ONCE TRAPPED

by Blake Pierce

  Riley sighed as she realized …

  Probably not.

  Her work was important to her. She thought it might be important to the world at large. But then, thinking that way worried her. What kind of parent worked day in and day out pursuing the most vicious monsters alive, sometimes finding more than a little of a monster in herself in the process?

  She knew that she sometimes couldn’t help bringing her grim work home with her, at times even in the direst possible way. Her cases had sometimes put the lives of people she loved in danger.

  But it’s what I do, she thought.

  And deep down, she knew that it was good work that had to be done. Somehow, she owed it even to her daughters to keep doing it—not only to protect them from monsters, but to show them how monsters could be defeated.

  She needed to keep on being an example to them.

  It’s best this way, she thought.

  As the plane came to a stop at the concourse, Riley gave Jilly a little shake.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said. “We’re here.”

  Jilly grumbled and groaned a little, and then her face broke into a grin as she saw the dog in its case. Darby had just woken up herself and was looking at Jilly and wagging her tail happily.

  Then Jilly looked at Riley with joy in her eyes.

  “We really did it, didn’t we, Mom?” she said. “We won.”

  Riley hugged Jilly tightly and said, “We sure did, dear. You’re really and truly my daughter now, and I’m your mom. And nothing’s ever going to change that.”

  *

  When Riley, Jilly, and the dog arrived at their townhouse, April was waiting for them right at the door. Just inside were Blaine, Riley’s divorced boyfriend, and his fifteen-year-old daughter, Crystal, who was also April’s best friend. The family’s Guatemalan housekeeper, Gabriela, stood watching nearby.

  Riley and Jilly had reported their good news from Phoenix and they had called again when they had landed and were on the way home, but she hadn’t mentioned the puppy. The whole crowd was there to welcome Jilly, but after a moment April leaned over to look at the carrier that Riley had put on the floor.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  Jilly just giggled.

  “It’s something alive,” Crystal said.

  Jilly opened the top of the carrier and there was Darby, looking wide-eyed and a little worried at all the faces surrounding her.

  “Omigod, omigod, omigod!” Crystal yelled.

  “We’ve got a dog!” April squealed. “We’ve got a dog!”

  Riley laughed as she remembered how calm and collected April had seemed when they’d talked just the night before. Now all that adult maturity had suddenly vanished, and April was acting like a little girl again. It was wonderful to see.

  Jilly lifted Darby out of the carrier. It didn’t take the little dog very long to begin enjoying all the attention.

  As the girls continued fussing noisily over the dog, Blaine asked Riley, “How did things go? Is everything really all settled?”

  “Yes,” Riley told him, smiling. “It’s really over. Jilly is legally mine.”

  Everybody else was too excited about the dog to talk about the adoption at the moment.

  “What’s her name?” April said, holding up the dog.

  “Darby,” Jilly told April.

  “Where did you get her?” Crystal asked.

  Riley chuckled and said, “Well, that’s quite a story. Give us a few minutes to settle in before we tell it.”

  “What breed is she?” April asked.

  “Part Chihuahua, I think,” Jilly said.

  Gabriela took the dog out of April’s hands and examined it carefully.

  “Yes, some Chihuahua, and she’s got some other kinds of dog in her,” the stout woman said. “What is the word in English for a mix of dogs?”

  “A mutt,” Blaine said.

  Gabriela nodded sagely and said, “Yes, you’ve got a real mutt here—auténtico, the real thing. A mutt is the best kind of dog. This one still has a little growing to do, but she will stay pretty small. ¡Bienvenidos! Darby. ¡Nuestra casa es tuya también! This is your home too!”

  She handed the puppy to Jilly and said, “She’ll need some water now, and food after everything calms down. I have some leftover chicken we can give her later, but we’ll have to buy some real dog food soon.”

