been, Scratch wondered, since anyone in the world had said a single kind word to him? Grandpa was always cruel, and always had been. But lately, Grandpa had been saying less and less, which felt even worse. Scratch had always known he was worthless. But what was he going to do if even Grandpa decided he was too worthless even to abuse and insult?

  Soon, most of the human race would be dead. Maybe there wouldn’t be anybody left alive at all. What would life be like for Scratch, all alone in that gray place, all alone in the whole wide world, without even Grandpa to talk to?

  Scratch still clung to a desperate hope that maybe one more girl would be left alive, and that she’d find it in her heart to care about him after the destruction came.

  But he kept remembering those words of Grandpa’s.

  “Three more hours, three more girls.”

  Three more girls had to die. If he wanted a girl of his own, a girl to keep, he’d have to catch three more girls
, in addition to the girl he thought was named Kimberly. And girls were getting scarce. Scratch couldn’t turn on the TV or the radio or check the Internet without seeing warnings about Delaware’s “clock killer.” Girls all through the area were on their guard.

  He didn’t know how much time he had left, but he knew that time was running out.

  Just then, his headlights fell upon a human figure walking along the side of the road. At first, he couldn’t tell much about who it might be. In chilly weather like this, the person was pretty well bundled up.

  But then the person turned around to face him. Scratch’s heart quickened and his spirits rose. It was a woman, all right. And now she held out her arm and stuck out her thumb.

  A hitcher! he thought.

  As he slowed his car, he reached behind his seat to make sure that the length of two-by-four was ready. It seemed a shame that he’d have to knock her out cold. He really wished he could talk with her a little. He really was so terribly lonely.

  But now was no time to take chances. He had a terrible duty to fulfill.

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  The headlights blazed in Riley’s face as the car slowed toward her. Whoever was driving wasn’t bothering to dim their lights. She had to shield her eyes. By the time the car slowed to a stop beside her, she was nearly blinded.

  Riley could hear the passenger window roll down. Then she heard the driver’s voice.

  “Where are you headed?”

  Riley couldn’t really see the driver, but it was a man’s voice.

  “Ohlman,” Riley said.

  She heard him chuckle a bit.

  “Me too,” he said. “We’re practically there already. Hop in.”

  Her vision still full of bright spots, Riley groped her way into the car. She wished she could get a good look at the driver. But it was going to take a few moments for her eyes to adjust.

  “Where are you coming from?” the man asked.

  “Westree,” Riley lied.

  The man said nothing. The bright spots started to go away, and Riley’s vision got clearer. Once again, she remembered Meara’s description—medium height, strong build, dark hair, brown eyes.

  The man at the wheel fit that description perfectly. But then, so had the owner of the restaurant. So did a lot of men.

  “Hey, you must be pretty cold,” the man said. “I’ve got some hot tea in a thermos.”

  Keeping his left hand on the wheel, he reached back between the seats with his right. Riley remembered that Meara said her captor had knocked her out cold.

  Before the driver could grab whatever he was reaching for, Riley pulled out her gun and pointed it at him.

  “Put your hand back on the wheel,” she said.

  The man let out a yelp of alarm and quickly obeyed.

  “Jesus, okay! Okay!”

  Holding the gun steady, Riley looked back between the seats, trying to see what the man might have been reaching for. It was too dark for her to make anything out.

  “I have a little cash on me,” the man said. “Not much, I just got back from a trip. But if you’ll just let me reach for my wallet—”

  “This isn’t a holdup,” Riley said.

  With her free hand she pulled out her badge and showed it to him. The man looked thoroughly dumbstruck.

  “Drive me straight to the Ohlman police station,” Riley said.

  The man drove on without saying another word.

  *

  In only a few minutes, the man parked the car in front of the police station. Riley held the gun on him as they entered the station. A couple of cops were standing in the front area. The huskier of the two called out, “Hey, Rufus! What’s going on?”

  His hands still raised, the man shrugged nervously.

  “I’m getting brought in by the FBI, I guess,” he said.

  “Do you know this man?” Riley said to the huskier cop.

  The cop chuckled.

  “Sure, I do. This is Rufus Crim.”

  The thinner cop added, “We’ve all known each other since we were little. Hey, what’s going on?”

  Riley felt more unsure of herself by the moment. A fresh wave of exhaustion swept over her, and again she wondered whether her judgment might be off. Still, she was sure that the killer was likely to be somebody that everybody in Ohlman knew.

  Bill burst into the front area from inside the station.

  “Riley!” he yelled. “What the hell is going on?”

  “This might be our killer,” Riley said.

  The huskier cop chuckled again.

  “Not a chance,” he said. “Rufus hasn’t been anywhere near here for three weeks or more.”

