ONCE TRAPPED

by Blake Pierce

  As if she thinks he’ll know anyway, Riley thought.

  Riley said in a gentle voice, “Brynn, what are your own impressions of Harrison Lund?”

  Brynn inhaled and exhaled sharply.

  “Like I said, he’s OK with the girls, and they actually like him. But …”

  She gulped and said, “He gives me the creeps somehow. I don’t know why. I usually manage to stay away from him.”

  Riley sensed a world of unformed, wordless fears in her voice.

  Riley thanked Brynn for her help and gave her an FBI card.

  When she and her colleagues left the club, Bill commented, “So that was a nymph?”

  “Well, why not?” Riley asked. “A nymph is a nature spirit, isn’t she?”

  Bill laughed. “I’d say that woman is more what you’d call a force of nature.”

  “Nature isn’t always tame,” Riley replied.

  Then she turned to Jared and said, “I need for you to locate Harrison Lund for me.”

  Jared searched on his cell phone as they climbed into the car. Almost immediately he found the address for Lund’s company, Lund Architects. It was only a short drive away.

  As Riley started to drive, she remembered Brynn’s words …

  “He gives me the creeps somehow.”

  Riley had no doubt that Brynn was extremely intuitive as well as intelligent. If she felt some deep-seated dread of Harrison Lund, there must have been a good reason.

  I’ve got to find out what that reason is, Riley thought.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Riley didn’t like the way Harrison Lund smiled. The man rose from his desk as his assistant escorted Riley, Bill, and Jared into his office. The assistant had already told him who the visitors were via intercom.

  Lund spoke in a friendly enough manner. “The FBI, eh? I was wondering when you’d show up.” But his smile was absolutely reptilian.

  Was he really expecting us? Riley wondered.

  If he was, what could that mean?

  Lund said, “Sit down, please. Make yourselves at home.”

  He had a thick southern drawl that reminded Riley of Julian Morse’s brother, Roderick. But Lund’s voice was smoother, darker, and somehow more sinister. He was about Riley’s age, and he had a sardonic air about him. He wore an expensive double-breasted suit and had steel gray hair combed back sleekly.

  Riley and her colleagues sat down in front of the desk, and Lund took his seat in the big chair behind his desk. Riley glanced around the huge office, with its wall-sized window overlooking downtown Birmingham. The dark slate walls and the wide, smooth surfaces definitely looked to Riley like the work of the same architect who had designed the Nymphs of Vulcan gentlemen’s club.

  Lund cradled his fingers together and looked at each of his visitors with an expression of cold but vaguely amused curiosity.

  “So,” he said, “what are you planning to do for me?”

  Riley was startled by the question, and she was sure her colleagues felt the same way.

  “I beg your pardon?” she said.

  Lund tilted his head in what struck Riley as a mocking manner.

  He said, “Well, I assume you’re here on account of the three recent murders, aren’t you? Andrew Farrell, Julian Morse, and Edwin Gray Harter—and there’s a pattern there, isn’t there? A pattern that led you to me.”

  Riley knew right away that he was toying with them. And she didn’t much like it.

  Jared spoke up.

  “If you’ve got something to tell us, why don’t you just come out with it?”

  Riley was about to dart another silencing glare at him. But Bill beat her to it with a warning growl of disapproval.

  Lund chuckled at Jared’s comment.

  “Oh, my,” he said. “That sounds a bit hostile. I’m not sure I should entrust my life into your good hands. Because that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To make sure I’m well-protected? I’m certain that I’m on a pretty short list of potential victims in this area.”

  Laughing louder, he added, “The truth is, I’d feel a little hurt if I weren’t on such a list. It sounds like your killer—whoever he is—has rather exacting tastes in murder victims. None but the elite and wealthy. And I’m certainly both.”

  Riley said, “We’re not here to offer you protection, Mr. Lund. I think you’ve got that under control already. On the way through the building, I saw that you already have plenty of plainclothes security men on duty, toting concealed weapons. I’m sure you’ve got similar security at your home—although I should warn you that our killer is pretty smart at hacking electronic devices.”

  Lund leaned toward them.

  He said, “Then I’m not sure I understand—what is your business with me today?”

  Bill said, “We just want to ask you a few questions.”

  “For example?” Lund asked.

  Riley locked eyes with him.

  She said, “We would like to know where you were at the times of the murders.”

  Bill then told him the exact times and locations of the murders.

  Lund leaned toward the intercom and called for his assistant. When the woman came in, Lund said, “Claudia, could you tell these folks about my comings and goings during the last couple of weeks?”

  Claudia recited with rote efficiency an elaborate itinerary that included Zurich, Berlin, Paris, and London.

  When she finished, Lund said to Riley and her colleagues, “Would you like Claudia to print up my reservations and hotel receipts and such?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Riley said.

  It wasn’t that Riley was by any means convinced that Lund was innocent. In fact, she was becoming more and more suspicious of him by the second. But she was also sure that his alibis would prove to be airtight. It would be easy enough for Flores to check out. Besides, she’d already considered the possibility that the three killings had been hired.