  Following Gabriela’s instructions on how to set up a place for Darby, the girls hurried upstairs to Jilly’s room to make a bed and put down old newspapers in case she had to go to the bathroom during the night.

  Meanwhile, Gabriela put food on the table—a delicious Guatemalan dish called pollo encebollado, chicken in onion sauce. Soon everybody sat down to eat.

  Himself a chef and restaurant owner, Blaine praised the meal and asked Gabriela all kinds of questions about it. Then the conversation turned to all that had happened in Phoenix. Jilly insisted on telling the whole story herself. Blaine, Crystal, April, and Gabriela all sat with their mouths agape as they heard about the wild scene in the courtroom, and then the still wilder adventure at the airport.

  And of course, everybody was delighted to hear about the new dog that had come into their lives.

  We’re a family now, Riley thought. And it’s great to be home.

  It was also going to be great to get back to work tomorrow.

  After dessert, Blaine and Crystal went home, and April and Jilly went to the kitchen to feed Darby. Riley poured herself a drink and sat down in the living room.

  She felt herself relaxing more and more. It really had been a crazy day, but now it was over.

  Her phone rang, and she saw that the call was from Atlanta.

  Riley felt a jolt. Could this be Morgan again? Who else would be calling from Atlanta?

  She picked up the phone and heard a man’s voice. “Agent Paige? My name is Jared Ruhl, and I’m a police officer here in Atlanta. I got your number from the Quantico switchboard.”

  “What can I do for you, Officer Ruhl?” Riley said.

  In a tentative voice, Ruhl said, “Well, I’m not just sure, but … I guess you know that we arrested a woman for the murder of Andrew Farrell last night. It was his wife, Morgan. In fact, weren’t you the person who called in about it?”

  Riley was feeling edgy now.

  “I was,” she said.

  “I also heard that Morgan Farrell called you right after the killing, before she called anybody else.”

  “That’s right.”

  A silence fell. Riley sensed that Ruhl was struggling with what he wanted to say.

  Finally he said, “Agent Paige, what do you know about Morgan Farrell?”

  Riley squinted with concern. She said, “Officer Ruhl, I’m not sure it’s proper for me to comment. I really don’t know anything about what happened, and it’s not an FBI case.”

  “I understand that. I’m sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have called …”

  His voice trailed off.

  Then he added, “But Agent Paige, I don’t think Morgan Farrell did it. Murdered her husband, I mean. I’m kind of new to this job, and I know I’ve got a lot to learn … but I just don’t think she’s the type who could do that.”

  Riley was startled at those words.

  She certainly didn’t remember Morgan Farrell as being the “type” who might commit murder. But she had to be careful what she said to Ruhl. She wasn’t at all sure she ought to be having this conversation at all.

  She asked Ruhl, “Has she confessed?”

  “They tell me she has. And everybody believes her confession. My partner, the police chief, the DA—absolutely everybody. Except me. And I can’t help but wonder, do you …?”

  He didn’t finish his question, but Riley knew what it was.

  He wanted to know whether Riley believed Morgan to be capable of murder.

  Slowly and cautiously, she said, “Officer Ruhl, I appreciate your concern. But it’s really not appropriate for me to speculate on any of this. I
assume that it’s a local case, and unless the FBI is called in to help in the investigation, well … frankly, it’s none of my business.”

  “Of course, my apologies,” said Ruhl politely. “I should have known better. Anyway, thanks for taking my call. I won’t bother you again.”

  He ended the call, and Riley sat staring at the telephone, sipping from her drink.

  The girls clattered past her, closely followed by the little dog. They were all on the way to the family room to play, and Darby was looking quite happy now.

  Riley watched them go by, with a deep feeling of satisfaction. But then memories of Morgan Farrell began to intrude on her mind.

  She and her partner, Bill Jeffreys, had gone to the Farrells’ mansion to interview Morgan’s husband regarding the death of his own son.

