Blake Pierce - The Making of Riley Paige - 4 - Taking

by Blake Pierce

  Should he just come out and admit it to Riley?

  Maybe he should just flat-out tell her the truth—that one of the reasons

  he’d taken her on as a partner was his own feeling of exhaustion, his worry

  that it was time to put away his badge and retire from the BAU. He’d wanted

  to make sure that someone with his own talents would be ready to take his

  place.

  But he couldn’t tell her all of that yet.

  She wasn’t ready.

  And maybe the BAU wasn’t ready for Riley either. Even though Special

  Agent in Charge Erik Lehl was usually supportive, he didn’t yet understand

  what Jake and Riley could do.

  It wasn’t Lehl’s fault. The man was perfectly competent. But how could

  anyone without this ability to see into a killer’s mind understand how it

  worked—how randomly, how spontaneously those insights came? And how

  difficult they could be to understand?

  Even worse, Riley might be partnered with someone who would try to

  “shape her up” and make her like other agents.

  No, he couldn’t leave until Riley was strong enough, secure enough with her abilities, to do this job without him.

  Meanwhile, his question, “What are we going to do?” was still

  unanswered.

  Jake took a long, slow breath and said, “For starters, before we go

  anywhere else I think we should get out of these stupid shorts.”

  He was relieved to hear Riley give a brief laugh.

  They took turns changing clothes in the motor home bathroom, and soon

  they both looked like FBI agents again, with their holstered guns in place.

  Theirs was now the only vehicle pulled off on the side of the road. The

  Highway Patrol had left, and they still hadn’t made a decision about what

  they should do next.

  Jake poked into the RVs refrigerator and found some leftovers they’d

  never finished. He pulled them out and put them on the table, then slid into

  one of the seats.

  “Water?” Riley asked.

  He nodded and she poured two glasses and took the seat across from him.

  He took a drink of water, and then asked, “What about a profile? We

  haven’t discussed that much. What do you think you can tell us about the

  killer?”

  He watched as Riley stared out the window for a moment. He could tell

  that her capable mind was clicking away looking for an answer to his

  question. He felt a renewed pang of admiration for his young protégé.

  Then she said, “He’s rich, I think we can be pretty sure of that. I mean,

  he’s got some kind of big, expensive motor home all to himself. He’s driving

  it to resort campgrounds all over the Southwest, and he’s got time to do it in.

  He’s got to be really well off.”

  Jake nodded and waited for her to say more.

  She said, “We also know he’s a misogynist who loves to make women feel

  helpless and terrified when he’s killing them. If he’s a high-profile, public

  sort of personality, he’s probably got some kind of reputation to that effect. I doubt there are any actual police records of spousal abuse or rape or assault—

  with his money, he can get away with just about anything. But things like that

  might show up in his divorce papers. And he’s probably been married and

  divorced quite a few times. It also might be general public knowledge that he

  behaves badly toward women. Maybe even a few tabloid stories.”

  Jake was pleased by what he was hearing so far. Of course, it was completely speculative, and Riley might even be entirely wrong. But since he

  didn’t have any ideas of his own, he was willing to consider anything she

  might have to say.

  Riley squinted hard and said, “I’m having trouble thinking of anything

  else.”

  Fortunately, Jake had an idea of how to coach her along.

  “You just said he can get away with anything with his money,” he said.

  “What does that tell you?”

  Riley looked at him and said, “It tells me he’s arrogant. He thinks he’s

  superior and entitled. And he just naturally assumes that justice is never

  going to catch up with him. Actually, he thinks justice is on his side. He

  thinks he’s got a perfect right to do awful things to other people. He’s above

  criticism, and above the law. And so far he’s usually been right.”

  Jake added, “A rich sociopath, then?”

  “I think so,” Riley said. “Which means he’s also charming, especially

  toward his victims, and also toward anyone who might start suspecting him.”

  Riley thought for a moment, then added …

  “But I think but there’s one big difference between him and most

  sociopaths. Murder isn’t a game for him. It’s … it’s more like a leisure

  activity, like fishing or hiking. This really and truly is like a vacation as far as he’s concerned …”

  Riley’s voice trailed away. She fell quiet again, but Jake sensed that an

  idea was growing in her mind.

  Then she looked him straight in the eyes and said …

  “Agent Crivaro, we’ve got to go north.”

  Jake was startled. He hadn’t expected her to say anything like this.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Riley leaned toward him. “Do you remember what Sergeant Gray said

  about the guy they let go—the only guy they pulled over who was traveling

  all by himself? I think it was him after all.”

  Jake squinted hard and said, “But Gray said they checked the bathroom.”