  Riley held his gaze for a moment, then said, “Mr. Lund, did you personally know the first victim—Andrew Farrell?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lund said. “We were quite well acquainted.”

  Riley asked, “Didn’t you have a falling out recently?”

  Lund smiled that reptilian smile of his.

  “Now that you mention it, I suppose I did. It was the night before I flew to Zurich—and if I’m not mistaken, two nights before Andrew was killed. And I suppose you know just where that falling out took place.”

  Riley carefully kept her silence.

  Lund squinted at her inquisitively.

  “What I would like to know is—how did you come by this bit of information?”

  The question made Riley feel queasy.

  She remembered Brynn’s skeptical, worried look when she promised that Lund needn’t know who had told her about the argument.

  Had Lund guessed the truth—that Riley had talked to Brynn?

  Riley steadied herself. She knew that almost everything this man said was calculated to keep her and her team off balance.

  Don’t let him get the best of you, she told herself.

  She said, “What I’d like to know is, what was your quarrel with Farrell about?”

  Lund clucked his tongue with disapproval. “I didn’t like how Andrew treated the ladies at … a certain establishment, I suspect you know which one I mean. I’m rather old-fashioned that way—something of an anachronism, an old-school Southern gentleman. I believe in treating ladies with courtesy and respect. No matter who they are.”

  Riley remembered something Brynn had said about Lund …

  “Harrison is an OK guy for the most part—at least with the girls.”

  Lund seemed to be a living, breathing contradiction—a misogynist with an inclination for exotic dancers and call girls who believed in treating those very women with some sort of faux gallantry.

  Lund swiveled slightly in his chair and added, “I told Andrew I wasn’t going to allow his behavior to continue.”

  Riley felt a chill at his w
ords.

  “So you threatened him?” she asked.

  Lund laughed. “Oh, Agent Paige—now you’re getting much too personal. It was an ugly little quarrel, and I’d just as soon forget all about it. Can we change the subject, please?”

  Riley felt stymied. Her questions seemed to be getting her nowhere. Lund struck her as clever and slippery—and also dangerous.

  Fortunately, Bill spoke up. “Did you and Farrell share any other activities in common—aside from that ‘certain establishment’?”

  Lund shrugged and said, “Well, we played golf together from time to time.”

  “And where did you do that?” Bill asked.

  “At the Cedar Creek Country Club, over in Monarch.”

  Riley’s attention quickened at the mention of the town’s name …

  Monarch!

  Riley remembered the golf course that had been visible from Edwin Gray Harter’s house.

  It might be the exact same club, she thought.

  Lund continued, “Any golfer who can afford it goes to one or another of the Monarch clubs. Andrew didn’t have a membership there, but I do. In happier times, I let Andrew play there on my membership.”

  Then with a sigh, he added, “A pity what happened to him.”

  With those words, Lund gave Riley a long piercing look.

  She managed to suppress a deep shudder.

  “I think that will be all,” Riley said to him. “Thank you for your time and help.”

  Lund looked surprised and perhaps even disappointed that their little scene was over. As she and her colleagues headed on out of the building, Jared asked, “So what do you think? Did we find out anything back there?”

  Bill didn’t reply, and Riley didn’t either.

  But deep in her gut, Riley felt all but sure of something …

  We were just talking to a cold-blooded killer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  As Riley and her colleagues walked out of the building toward their rented car, she mulled over her impressions of Harrison Lund.

  That he was an evil man she had no doubt.

  But did she have any hard evidence against him?

  Not so far, she thought.

  Lund’s cunning and intelligence worried her even more than his palpably evil nature.

  When they reached the car, Jared commented, “We haven’t eaten anything since we left Atlanta.”

  “I’ll drive,” Bill said. “Just direct me to the nearest hamburger joint.”

  Jared consulted his cell phone and directed them to a little café. They found a booth out of immediate earshot from the other customers and settled down to talk quietly.

  “So what do you think about our interview just now?” Bill asked Riley as they waited for their sandwiches.

  Riley paused for a moment, then said, “I’m all but sure he’s a coldblooded killer.”

  Jared’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “Wow,” he said. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  Before Riley could reply, Bill said to Jared, “Instincts. She’s got good ones, the best in the business.”

  Then Bill told Riley, “I had a bad feeling about that one too. I’m glad it wasn’t just me.”

  “So what do we do now?” Jared asked.

  Before they could start discussing the question, a waitress came and took their orders. Then Riley’s phone buzzed and she saw that the call was from Brent Meredith.

  Riley glanced around. Their corner of the café was still clear of other customers, so she took the call and put Meredith on speakerphone.

  Meredith sounded even more gruff than usual.

  “Tell me you’re making progress.”

  “We might be,” Riley said. “We’re not just sure just yet.”

  “Well, get sure, and fast. I’m catching hell here in Quantico. Special Agent in Charge Walder is breathing down my neck all the time now. He’s furious that these murders are getting so much media attention, and he thinks we look incompetent. To make things worse, he knew one of the murdered guys.”

  Riley remembered Bill saying that Walder had played golf with one of them.

  “Which one?” Riley asked.

