by Blake Pierce
Ryan interrupted, “It’s OK, Riley. It’s OK to vent. Actually, I wish you’d vent a whole lot more.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “You can vent to me all you like, you know. I’m OK with it, really. I guess …”
He paused for a moment.
“I guess I’ve already come to care for you.”
Riley was startled.
Do we feel the same way about each other? she wondered.
Then Ryan said, “But you’ve got to realize you can’t get through this without professional help of some sort. If not the campus counselors … well, somebody. I just can’t cut it.”
He paused for a moment. When she said nothing, he added in a slightly bitter tone …
“Even if you wanted to talk to me, which I guess you don’t.”
Ryan got up off the bed and said, “I’m fixing you something to eat, and I’m not going to take my eyes off of you until you eat it.”
He picked up the bourbon and said, “I’m pouring this out.”
Riley almost protested, but quickly told herself …
Arguing will make me seem like a full-blown alcoholic.
She certainly hoped that wasn’t what she was turning into. But the truth was, she’d gone through most of Ryan’s bourbon since she’d gotten here.
Riley watched as he poured the bourbon down the sink. Then he set to work making grilled cheese sandwiches.
Riley didn’t move from the bed. She was thinking about what he’d just said …
He thinks I need professional help.
Of course that must have seemed perfectly obvious—at least to him.
She understood why he felt like she was shutting him out. She hadn’t told him about a lot of things. She’d told him a little about finding the bodies of both Rhea and Trudy. But nothing about the hours after she’d found Trudy. Nothing about what she’d been doing at the police station.
He knew that her mother had died, but not that she’d been murdered—much less that Riley had watched it happen when she was only a little girl. He certainly didn’t know how images of her mother’s bleeding body kept merging in her mind with Rhea’s body—and now Trudy’s.
Sometimes these days, it seemed as though her imagination was drowning in blood.
As for getting professional help, she couldn’t begin to imagine confiding in just any old shrink. Maybe she could talk to Dr. Zimmerman about it. Or Agent Crivaro. Or even Professor Hayman, whom Riley admired a lot, and who had inspired her to major in psychology. They’d surely understand. And yet in order to talk to them …
She suppressed a sigh and thought …
I’d have to get out bed. Even out of this apartment.
And right now, that seemed like no easy feat.
She reminded herself that Agent Crivaro was actually just a pager call away. She had reached him that way a couple of times. The first time was to give him Ryan’s phone number. The second time was yesterday, just to check in with him.
He’d told her that the local cops were letting Harry Rampling go. The two guys Harry had named for his alibi had given conflicting accounts of his actions that night, but Crivaro figured that was just because they’d been seriously drunk. In any case, the cops didn’t have nearly enough evidence to keep Harry in custody.
Still, the local cops were still sure that Harry was the killer, and they were keeping an eye on him. Riley was worried about that. As far as she knew, she and Agent Crivaro were the only people who believed the real killer was still at large. The team from Quantico would have to leave if Chief Hintz decided he didn’t need their help anymore.
What would happen if Crivaro and his team went away?
Would more people die?
Ryan came back over to the bed with two grilled cheese sandwiches and two cups of coffee. He sat down beside Riley again. Suddenly, she felt overwhelmed by the kindness and patience he’d been showing toward her.
And what was he getting in return? She was bringing nothing into his life except her own misery.
He deserves better, she thought.
She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Ryan, I need to talk to you about a few things. I mean … there’s some stuff you should know … about me.”
Ryan set his sandwich aside.
“You can tell me anything,” he said.
Anything? Riley thought. I guess we’ll find out if that’s true.
She began at what seemed to her the beginning—her mother’s brutal murder in the candy store all those many years ago. She was surprised at how calmly she was able to talk about the event that most haunted her in life.
Ryan listened with a dazed expression.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea.”
Riley sighed deeply.
“There’s more,” she said.
She tried to describe that weird night soon after Rhea’s murder—the night when she first slipped into the killer’s brain and walked in his footsteps, feeling what it was like to stalk his prey across the campus. She told him about standing in Rhea’s room later on, imagining how the killer had felt looking down at Rhea’s dead and bleeding body.
Ryan said nothing as she explained how Agent Crivaro had guided her through her most alarming experience so far—her terrifyingly vivid peek into the killer’s psyche as he charmed Trudy into letting him into her room.
But when she got to being at the police station, listening to the interview, and feeling sure that Harry Rampling wasn’t the killer, he broke in.
“Riley, stop. This is crazy. Are you listening to yourself? You’ve really, really got to talk to somebody about all this.”
His voice was shaking with alarm now.
“Are you telling me that FBI guy—Crivaro—played mind games with you? Why? Just for fun?”
Ryan sounded really angry now. Riley wished she could make him understand.
“No,” she said. “He wanted my help. He thinks I’ve got a unique talent. So does Dr. Zimmerman.”