  “I know, but maybe Sergeant Gray remembers the search wrong. Maybe

  they didn’t get around to that bathroom. After all, they got in kind of a rush

  while they had him there. Then they suddenly got that other name, Hunter,

  and a license number to look for. There was no reason to think they should

  pay more attention to the RV they were searching. Besides, Gray probably hasn’t dealt with a real sociopath before. In a rush like that, the killer could have made him believe just about anything.”

  Jake stroked his chin and said, “Including that Gray’s men had searched

  the RV more thoroughly than they really had?”

  “I think maybe so.”

  Jake shook his head and murmured softly, “Riley, I don’t know. It sounds

  to me like you’re reaching. And anyway, if you’re right about it being a guy

  they let go, he got away without leaving much information about himself. All

  we know is that he’s driving a big Winnebago with a red stripe along the

  side. God knows how many vehicles there are exactly like it on the road. We

  can’t exactly put out an APB with so little to go on.”

  Riley nodded and said, “That’s why we’ve got to go after him ourselves.

  It’s up to us, nobody else.”

  “But why should we head north after him?” Jake said. “We don’t even

  know where he’s going.”

  Riley smiled, her eyes bright with excitement.

  “Oh, I think we do,” she said. “He told Gray he was on his way to the

  Crayfish Creek Campground up around Bryce Canyon.”

  “And you think he wasn’t lying?” Jake said.

  “That’s exactly what I think,” Riley sad. “It’s like I was just saying, he’s arrogant and sure of himself. He didn’t bother to lie. He enjoyed the risk—

  and he didn’t even think it was a very big risk, considering all the really huge risks he’s been takin
g lately. He didn’t figure anyone was going to follow

  him.”

  Jake sat thinking it over silently. He couldn’t quite convince himself that

  Riley was onto something.

  In a more urgent voice, Riley added, “Agent Crivaro, I don’t have

  anywhere near the field experience you do. But I’ve studied a lot about

  sociopathic killers at the Academy. And I know they’re almost always too

  confident for their own good. Sooner or later, they trip themselves up. And I

  think that’s what’s happening right now. He’s given us a glimpse of how his

  mind works.”

  Jake crinkled his brow as he struggled with what he was hearing. He

  reminded himself how he’d been feeling—completely burnt out, with no idea

  of how to proceed.

  And the truth was, he still didn’t have any ideas.

  He couldn’t help but wonder …

  Am I in any state of mind to question Riley’s instincts?

  After all, her gut had been right at times when his own gut was wrong.

  And right now his own gut wasn’t giving him anything at all to work with.

  The choice seemed to be to either follow Riley’s gut and at least drive

  somewhere, or sit right here for God knew how long wondering what to do

  next.

  But maybe what mattered most was that he still owed her for his cruel

  outburst a few moments ago—and he owed her a lot more than an apology.

  I owe her a chance to follow her gut, no matter whether she’s right or

  wrong.

  And if she proved to be wrong—well, mistakes were part of the learning

  process.

  Jake nodded slowly and said, “OK, we’ll try it your way.”

  Riley grinned and clapped her hands with gratitude.

  Jake added, “But since this is your idea, it’s your turn to drive this damn

  tub.”

  Riley scrambled up, cleared away the remains of their snack, then fairly

  bounded to the RV cab and into the driver’s seat.

  Still feeling tired and discouraged, Jake climbed into the passenger seat.

  As Riley pulled out onto the road, he still couldn’t help thinking they were

  following a blind alley.

  Even so, he knew perfectly well …

  It’s the only “alley” we’ve got.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Until he felt sure that the roadblock was safely behind him, the man kept

  driving without giving much thought to where he was headed. He’d passed

  by Flagstaff without incident, and nobody on the highway seemed to be

  following him, or paying any attention to him at all.

  Not that there’s anything to worry about, he kept telling himself.

  He’d handled the Highway Patrol sergeant with his usual charm and

  finesse, and the troopers’ search of his RV had been perfunctory at best.

  There had been one scary moment, though, when his conversation with the

  sergeant had been interrupted by a phone call. The sergeant had gotten out of

  the RV to take the call and seemed to be hearing some kind of breaking

  information. The man had wondered whether he was about to be identified

  after all.

  But as soon as the call ended, the sergeant had waved him through,

  wishing him happy camping. The man still had no idea what the phone call

  had been about. Maybe some unfortunate sucker had gotten identified by

  mistake.

  Anyway, he’d gotten clear of it with little trouble. But he was annoyed

  with himself for letting the whole incident alarm him. Was he ever going to

  be able to put the vestigial panic from his childhood behind him?

  He reminded himself that soon he’d have to make a decision.

  Would he turn west and head toward the South Rim of the Grand Canyon,

  as most tourists on this road would do? Or would he instead connect with the

  route east, back to Colorado?

  The question was, would he continue his vacation and his recreational

  activities? Or would he just head home?

