by Blake Pierce
S T A L K I N G
(THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE—BOOK 5)
B L A K E P I E R C E
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes sixteen books (and counting). Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising thirteen books (and counting); of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; of the KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books; of the MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); of the KATE WISE mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the CHLOE FINE psychological suspense mystery, comprising five books (and counting); and of the JESSE HUNT psychological suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting).
ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1), BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1), A TRACE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book 1), and WATCHING (The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2019 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Runis, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
A JESSIE HUNT PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES
THE PERFECT WIFE (Book #1)
THE PERFECT BLOCK (Book #2)
THE PERFECT HOUSE (Book #3)
THE PERFECT SMILE (Book #4)
THE PERFECT LIE (Book #5)
THE PERFECT LOOK (Book #6)
CHLOE FINE PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES
NEXT DOOR (Book #1)
A NEIGHBOR’S LIE (Book #2)
CUL DE SAC (Book #3)
SILENT NEIGHBOR (Book #4)
HOMECOMING (Book #5)
TINTED WINDOWS (Book #6)
KATE WISE MYSTERY SERIES
IF SHE KNEW (Book #1)
IF SHE SAW (Book #2)
IF SHE RAN (Book #3)
IF SHE HID (Book #4)
IF SHE FLED (Book #5)
IF SHE FEARED (Book #6)
IF SHE HEARD (Book #7)
THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE SERIES
WATCHING (Book #1)
WAITING (Book #2)
LURING (Book #3)
TAKING (Book #4)
STALKING (Book #5)
RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES
ONCE GONE (Book #1)
ONCE TAKEN (Book #2)
ONCE CRAVED (Book #3)
ONCE LURED (Book #4)
ONCE HUNTED (Book #5)
ONCE PINED (Book #6)
ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7)
ONCE COLD (Book #8)
ONCE STALKED (Book #9)
ONCE LOST (Book #10)
ONCE BURIED (Book #11)
ONCE BOUND (Book #12)
ONCE TRAPPED (Book #13)
ONCE DORMANT (Book #14)
ONCE SHUNNED (Book #15)
ONCE MISSED (Book #16)
ONCE CHOSEN (Book #17)
MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES
BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1)
BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2)
BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3)
BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4)
BEFORE HE NEEDS (Book #5)
BEFORE HE FEELS (Book #6)
BEFORE HE SINS (Book #7)
BEFORE HE HUNTS (Book #8)
BEFORE HE PREYS (Book #9)
BEFORE HE LONGS (Book #10)
BEFORE HE LAPSES (Book #11)
BEFORE HE ENVIES (Book #12)
BEFORE HE STALKS (Book #13)
BEFORE HE HARMS (Book #14)
AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES
CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1)
CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2)
CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3)
CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4)
CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5)
CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6)
KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES
A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)
A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2)
A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3)
A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)
A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
PROLOGUE
Kimberly Dent turned her collar up against the cold. She was out later than usual, but it was just a short, safe walk home from her friend Goldie Dowling’s house. The night wasn’t uncomfortably cold, and Kimberly liked the way the air stung her cheeks and she could see her frosty breath. It was actually very pretty, with the streetlights shining on what was left of last week’s snowfall.
Kimberly was sure her parents wouldn’t mind that she was out so late. Her high school grades were good, and Mom and Dad trusted her to stay out of trouble—not that there was a lot of trouble to get into in a boring little town like Dalhart. Besides that, both of her parents would surely be asleep by now. Like most people in this neighborhood, they were always early to bed.
She was humming a pop tune, but she realized she didn’t know what the song was.
Something new I heard on the radio, I guess.
It felt odd that a song she didn’t even really know could get stuck in her head like this, but it seemed to happen a lot lately. Of course, someday that song would be as familiar as an old pair of shoes. And yet she’d never be able to remember exactly where or when she’d heard it for the first time.
The thought made her sad somehow.
But then, the whole evening had seemed kind of sad.
She and Goldie had done all the usual things they’d shared over the years—painted each other’s nails, arranged each other’s hair, danced to some of their favorite songs, played cards, watched some TV.
