by Blake Pierce
“I’m actually here to ask you for information,” Riley said. “Is your husband at home?”
“Yes,” the woman said.
“Would it be possible for me to talk with both of you?”
“He knows that you’re here.”
Her non-answer disarmed Riley, but she took care not to show it. The woman fastened her cold, blue eyes on Riley’s. Riley didn’t flinch. She just returned her stare, bracing herself for a subtle battle of wills.
Riley said, “The Behavioral Analysis Unit is investigating an unusual number of apparent suicides at Byars College.”
“Apparent suicides?” Webber said, arching a single eyebrow. “I’d hardly describe Deanna’s suicide as ‘apparent.’ It seemed plenty real to my husband and me.”
Riley could swear that the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees. Webber betrayed not the slightest hint of emotion at her mention of her own daughter’s suicide.
She’s got ice water in her veins, Riley thought.
“I’d like you to tell me what happened,” Riley said.
“Why? I’m sure you’ve read the report.”
Of course, Riley had done nothing of the kind. But she had to keep bluffing her way along.
“It would help if I could hear it in your own words,” she said.
Webber was silent for a moment. Her stare was unwavering. But so was Riley’s.
“Deanna was injured in a riding accident last summer,” Webber said. “Her hip was badly fractured. It seemed likely that it would have to be replaced altogether. Her days of riding in competitions were over. She was heartbroken.”
Webber paused for a moment.
“She was taking oxycodone for the pain. She overdosed—deliberately. It was intentional, and that’s all there is to it.”
Riley sensed that she was leaving something unsaid.
“Where did it happen?” she asked.
“In her bedroom,” Webber said. “She was snug in her bed. The medical examiner said she died of respiratory arrest. She looked like she was asleep when the maid found her.”
And then—Webber blinked.
She literally blinked.
She had faltered in their battle of wills.
She’s lying! Riley realized.
Riley’s pulse quickened.
Now she had to really apply the pressure, probe with exactly the right questions.
But before Riley could even think of what to ask, the office door opened. The woman who had brought Riley here came in.
“Congresswoman, I need a word with you, please,” she said.
Webber looked relieved as she got up from her desk and followed her assistant out the door.
Riley took some long, slow breaths.
She wished she hadn’t been interrupted.
She was sure she’d been about to crack through Hazel Webber’s deceptive facade.
But her opportunity wasn’t gone.
When Webber came back, Riley would start in on her again.
After less than a minute, Webber returned. She seemed to have recovered her self-assurance.
She stood by the open door and said, “Agent Paige—if you really are Agent Paige—I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
Riley gulped hard.
“I don’t understand.”
“My assistant just called the BAU. They have absolutely no investigation underway concerning suicides at Byars College. Now whoever you are—”
Riley pulled out her badge.
“I am Special Agent Riley Paige,” she said with determination. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that such an investigation gets underway as soon as possible.”
She walked past Hazel Webber out of the office.
On her way out of the house, she knew that she had made an enemy—and a dangerous one at that.
It was a different sort of danger from what she usually faced.
Hazel Webber wasn’t a psychopath whose weapons of choice were chains, knives, guns, or blowtorches.
She was a woman without a conscience, and her weapons were money and power.
Riley preferred the kind of adversary she could punch out or shoot. Even so, she was ready and willing to deal with Webber and whatever threats she could muster.
She lied to me about her daughter, Riley kept thinking.
And now Riley was determined to find out the truth.
The house seemed empty now. Riley was surprised to leave without encountering a single soul. She felt as if she could rob the place and not get caught.
She went outside and got into her car and drove away.
As she approached the manor gate, she saw that it was closed. Standing just inside were both the burly guard who had let her in and the enormous butler. Both had their arms crossed, and they were obviously waiting for her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The two men definitely looked threatening. They also looked a little bit ridiculous—the smaller of the two wearing his guard uniform, his much more massive partner wearing his ultra-formal butler’s outfit.
Like a pair of circus clowns, she thought.
But she knew they weren’t trying to be funny.
Riley pulled her car to a stop right in front of them. She rolled down her window, looked out, and called to them.
“Is there some sort of problem, gentlemen?”
The guard came closer, directly in front of her car.
The colossal butler lumbered toward her passenger window.
He spoke in a rumbling bass voice.
“Representative Webber would like to clear up a misunderstanding.”
“And that would be?”
“She wants you to understand that snoops aren’t welcome here.”
Now Riley got the picture.
Webber and her assistant had come to the conclusion that Riley was an imposter, not an FBI agent at all. They probably suspected that she was a reporter getting ready to write some sort of exposé about the congresswoman.
No doubt these two guys were used to dealing with nosy reporters.
Riley pulled out her badge again.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding,” she said. “I really am a special agent with the FBI.”