“A talent for what?” Ryan said. “For empathizing with cold-blooded killers?”
Riley almost answered …
“Exactly.”
… but thought better of it.
Ryan got up from the bed and started to pace.
“Riley, are you blind or something? What Crivaro did to you was wrong. He was exploiting you, preying on your vulnerabilities. I doubt that it was even legal. You’ve got to file a complaint.”
Riley was truly shocked now.
Was I exploited? she wondered. The possibility hadn’t occurred to her for a single second.
In fact, she’d do it again in a minute if Agent Crivaro wanted her to.
She felt like she’d do anything to catch the man who had killed Rhea and Trudy.
She was even willing to become the killer, at least for a little while.
What does that say about me? she thought.
Finally she asked, “Ryan, what are we doing here?”
She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t reply. It was a truly enormous question, one that they’d never discussed during the days they’d spent together.
Then she said, “Ryan, I really, really like you.”
Ryan put his arm around her and held her close.
“I really, really like you too,” he said.
Riley gently pulled herself out of his embrace.
“I don’t know why you like me,” she said. “I’m not at my best. Actually, I’m pretty much a basket case. And you’re being so nice to me …”
Her words trailed off.
“What are you trying to say?” Ryan asked.
Riley wasn’t sure. But she knew it was something important. And it needed to be said. She struggled to find the right words.
“You’re a smart guy, Ryan, and you’re really going to go places in life. But tell me the truth. Right now you’re worried, aren’t you? You’re wondering how you can keep up your grades with me around distracting you, with having to take care of me and all. You feel like you’r
e stuck with me. You could … I could … ruin everything—your whole future.”
Ryan shook his head.
“Riley, that’s not—”
Riley interrupted, “It is true, and we both know it.”
They were both silent for a moment. Riley could see by his expression that she’d touched on the truth.
Finally Ryan said haltingly, “Maybe … it would be best … if we kept this … kind of temporary.”
Riley couldn’t help feeling stung.
What did I expect him to say? she wondered.
Trying to keep bitterness out of her voice, Riley said, “I’m thinking … maybe I should get out of here now.”
Another silence fell between them.
He doesn’t disagree, Riley realized.
In fact, she could sense that he was deliberately detaching himself from her now.
It was an emotional ability she’d never noticed in him before. Oddly, she couldn’t help admiring him for it. She figured it would help make him a really good lawyer someday.
Finally Ryan said, “Look, maybe we can try again someday later on, when you’ve got all this stuff straightened out …”
As Ryan’s voice faded, Riley found herself remembering again what her father had told her over the phone …
“You’re just not cut out for a normal life. It’s not in your nature.”
Now those words hit her like a thunderbolt.
He’s so right.
Daddy’s so right.
She said to Ryan, “Yeah, maybe someday later on.”
Then she got up from the bed.
She said, “I’ve got to get dressed. I’ve got to go now.”
Ryan’s mouth dropped open.
“Where are you going to go?” he asked.
Riley didn’t answer his question. The truth was, she was still struggling with that very question.
Instead, she said, “First I’ve got to use your phone.”
She picked up the phone and called a cab company and ordered a cab to come to Ryan’s address in ten minutes.
When she hung up, Ryan was pacing.
“Riley, you don’t need to catch a cab. I can drive you anywhere you want to go.”
Riley ignored him and picked up some clothes and headed toward the bathroom. She was dressed and ready in just a few minutes. She gathered up her toiletries, then came out and picked up the rest of her things.
Ryan seemed to be really upset now.
“Riley, talk to me please. What the hell is this all about? Where are you going?”
Riley walked over to him and gave him a truly affectionate, caring kiss.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Let’s stay in touch.”
Without another word, she walked out of the apartment and left the building. The cab was already waiting for her.
When she got in, the driver asked, “Where to?”
Riley hesitated for a moment. She felt strangely dizzy and frightened, as if she were about to step off a cliff.
She said, “I need to go to the nearest car rental place.”
“Got it,” the driver said.
He started the meter and began to drive.
Riley wondered whether she’d lost her mind.
Maybe I have, she thought.
Or maybe it’s something a whole lot worse than that.
The truth was, she really didn’t know, and she felt like she didn’t understand anything at all—least of all herself.
And as much as the thought horrified her, she could think of just one person in the world she actually wanted to see.
She had to go visit her father—right now.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
After the cab dropped her off, Riley quickly settled on one of the cheapest cars in rental lot. It was a beat-up little hatchback, a no-fringe vehicle even its better days, and those days were in the past. But at least Riley could afford the one-day rent on this one.
After just a few minutes on the road, the engine grumbled a little. It seemed almost as if the car was reluctant and apprehensive—just like Riley herself felt.
Riley’s visits to her father’s cabin had seldom ended well. Her father was anything but a kindly, nurturing presence in her life—or in anyone else’s life, for that matter.