But then they’d g
otten cross with each other—or at least Goldie had gotten cross with Kimberly.
And over nothing, Kimberly thought.
All Kimberly had done was ask Goldie whether she was sure she wanted to stay here in Dalhart after they both graduated this spring. Goldie had snapped at her about that.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t go right ahead and marry Clint?” Goldie had demanded.
Kimberly had been startled. She knew that Goldie and Clint were serious about each other. They’d been together since back in middle school. But Goldie hadn’t said anything about marriage before. And if Clint had proposed to Goldie, she sure hadn’t mentioned it to Kimberly.
Of course, Kimberly knew it would make Goldie’s parents happy if she married Clint and settled down right here in Dalhart and started having kids pretty much right away. But that had never seemed like Goldie’s style.
At least not until tonight.
Then Kimberly had made the mistake of reminding Goldie of her longtime dream of heading out to New York or L.A. and becoming an actress.
“Oh, grow up,” Goldie had said. “We’re too old for those kid dreams anymore.”
Those words had hit Kimberly hard—but not as hard as what Goldie said next.
“Or do you still think you’re going to be an Olympic gymnast?”
Kimberly had been shocked. No, she hadn’t dreamed about that since she’d been twelve or thirteen. It had seemed cruel of Goldie to bring it up out of nowhere.
Still, Kimberly did hope for a lot more than Dalhart had to offer. She was anxious to get out of here. She figured she’d move down to Memphis right after graduation and take any kind of job she could get and enjoy city life for a change.
She hadn’t mentioned that to anybody yet—not even to Goldie, and tonight certainly hadn’t seemed like the right time to tell her. Kimberly was sure her parents were going to be against any idea like that. She just hoped she’d be strong enough to stand up for what she wanted when the time came for her to leave.
She was halfway home now, and she was still humming the same tune and wondering what it was. Then she heard a strange, high-pitched sound. At first she thought it was the wind. But there was hardly even a breeze in the air.
She stopped in her tracks and listened.
Someone’s whistling! she realized.
Not only that, but someone was whistling the same tune she’d been humming.
Suddenly the whistling stopped.
She called out softly but firmly, “Is that you, Jay? If it is, this isn’t very funny.”
Her boyfriend Jay had broken up with her about a week ago, and he’d been behaving like a creep ever since. Word had gotten back to her that he’d even been badmouthing her to his male friends, complaining that she wouldn’t “put out” for him. Of course that had been why Jay had ended their relationship, but Kimberly sure didn’t think it was anybody else’s business.
And now she couldn’t help but wonder—was Jay stalking her?
She sighed and thought, I wouldn’t put it past him.
She shook her head and started to walk again.
Then the whistling resumed.
Walking faster now, Kimberly looked all around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. She simply couldn’t tell. But she was starting to hope that it was Jay after all. She didn’t like the thought that it might be one of Jay’s freaky pals. And she didn’t dare imagine that it might be somebody she didn’t even know.
As she kept walking, she looked around at all the houses where people she’d known all her life lived. Should she knock on one of those doors so somebody could let her inside?
No, it’s late, she thought.
She didn’t see any lights on inside the houses. Those people were probably all asleep by now. Even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be pleased to be disturbed at this hour. And her parents would have a fit if they heard she’d been bothering people so late at night.
The whistling stopped again, but Kimberly took no comfort in that. The night now seemed colder and darker and scarier than it had just a few minutes before.
As she turned a corner, she saw a van parked a short distance ahead. Its lights were on and its engine was running.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t recognize the vehicle, but at least it was somebody. Whoever was driving the van would surely give her a ride the short remaining distance to her house.
She walked up to the vehicle and noticed that its side door was open. She peered in and saw that the bare, open interior was separated from the front seats by some kind of metal fencing. She didn’t see anybody anywhere inside.
Kimberly wondered whether the driver might be having engine trouble and maybe had gone looking for help. If it was a stranger from out of town, they’d have no idea who to turn to.
Maybe I can help, she thought.
She reached for her cellphone in her purse, figuring she could call her dad. But then she hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether she really wanted to wake Dad up, even to help out a stranger.
She heard approaching steps and turned to see a face that she recognized.