  It was getting late in the day, and he hadn’t eaten since morning, so it

  seemed like a good time to stop and consider his options. He exited off the

  interstate and pulled into a truck stop parking lot. It looked like a clean place, so he parked his RV and then went inside the restaurant and ordered coffee

  and a sandwich.

  As he sat waiting for his food, he sipped his coffee and wondered …

  What next?

  He really hadn’t planned his killings at all to speak of. The last two had

  depended entirely on more or less chance encounters with trusting women.

  He’d assumed that he’d just keep right on driving and killing for as long as he enjoyed it.

  But now, he wasn’t so sure.

  He knew himself to be an intelligent man, and it wouldn’t be smart to push

  his luck too far. And maybe the last killing back in Sedona had been far

  enough. He smiled at the memory of the woman’s screams, audible even

  through the soundproofing of his makeshift kill room.

  That murder had been all the more satisfying because the victim had

  trusted him even more than the others. He recalled how, after they’d dashed

  out of the rain to his RV, she’d shyly asked him whether he thought maybe

  they’d been destined to meet. And he’d replied that, yes, indeed he thought

  maybe so.

  Less than half an hour later, she was dead.

  He chuckled softly. Just thinking about it made him feel good.

  The whole thing couldn’t have gone better. Even the rain had let up at just

  the right moment for him to carry her body back out onto the trail and leave it exactly where he’d encountered her.

  It was perfect, he thought.

  He sighed wistfully. Future killings would surely be satisfying. But it

  wasn’t likely that any would go so flawlessly, so beautifully, as that last one.

  In fact, they’d probably feel somewhat disappointing …

  On top of being risky.

  Was it really worth the likely emotional letdown? And did he even really

  need to kill anymore?

  He heaved a long, satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his coffee.

  While it was true that he’d just had a spell of anxiety about the roadblock,

  he generally felt better than he’d felt for years—better than he’d ever felt,

  actually, and truly at peace with himself …

  Like a new man.

  Perhaps in the future he’d again feel those old primal fears creeping up

  inside him from time to time, but …

  I’ll always have my memories.

  Those memories would assuage any lurking fears that would well up from

  time to time.

  He drummed his fingers on the tabletop and looked out at the RV that had

  served him so well in his self-healing endeavor.

  All good things must come to an end, he thought.

  And three victims were enough.

  He knew it was time to bring his murderous spree to a close. It was truly a

  bittersweet moment, but he felt deeply satisfied with his decision.

  At that moment, he heard a woman’s voice say …

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  He turned toward the voice and felt a jolt of alarm. For a split second, he

  imagined that he was looking at Aunt Florence herself. This woman

  resembled her even more than the one back in Colorado—the same curly

  brown hair, the same ruddy, healthy complexion, the same radiant smile.
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  But most of all …

  Those eyes.

  That had been the one significant difference between the woman in

  Colorado and Aunt Florence. That woman had had green eyes, while Aunt

  Florence’s had been a piercing, brilliant blue.

  But now, this one who was staring at him expectantly—this woman’s eyes

  were exactly like Aunt Florence’s. He even thought he detected a touch of

  darkness, of meanness, of cruelty, somewhere behind those warm and

  cheerful eyes …

  Just like Aunt Florence.

  He smiled his most engaging smile and said, “Can I help you?”

  The woman blushed a little and chuckled.

  “Oh, this is embarrassing,” she said. “I don’t know what you’ll think of

  me, but …”

  She pointed out the window and said, “Is that your Winnebago out there in

  the parking lot?”

  “It is,” the man said.

  “I thought so,” the woman said, staring raptly at the RV. “It’s such a thing

  of beauty, so majestic! I see a lot of Winnebagos on the road, of course, but

  they’re always on the move. It’s nice to get a look at one while it’s … well,

  standing still.”

  She pointed to where a car and a trailer were parked and added …

  “That’s my rig over there—just a little Starcraft trailer. Not that I’m

  complaining. It serves my purposes well, and I’ve been all over the

  Southwest in it. A single woman like me doesn’t need much more than that.”

  The man smiled at the slight emphasis she’d put on those words …

  … single woman …

  She’s flirting with me! he realized. He had to stop himself from laughing at the irony—the very image of Aunt Florence standing here, flirting with him,

  asking to see the very place that she should never visit.

  Of course he was sure that his Winnebago was really just an excuse for her

  to come over here and talk to him. She had no idea that it might be

  significant.

  Again, he had to choke back laughter that he could feel rising in his throat.

  He asked her, “Have you ordered something to eat?”

  “No, I was just getting ready to.”

  He patted the tabletop and said, “Please, sit down. I just ordered a

  sandwich. Go ahead and order what you like. I’ll buy. Afterwards, we can go

  out to my rig and I’ll give you look around inside. I hope it doesn’t