  She remembered how Morgan had seemed almost too weak to stand, clinging to the banister of the huge staircase for support while her husband presided over her as if she were some sort of trophy.

  She remembered the look of vacant terror in the woman’s eyes.

  She also remembered what Andrew Farrell had said about her as soon as she was out of earshot …

  “A rather famous model when I married her—perhaps you’ve seen her on magazine covers.”

  And regarding how much younger Morgan had been than himself, he’d added …

  “A stepmother should never be older than her husband’s oldest children. I’ve made sure of that with all my wives.”

  Riley now felt the same chill she’d felt back then.

  Morgan had obviously been nothing more than a costly trinket for Andrew Farrell to show off in public—not a human being at all.

  Finally Riley remembered what had happened to Andrew Farrell’s wife before Morgan.

  She had committed suicide.

  When Riley had given Morgan her FBI card, she’d been worried that the woman might meet the same fate—or die under other sinister circumstances. The last thing she had imagined was that Morgan would kill her husband—or anybody else for that matter.

  Riley began to feel a familiar tingle—the kind of tingle she got whenever her instincts told her that things were not what they seemed.

  Normally, that tingle was a signal for her to probe the matter more deeply.

  But now?

  No, it’s really none of my business, she told herself.

  Or was it?

  While she was puzzling things over, her phone rang again. This time she saw that the call was from Bill. She’d texted him that everything was all right and she’d be home tonight.

  “Hi, Riley,” he said when she answered. “Just checking in. So everything went all right in Phoenix?”

  “Thanks for calling, Bill,” she replied. “Yes, the adoption is final now.”

  “Everything was thoroughly uneventful, I hope,” Bill asked.

  Riley couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “In fact, far from it. There was, uh, some violence involved. And a dog.”

  She heard Bill chuckle as well.

  “Violence and a dog? I’m intrigued! Tell me more!”

  “I will when we see each other,” Riley said. “It’ll be a better story if I can tell you face to face.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in Quantico, then.”

  Riley fell silent for a moment as she felt on the brink of a strange decision.

  She said to Bill, “I don’t think so. I think maybe I’ll take a couple more days off.”

  “Well, you certainly deserve it. Congratulations again.”

  They ended the call, and Riley headed upstairs to her room. She turned on her computer.

  Then she booked a flight to Atlanta for tomorrow morning.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  By early afternoon the next day, Riley was sitting in the office of Atlanta’s police chief, Elmo Stiles. The large, gruff man didn’t seem at all happy with what Riley had been telling him.

  He finally growled, “Let me get this straight, Agent Paige. You’ve come here all the way from Quantico to privately interview Morgan Farrell, who we’re holding in custody for the murder of her husband. But we didn’t ask for the FBI’s help. In fact, the case is now open and shut. We’ve got a confession and everything. Morgan is guilty, and that’s pretty much that. So what’s your business here?”

  Riley tried to project an air of confidence.

  “I told you before,” she said. “I need to talk to her about a completely separate matter—a different case altogether.”

  Stiles squinted skeptically and said, “A different case that you can’t tell me anything about.”

  “That’s right,” Riley said.

  It was a lie, of course. For the thousandth time since she’d flown out of DC this morning, she wondered just what the hell she thought she was doing. She was used to bending the rules, but she was seriously crossing a line by pretending to be here on official FBI business.

  Just why had she ever thought this might be a good idea?

  “What if I say no?” Stiles said.

  Riley knew perfectly well that this was the chief’s prerogative, and if he did say no, she’d have to comply. But she didn’t want to say so. She had to gear herself up for some serious bluffing.

  She said, “Chief Stiles, believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t a matter of utmost importance and urgency. I’m just not at liberty to say what it is.”

  Chief Stiles drummed his fingers on his desk for a few moments.

  Then he said, “Your reputation precedes you, Agent Paige.”

  Riley cringed a little inside.

  That could be a good thing or a bad thing, she thought.