“Oh, it’s you…” she said, feeling a moment of relief.
But the expression on his face froze any words that might have followed. She had never seen his eyes so cold and hard like this.
Without saying anything at all, he reached out a hand and snatched her purse and phone away.
Now fear rose up in Kimberly’s throat. All the things she thought of doing flashed through her mind.
Scream for help, she told herself. Wake someone up,
But suddenly she was lifted and shoved violently backward into the van.
The door slammed and the interior lights went out.
She groped for the door handle, but found that it was locked.
Finally Kimberly found her voice again.
“Let me out of here!” she screamed, pounding on the door.
Then the driver’s door opened, and the man climbed inside.
The van began to move.
Kimberly grabbed hold of the wire fencing that separated her from the driver and demanded, “What are you doing? Let me out of here!”
But the vehicle was on its way down the street now, and Kimberly knew that no one in the sleepy neighborhood could hear her.
CHAPTER ONE
When the first shot rang out, Riley Sweeney reacted fast. Just as she’d been trained back at the Academy, she dropped down behind the nearest barrier—a Honda that was parked in front of the motel where two killers were holed up. But she didn’t feel that the compact vehicle offered her a lot of protection.
It was cold this time of year in upstate New York, and snow was falling. Visibility wasn’t at all good. This was Riley’s first armed standoff, and she didn’t feel sure that she’d even survive it.
Peering through the swirling flakes, Riley saw that Special Agent Jake Crivaro was more safely ensconced beside a hefty SUV. Crivaro, her partner and mentor, looked worried as he glanced back at her. Riley wished she could silently signal him that she’d be all right. Like the six local cops who had arrived with them just now, Riley and Crivaro were wearing Kevlar. But Riley knew better than to expect too much from her protective vest. A well-aimed shot to her head—or even an accidental shot—could be fatal.
Crivaro lifted a bullhorn to his lips and called out, “This is Special Agent Jake Crivaro with the FBI. I’m here with my partner and local law enforcement. We’ve got you surrounded. There’s no way out. Come out with your hands up.”
No reply came from the motel room where the two killers were holed up. Instead, there was just an eerie whistle of wind.
Riley cautiously poked her head out from behind the little car, trying to glimpse the motel room. Just then came sharp crack coupled with a shrill, piercing sound—something between a whistle and a buzz.
A bullet had whipped right past her. Riley pulled her head back out of sight. She gasped as she realized, I just got shot at for the firs
t time.
She’d had plenty of training with live ammunition, but none of it had been aimed at her personally.
Just as Crivaro and the cops had done, she’d already drawn her weapon—a .40 caliber semiautomatic Glock.
The weapon felt clumsy in her hands.
She reminded herself that she ought to be glad she’d recently graduated to something more powerful than the .22 caliber pistol she was given when she received her FBI badge. But this one was less familiar, and she didn’t yet know what she was going to have to do with it.
She did know better than to return fire now—and apparently so did everyone else on the team. They’d do everything they could to end this situation without unnecessary gunfire.
She suspected that some of the cops who were gathered nearby felt the same way. Maybe some of them were as new to this as she was. Ever since she’d completed training for the FBI last year, Riley had wondered how she’d feel when she got into this kind of situation for the first time.
And now that she was in the middle of it, she still didn’t know.
One thing she felt sure of—she didn’t feel panic. In fact, she didn’t feel afraid at all. It was more as if she were outside her body watching what was going on, like some sort of dispassionate observer. The situation seemed completely unreal, almost dreamlike. But she knew that her whole body was flooded with adrenaline, and she had to keep her wits about her.
She felt a little bit encouraged that at least one person on this team had some idea of what he was doing. This was far from Agent Crivaro’s first experience of this kind. The short, barrel-chested man was a legend in the Agency for his long record of closing tough cases.
Riley leaned against the car, waiting for some sign of what she should do. In the moments of silence, she thought back to gathering at the local police station with this team. It had been just a little while ago, but right now it seemed like days or even weeks had gone by since then. They’d all been fully briefed about the killers they were going to try to apprehend.
When she’d seen pictures of the pair, she’d thought, Kids. Just a couple of kids.