  Riley turned to the man and asked, “Is this true?”

  “Yeah,” Rufus said. “I’ve been down in Miami, visiting relatives. I flew into Philadelphia today, then drove down here from there. I can show you the tickets. What’s this all about, anyway?”

  Bill let out a groan of frustration.

  “For Chrissake, let him go, Riley,” Bill said. “He’s not our man.”

  Riley holstered her weapon, feeling crushed and embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” she told Rufus. “I’m really sorry.”

  Bill took Riley aside and said to her quietly, “What’s the matter with you? Have you lost your mind?”

  Riley said nothing. She more than half-wondered the same thing.

  “Walder’s going to suspend you for sure,” Bill said.

  “Is he here?” Riley asked.

  “No, but we just called him, and he’s on his way over from his motel,” Bill said. “Another girl was just taken captive. Come on. Lucy’s interviewing her boyfriend.”

  Bill and Riley hurried down the hall to the conference room, where Lucy was already talking to a distraught-looking teenager. They sat down at the table with Lucy and the boy.

  Lucy told them, “This is Russell Bingham. His girlfriend, Mallory Byrd, was abducted a little while ago. He just started telling me what happened.”

  Russell was a scrawny, long-haired kid with downy fuzz on his chin. He was trembling all over.

  “Mallory and I were out hitchhiking,” he said. “I know it was stupid, but we thought it would be fun. We live up in Bowdon, and some friends of ours were having a party here in Ohlman. So we spent the day hitching down the Six O’clock Highway. We figured out pretty soon that drivers—guys, anyway—were more likely to stop if they thought Mallory was alone. I’d stay out of sight off the road, and then when somebody stopped for her, I’d get in too.”

  He paused for a moment, shaking more than before.

  “Well, it got dark, and we were pretty close to Ohlman, and I was out of sight behind some bushes and Mallory was standing by the road when a car pulled up. I could hear the driver’s voice telling Mallory to get in, and he sounded nice and all. I stepped out from hiding, and Mallory had already gotten in. She was opening the back door for me. But when the guy got a look at me …”

  He shuddered deeply.

  “Well, he started driving, and I tried to jump for the back door, which was still open. The car grazed me as it went by and knocked me down, and I heard Mallory screaming. Both the doors hung swinging open, but I guess the car was going too fast for Mallory to jump out.”

  He clenched his hands together anxiously.

  “Anyway, there I was lying on the ground, and as soon as I could, I called the cops on my cell phone.”

  Lucy gently put in, “You didn’t get the license plate? The make of the car?”

  Russell Bingham shook his head.

  “I should’ve,” he said. “I was just so shaken up.”

  “We understand,” Lucy said. “Give me a moment to talk with my colleagues alone.”

  The boy nodded. Lucy led Bill and Riley out into the hallway.

  “Did the girl have a cell phone?” Riley asked. “Couldn’t it be tracked?”

  “We tried that already,” Lucy said. “The cell phone was found on the shoulder of the highway. The d
river must have thrown it out of the car after he’d gotten away with the girl.”

  Before Riley could ask Lucy any more questions, she heard an angry shout down the hall.

  “Special Agent Riley Paige!”

  Carl Walder was striding toward her, looking angrier than she’d ever seen him.

  “I heard about the stunt you just pulled, bringing in an innocent man,” he barked.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Walder said. He held out his hand. “You’re suspended. And if I have my way, you’ll never serve on the Bureau again. Give me your badge and your gun, right now.”

  Riley was horrified but not surprised. Without a word, she gave him her badge and her gun.

  “Now I want you to get away from here,” Walder said. “I don’t give a damn where you go, as long as it’s far away.”

  “I’ll do that, sir,” Riley said through clenched teeth.

  She walked rapidly down the hall toward the front entrance. Bill raced to catch up with her.

  “Riley, I told you—”

  Riley didn’t stop walking.

  “I know, I know,” Riley said. “I was an idiot. You’d better get back there and away from me if you want to keep your job.”

  “But what are you going to do now?”

  Riley didn’t reply. The truth was, she had no idea. She stormed out the front door, leaving Bill behind, and headed straight to her car. She got into the driver’s seat and just sat there, trying to think things through. She’d been on the move all day, so she didn’t even have a motel room to go back to.

  Walder’s words rattled through her brain.

  “And if I have my way, you’ll never serve on the Bureau again.”

  She had to fight back the tears. Her attempt to serve as bait to catch the killer had failed. But now that she had a moment to think about it, it was more a case of bad luck than stupidity. The killer had, in fact, been out looking for a victim. He’d just happened to pick up Mallory Byrd instead.