The big man smirked. He obviously believed the badge was a fake.
“Step out of the car, please,” he said.
“I’d rather not, thank you,” Riley said. “I’d really appreciate if you’d open the gate.”
Riley had left her door unlocked. The big man opened it.
“Step out of the car, please,” he repeated.
Riley groaned under her breath.
This isn’t going to end well, she thought.
Riley stepped out of the car and shut the door. The two men moved to stand side by side a short distance from her.
Riley wondered which of them was going to make the first move.
Then the huge man cracked his knuckles and strode toward her.
Riley took a couple of steps toward him.
As he reached out for her, she grabbed him by his lapel and the sleeve of his left arm and tugged him off balance. Then she pivoted all the way around on her left foot and ducked down. She barely felt the man’s massive weight as his whole body flew over her back. He slammed loudly and upside-down against the car door and then landed head first on the ground.
The car got the worst of it, she thought with fleeting dismay.
The other man was already moving toward her, and she whirled to face him.
She landed a kick to his groin. He bent over with a huge groan, and Riley could see that the altercation was over.
She snatched the man’s pistol from his hip holster.
Then she surveyed her handiwork.
The larger man still lay in a crumpled heap beside the car, staring at her with a terrified expression. The car door was dented, but not as badly as Riley had feared. The uniformed guard was on his hands and knees gasping for breath.
She held the pistol, handle f
irst, toward the guard.
“You seem to have misplaced this,” she said in a pleasant voice.
His hands trembling, he reached for the gun.
Riley pulled it away from him.
“Huh-uh,” she said. “Not until you open the gate.”
She took the man by the hand and helped him to his feet. He staggered to the shack and threw the switch that opened the iron gate. Riley walked toward the car.
“Excuse me,” she told the enormous man.
Still looking quite terrified, the man scrambled sideways like a giant crab, getting out of Riley’s way. She got into the car and drove through the gate. She tossed the pistol on the ground as she drove away.
They don’t think I’m a reporter anymore, she thought.
She was also sure that they would let the congresswoman know that pretty quickly.
*
A couple of hours later, Riley pulled her car into the parking lot at the BAU building. She sat there for a few moments. She hadn’t been here once during her month on leave. She hadn’t expected to be back so soon. It felt really strange.
She turned off the engine, removed the keys, got out of the car, and went into the building. As she made her way toward her office, friends and colleagues spoke to her with varying degrees of welcome, surprise, or restraint.
She stopped at the office of her usual partner, Bill Jeffreys, but he wasn’t there. He was probably out on an assignment, working with someone else.
She felt a slight pang of sadness—even jealousy.
In many ways, Bill was her best friend in the world.
Still, she figured maybe this was just as well. Bill didn’t know that she and Ryan were together again, and he wouldn’t approve. He had held her hand too many times during her painful breakup and divorce. He’d find it hard to believe that Ryan was a changed man.
When she opened the door to her own office, she had to double check to make sure she was in the right place. It all looked far too neat and well organized. Had they given her office to another agent? Had someone else been working here?
Riley opened a drawer and found familiar files, though now in better order.
Who would have straightened everything up for her?
Certainly not Bill. He would have known better.
Lucy Vargas, maybe, she thought.
Lucy was a young agent that both she and Bill had worked with and liked. If Lucy was the culprit behind all this neatness, at least she’d done it in a spirit of helpfulness.
Riley sat at her desk for a few minutes.
Images and memories came to her—the girl’s coffin, her devastated parents, and Riley’s terrible dream of the hanged girl surrounded by mementos. She also remembered how Dean Autrey had evaded her questions, and how Hazel Webber had outright lied.
She reminded herself of what she’d said to Hazel Webber. She’d promised to get an official investigation underway. And it was time to make good on that promise.
She picked up her office phone and buzzed her boss, Brent Meredith.
When the team chief picked up, she said, “Sir, this is Riley Paige. I wonder if I could—”
She was about to ask for a few minutes of his time when his voice thundered.
“Agent Paige, get in my office right now.”
Riley shuddered.
Meredith was plenty mad at her about something.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Riley hurried into Brent Meredith’s office, she found him standing by his desk waiting for her.
“Close the door,” he said. “Sit down.”
Riley did as she was told.
Still standing, Meredith didn’t speak for a few moments. He just glared at Riley. He was a big man—broad-built with black, angular features. And he was intimidating even when he was in the best of moods.
He wasn’t in a good mood right now.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Agent Paige?” he asked.
Riley gulped. She guessed that some of her activities that day had already gotten back to him.
“Perhaps you’d better start first, sir,” she said meekly.
He moved closer to her.
“I’ve just gotten two complaints from on high about you,” he said.