  She was well-known and respected throughout the law enforcement profession for her keen instincts, her ability to get into a killer’s mind, and her knack for solving seemingly unsolvable cases.

  She was also known for sometimes being a nuisance and a loose cannon, and local authorities who had to work with her often took a dislike to her.

  She didn’t know which of those reputations Chief Stiles might be referring to.

  She wished she could read his expression better, but he had one of those faces that probably never looked pleased about much of anything.

  What Riley really dreaded at this moment was the possibility that Stiles might do the most logical thing—pick up the phone and call Quantico to confirm that she was here on FBI business. If he did, nobody there would cover for her. In fact, she’d wind up in a good bit of trouble.

  Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, she thought.

  Finally Chief Stiles stopped drumming his fingers and got up from his desk.

  He grumbled, “Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of FBI business. Come on, I’ll take you to Morgan Farrell’s jail cell.”

  Suppressing a sigh of relief, Riley got up and followed Stiles out of his office. As he led her through the bustling police station, Riley wondered whether any of the cops around her might happen to be Jared Ruhl, the officer who had called her last night. She wouldn’t recognize him if she saw him. But might he know who she was?

  Riley hoped not, for his sake as much as for her own. She remembered telling him over the phone about Morgan Farrell’s death …

  “Frankly, it’s none of my business.”

  It had been exactly the right thing for her to say, and it would be best for Ruhl if he thought Riley was sticking by her decision. It could be a big problem for him if Chief Stiles found out that he’d been making queries outside the department.

  As Stiles led her into the women’s part of the jail, Riley was nearly deafened by the noise. Prisoners were pounding on bars and loudly arguing with one another, and now they started yelling at Riley as she walked past their cells.

  Finally Stiles ordered a guard to open the cell occupied by Morgan Farrell, and Riley walked inside. The woman was sitting on the bed staring at the floor, seemingly unaware that anyone had arrived.

  Ril
ey was shocked by her appearance. Morgan was, as Riley remembered, extremely thin and fragile-looking. She looked even more so now, clad in an orange jumpsuit that looked way too big for her.

  She also appeared to be deeply exhausted. The last time Riley had seen her, she’d been fully made up and looking like the model she had been before marrying Andrew Farrell. Without makeup, she looked shockingly waiflike. Riley thought that somebody who didn’t know anything about her might take her for a homeless woman.

  In a rather polite tone, Chief Stiles said to Morgan, “Ma’am, there’s a visitor here to see you. Special Agent Riley Paige of the FBI.”

  Morgan looked up at Riley and stared at her, as if she wasn’t sure whether she might be dreaming.

  Chief Stiles then turned to Riley and said, “Check in with me when you’re through.”

  Stiles left the cell and told the guard to shut the door behind him. Riley glanced around to see what kind of surveillance the cell might have. She wasn’t surprised to see a camera. She hoped that there weren’t any audio devices as well. The last thing she wanted right now was for Stiles or anyone else to eavesdrop on her conversation with Morgan Farrell. But now that she was here, she had to take that chance.

  As Riley sat down on the bed next to her, Morgan continued to squint at her in near disbelief.

  In a tired voice, she said, “Agent Paige. I hadn’t expected you. It’s kind of you to come see me, but really, it wasn’t at all necessary.”

  Riley said, “I just wanted to …”

  Her voice trailed off as she found herself wondering …

  What do I want exactly?

  Did she really have any clear idea of just what she was doing here?

  Finally Riley said, “Could you tell me what happened?”

  Morgan sighed deeply.

  “There’s not much to tell, is there? I killed my husband. I’m not sorry I did, believe me. But now that it’s done … well, I’d really like to go home now.”

  Riley was shocked by her words. Didn’t the woman understand what a terrible situation she was in?

  Didn’t she know that Georgia was a death penalty state?

  Morgan seemed to be having trouble holding her head up. She shuddered at the sound of a woman’s shrill shouting in a nearby cell.