  “Julian Morse, the millionaire in Birmingham. They used to get together for drinks whenever they were in the same area.”

  Riley and Bill exchanged glances. Riley knew they were both wondering the same thing.

  Bill said, “Did Walder mention having played golf with him?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  Riley took a breath. “Did Walder happen to say which golf course they played at?”

  “The Scofield Country Club, right here near DC. Why do you ask?”

  Riley wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Instead, she and Bill gave Meredith a verbal rundown of all that had happened since Bill had arrived. She also introduced Meredith to Jared Ruhl, who seemed uncharacteristically awestruck to be in on a conversation with an actual FBI team chief.

  Finally Riley said, “And we just interviewed a possible suspect. He’s an architect here in Birmingham—”

  Riley broke off when the waitress appeared with their coffees.

  “Hold on,” Riley told Meredith.

  “Here you are, sweetie,” the waitress said cheerfully. “Sugar is there on the table. Do any of you want cream?”

  Riley could hear Meredith’s grunt of surprise.

  “Where are you?” he growled.

  “Getting lunch,” Bill replied. “This place is pretty empty.”

  The waitress put the coffees down and left them alone again.

  “All clear now,” Riley said.

  “Don’t say another word,” Meredith snapped. “Take me off speakerphone.”

  Wondering what Meredith was going to say, Riley switched off the speaker and put the phone to her ear.

  Meredith asked, “Is the man you just interviewed Harrison Lund?”

  “How did you know?”

  Meredith fell silent for a moment.

  “I need you to be very discreet with what I’m about to tell you. Don’t share this with anyone but your two colleagues,” he said. “One of our units has been investigating Harrison Lund for a couple of years now. We’re on the verge of proving that he personally hired the killings of five different men in three different countries.”

  Riley breathed sharply at Meredith’s words.

  She asked, “What were the motives?”

  “Three seem to have been about business issues—trouble with zoning permissions, broken contracts, that kind of thing. But two of them seem to have been purely personal, petty quarrels possibly. In fact, all of them were probably personal at some level. We believe that he simply enjoys making hits with hired killers and getting away with it. He doesn’t seem to know that we’re closing in on him. We want to keep it that way.”

  Riley remembered something Lund had said …

  “I didn’t like how Andrew treated the ladies …”

  Might that have been enough of a reason for Lund to want Andrew Farrell dead?

  Riley’s mind clicked away, trying to make sense of this new information.

  She asked Meredith, “What was the MO for the five killings?”

  Meredith said, “They were done the old-fashioned way—bullet to the heart, another to the head. Look, Walder’s expecting me to update him right now, so I’ve got to go. I also have to notify the team that’s working on the Lund case about your interaction with Lund. They need to know that. Keep me updated, OK? And close your case quick.”

  The call ended just as their sandwiches were served. Riley thought that her over-toasted grilled cheese sandwich helped explain why the café was so empty. She saw that Bill took a skeptical look at his burger, but both he and Jared chomped down on them hungrily.

  While they ate, Riley quietly filled them in on what Meredith had told her about Lund.

  Jared could barely keep his voice down from excitement.

  “Then Lund’s our killer,” he said
. “All we’ve got to do is close in on him.”

  Bill shook his head and said, “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not?” Jared said.

  Riley suppressed a sigh and said, “Bill’s right. Our killer’s MOs don’t match Lund’s hits. I’m not saying Lund’s not our killer. We can’t be sure he’s not. But there would have to be some good reason for him to start ordering his henchmen to brutally stab his victims instead of just shooting them.”

  Jared looked like he could hardly believe his ears.

  “Lund’s a sadistic asshole. Isn’t that enough of a reason? He got bored, didn’t get enough of a kick out of ordinary hits. So he dialed things up a notch, ordered nastier killings. Doesn’t that make sense?”

  Neither Bill nor Riley replied.

  The truth was, it didn’t make much sense to Riley, and she knew it didn’t make much sense to Bill either.

  At least my gut feeling about Lund wasn’t wrong, she thought.

  Lund was definitely a killer. But if he wasn’t the killer they were looking for, she know they’d better leave it up to the other FBI team to bring him to justice. Although Riley couldn’t discount the possibility that Lund had hired the latest murders, it didn’t seem likely. She and her team needed to expand their search.

  Jared said, “The truth is, they’re all assholes. Lund’s an asshole, and so were Morse, Harter, and Farrell. If Lund’s not the killer, then I feel like rooting for whoever the killer really is. He’s doing society a service. Why don’t we just leave things alone? Don’t we have worthier people to protect and serve?”

  Bill looked at Jared with annoyance.

  He said, “We all feel that way about some cases. It’s kind of a dumb rookie thing to talk about it, though.”

  Jared’s mouth dropped open with shock.

  “Bill’s right,” Riley said. “Our job is to enforce the law, not try to be judge and jury. We’ve got a case to solve. And murder affects a lot more people than just the victims.”

  She gave Jared a hard look and added, “And if you’re not all in with us, you’d better tell us now. Bill and I can get along without you.”

  Jared looked hurt now.

  “Count me in,” he murmured.

  They ate in silence for a moment, mulling over what to do next.