Riley’s heart sank. By “on high,” she knew who Meredith meant. The complaints had come from Special Agent in Charge Carl Walder himself—a contemptible little man who had already suspended Riley more than once for insubordination.
Meredith growled, “Walder tells me he got a call from the dean of a small college.”
“Yes, Byars College. But if you’ll give me a moment to explain—”
Meredith interrupted her again.
“The dean said you walked into his office and made some preposterous allegations.”
“That’s not exactly what happened, sir,” Riley pleaded.
But Meredith steamrolled right along.
“Walder also got a call from Representative Hazel Webber. She said that you made your way into her home and harassed her. You even lied to her about some nonexistent case. And then you assaulted two members of her staff. You threatened them at gunpoint.”
Riley bristled at the accusation.
“That’s really not what happened, sir.”
“Then what did happen?”
“It was the guard’s own gun,” she blurted.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Riley realized …
That didn’t come out right at all.
“I was trying to give it back!” she said.
But she instantly knew …
That didn’t help.
A long silence fell.
Meredith drew a deep breath. Finally, he said, “You’d better have a good explanation for your actions, Agent Paige.”
Riley took a deep breath.
“Sir, there have been three suspicious deaths at Byars College, just during this school year. They were allegedly suicides. I don’t believe that’s what they were.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Meredith said.
“I understand, sir. And I came here just to tell you about it.”
Meredith stood, waiting for further explanation.
“A friend of my daughter’s had a sister at Byars College—Lois Pennington, a freshman. Her family found her hanging in the garage last Sunday. Her sister doesn’t believe it was suicide. I interviewed her parents, and—”
Meredith yelled loud enough to be heard out in the hallway.
“You interviewed her parents?”
“Yes, sir,” Riley said quietly.
Meredith took a moment to try to bring his temper under control.
“Need I tell you that this is not a BAU case?”
“No, sir,” Riley said.
“In fact, as far as I know, this is not a case at all.”
Riley didn’t know what to say next.
“So what did her parents tell you?” Meredith asked. “Did they think it was suicide?”
“Yes,” Riley said in a hushed voice.
Now Meredith didn’t seem to know what to say. He shook his head with dismay.
“Sir, I know how this sounds,” Riley said. “But the dean at Byars was hiding something. And Hazel Webber lied to me about her own daughter’s death.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know!”
Riley looked at Meredith imploringly.
“Sir, after all these years, surely you know that my instincts are good. When I feel something in my gut, I’m almost always right. You’ve got to trust me. There’s something wrong with these girls’ deaths.”
“Riley, you know that’s not the way things work.”
Riley was startled. Meredith seldom called her by her first name—only when he was genuinely concerned about her. She knew that he valued, liked, and respected her, and she felt the same about him.
He leaned against his desk and shrugged unhappily.
“Maybe you’re right, and maybe you’re wrong,
” he said with a sigh. “Either way, I can’t make this a BAU case just because of your gut feelings. There’d have to be a whole lot more to it.”
Meredith now gazed at her with a worried expression.
“Agent Paige, you’ve been through a lot lately. You’ve been on some dangerous cases, and your partner almost got poisoned to death on the last one. And you’ve got a new family member to take care of, and …”
“And what?” Riley asked.
Meredith paused, then said, “I put you on leave a month ago. You seemed to think it was a good idea. The last time we talked, you even asked me for more time away. I think that’s best. Take all the time you need. You need more rest.”
Riley felt discouraged and defeated. But she knew there was no point in arguing. The truth was, Meredith was right. There was no way he could take on this case on the basis of what she’d told him. Especially not with a bureaucratic creep like Walder breathing down his neck.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I’ll go home now.”
She felt terribly alone as she left Meredith’s office and headed out of the building. But she wasn’t ready to put her suspicions aside. Her gut feeling was much too strong for that. She knew she had to do something.
First things first, she thought.
She had to get more information. She had to prove that something was wrong.
But how was she going to do that alone?
*
Riley got home about a half hour before dinner. She went into the kitchen and found Gabriela preparing another of her delicious Guatemalan specialties, gallo en perro, a spicy stew.
“Are the girls home?” Riley asked.
“Sí. They are in April’s room doing homework together.”
Riley felt a bit relieved. At home at least, something seemed to be going right.
“How about Ryan?” Riley asked.
“He called. He will be late.”
Riley felt a pang of unease. It reminded her of bad times with Ryan. But she told herself not to worry. Ryan’s job was demanding, after all. And besides, Riley’s own work kept her away from home much more than she would like.
She went upstairs and got on her computer. She ran a search on Deanna Webber’s death, but didn’t find anything she didn’t know already. Then she looked for information on Cory Linz, the other girl who had died. Again, she found very little information.