So why am I going up there to see him? she asked herself. Then she laughed lightly, realizing that she asked herself that every time she drove up this mountain.
Maybe because he was the only living relative she had nearby. She didn’t even know where her older sister was at this point, and there was no one else.
She wasn’t yet sure that was reason enough. But she felt strongly that this visit was important.
At least it wasn’t a long drive. After a short while going westward, Riley left the main highway and followed country roads where the Appalachian Mountains sloped closely all around her. The day was pleasant and warm, so she rolled down the window and breathed in the clean, refreshing spring air. She always enjoyed the sights of family farms, rocky passes, and flowing streams.
She passed through just a tiny town called Milladore before her final steep ascent toward her father’s cabin.
Then the car coughed a few times. Riley patted the dashboard and said aloud, “Hang on, little buddy. We can both get through this. The hard part is getting there. It’ll be downhill all the way back. That will be easy.”
Or will it? she wondered. For the car, maybe.
But maybe not for her. She hoped she wouldn’t leave the cabin feeling bitter, angry, and lost, as she often had in the past.
The final turn was onto a winding dirt road that ended at her father’s property. His small cabin came into view, standing in a small clearing that had been cut out of the dense surrounding forest.
Riley had no idea how long the cabin had been there. Her father had bought it when he retired from the Marines. He’d made repairs on it himself. He had cleaned up the old spring and repaired its covering. There was no electricity up here, but she knew that he liked it that way. He could have arranged for electrical and telephone lines to brought near enough for him to connect to, but hadn’t bothered.
As she approached, she saw her father standing beside a large tree stump. He had a pile of short logs that he was splitting into smaller pieces on the stump. He barely paused from his work while Riley parked the car—barely even looked in her direction.
You’d think I came here every day, Riley thought.
He didn’t stop his work as she got out of the car and walked toward him.
He was powerfully built man in his late fifties who had kept both his military haircut and his military bearing. Riley always sensed a lot of anger and fierce independence in his physical deportment.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said.
He glanced at her, nodded, and split another log.
Riley stifled a sigh. It was a familiar task, trying to draw her father out, to get his attention, even to get him to acknowledge her presence.
Riley noticed that a new utility vehicle was parked to one side of the cabin.
“I see you got some new wheels,” she said.
“Yeah, hated to spend the money,” he said, finally stopping for a moment and wiping his brow. “But the other one gave out on me.”
Then he let out a tough, raspy laugh.
“Don’t know why,” he said. “I never drove it anywhere except to church.”
Riley was surprised to feel herself smile at the joke. Daddy was anything but a churchgoing man. But he needed a tough vehicle to navigate these mountains, especially in difficult weather.
He went back to his work. Riley crossed her arms and watched him for a moment.
She said, “Do you really need to cut firewood this time of year?”
“Yeah, if I want to survive the winter. I need a lot of wood for that. Can’t get started chopping too soon. And the wood needs time to season.”
Riley walked toward him and held out her hand.
“Why don’t you let me g
ive you a break for a minute?” she suggested.
Daddy willingly handed her the axe. Riley set a log upright on the stump, raised the axe high, and split the wood cleanly. She was startled at how good the burst of exertion felt. Her father had taught her to split logs from the time she was big enough to wield an axe. Now she realized that she’d missed this kind of mindless physical effort.
Daddy put his hands on his hips and watched her work. He actually smiled a little.
He said, “Isn’t this a school day? Or did you drop out of school?”
“Nah, I’m still at that damn college, getting that useless degree you don’t think I should get. I just felt some kind of urge to come up here and see you.”
“That’s downright kind of you,” he said.
Riley was startled by a hint of softness in his voice.
He sounds almost like he means it, she thought.
Riley split a couple more logs, and then her father said, “I hear there’s been another murder.”
Riley planted the axe in the stump and turned toward him.
“How did you find out?” she said. “I thought you stayed off the grid.”
He shrugged as if trying to look unconcerned.
“I do pretty much. But I go down to Milladore now and again, pick up a newspaper, catch a little TV news at the VFW bar. Just happened to catch word of it.”
Those words really caught Riley’s attention …
“Just happened to catch word of it.”
She sensed that he hadn’t “just happened” to do anything.
Since she’d last talked to him and told him about Rhea’s murder, he must have been spending more time in Milladore keeping track of the news from Lanton.
He’s been worried about me, she realized.
They stood looking at each other for a moment.
He asked, “Another friend of yours?”
Riley nodded, determined not to show any emotion.
“My roommate, Trudy.”
“Damn,” her father said.
“I found her body. And I was the second person to find the other girl’s body. Both of their throats were slashed.”
“Damn,” he repeated.
Then Daddy turned his head toward the woods and said nothing.
Well, I guess that’s all we’re going to say about it, she thought with a flash of disappointment.
