Once Pined

by Blake Pierce

  Or was something more sinister at work?

  Amanda Somers’ death must be their dream come true, Riley thought.

  They’d lived in the shadow of their mother’s fame for their whole lives, and they’d never been able to exploit it.

  Had one or both of them decided to cut their mother’s life short?

  Their eager plunge into their mother’s manuscripts and anticipated rewards certainly suggested a motive.

  Riley struggled to make sense of the possibility. Did either Logan or Isabel have the backbone to carry out a murder—or a series of murders to cover up for this one? Maybe not, but they could have hired someone else for the job.

  Bill’s voice interrupted Riley’s thoughts.

  “I think we’re through here,” he said in a tense, angry voice. “Thank you for your time.”

  Isabel rang for the butler, who escorted Riley and Bill out of the house.

  As they walked toward the car, Bill said, “Do you get the feeling that we were just talking to a couple of viable suspects?”

  “I don’t know, Bill,” Riley said. “It did occur to me, but I just don’t know.”

  *

  When Bill and Riley drove up to the FBI field office a few minutes later, they saw a crowd of people standing around the front entrance.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Bill asked.

  Many of the people were armed with cameras and microphones. Riley had been hoping for a productive discussion of an ongoing investigation. Instead, she and Bill were about to walk into another media ambush.

  She could feel her anger rising.

  She also felt Bill clutch her arm and heard him mutter, “Try not to scare the nice reporters.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  When the crowd of reporters spotted Riley and Bill, they rushed forward and surrounded them, mikes held high and cameras flashing. Riley was furious—though not with the reporters, most of whom she recognized from the disastrous hospital meeting yesterday. She knew that they were only doing their job. But somebody had released news about the case prematurely. And Riley was livid at whoever that “somebody” was.

  The reporters called out as they crushed around Riley and Bill.

  “Agent Paige!” shouted one.

  “Agent Jeffreys!” yelled another.

  “Is it true that you’ve made an arrest in the poisonings case?”

  “How does it feel to have solved the case so quickly?”

  Riley and Bill pushed reporters away, trying to make a path to the front door.

  “You know we can’t discuss a case under investigation,” Bill yelled.

  “But the investigation is over, isn’t it?” shouted a woman with a camera.

  “How did you determine that Solange Landis was the killer?” yelled a man with a microphone.

  “What was her motive?” called out another reporter.

  Riley and Bill managed to get to the front door without answering any questions. A pair of security officers was standing just outside.

  “Don’t let them into the building,” Riley told the officers.

  The officers nodded and moved toward the crowd. Riley and Bill hurried deeper into the building and out of sight of the mob outside. Riley took a moment to catch her breath.

  “Damn it,” she gasped. “I thought we were coming to a meeting to discuss how the case was progressing.”

  Bill shook his head.

  “Well, from what we were just told, the case has been closed. Too bad we had to hear about it from reporters instead of our team.”

  “Yeah, I wonder whose fault that was,” Riley said.

  They hurried up a flight of stairs to the FBI conference room. When they stormed inside, Riley was shocked to see almost everyone looking quite pleased with themselves.

  Maynard Sanderson sat on one side of the big conference table with Agents Lloyd Havens and Jay Wingert flanking him. They all had wide smiles plastered on their faces.

  As usual, Division Chief Sean Rigby was expressing his dominance by standing while the others were seated.

  By contrast, Van Roff appeared to be oblivious as usual. Again he sat at the far end of the table, busy on his laptop.

  Chief Rigby displayed a crooked, self-satisfied smile.

  “You’re running a little late, Agents Paige and Jeffreys,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Riley said, resisting the impulse to pace about angrily. “We got slowed down a bit in front of the building.

  Rigby made a guttural sound that seemed to be the closest he could get to a chuckle.

  “Oh, the reporters, you mean. You can’t blame them for wanting to congratulate you on a job well done. In fact, we all want to congratulate you. Have a seat, both of you.”

  Bill was shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  “I’d rather stand, thanks,” Bill said.

  “Me too,” Riley said.

  Rigby’s smile faded a little. He didn’t sit down either. Riley sensed that he was determined to vie for dominance and would stay on his feet as long as she and Bill did.

  “Why is the media so sure that we’ve got our killer?” Riley asked.

  Rigby said, “All I told them was the truth—that we’ve made an arrest. And I told them the name of the suspect.”

  Maynard Sanderson added in a blustery voice, “Great job, you two. I have to admit, I wasn’t crazy about bringing you in from Quantico. But Chief Rigby made the right call. You’ve done a great job.”

  “We’re not through yet,” Riley said. “Agent Jeffreys and I want to interview the suspect.”

  Rigby shook his head.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said.

  “What do you mean, it won’t be necessary?” Bill said.

  Sanderson said, “You two have already done all the heavy lifting. Our people can handle the rest. We can get a confession out of her. She’s already starting to crack. You two can go back to Quantico now.”

  Riley was almost shaking with anger. She didn’t know what to say. She was relieved that Bill spoke instead.

  “Agent Paige and I understand that you’ve not found any evidence at Solange Landis’s house—no poisons of any kind.”

  Rigby shrugged.

  “Well, that’s to be expected,” he said. “She’s smart, and she knows how to cover her tracks. But it’s only a matter of connecting a few more dots. We all know she’s our killer.”

  “All we know is that she’s guilty of fraud,” Bill said. “That’s not the same as multiple murders.”

  Rigby stared hard at Riley and Bill.

  “The circumstantial evidence is overwhelming,” he said. “You know that as well as anybody. Because of her position at her school, she could have gotten access to any kind of medical facility. That means she could have gotten access to any of our victims.”

  “‘Could have,’” Bill grumbled. “That’s a long way from proof.”

  Riley looked at Van Roff, who seemed to have been paying no attention to what anybody was saying. He was still poring over his computer.

  “What are you doing, Mr. Roff?” Riley said.

  “Still looking,” Roff said in a distant voice. “I’m tracking down people who might have had access—physical therapists, mostly.”

  Riley almost sighed with relief.

  At least someone here is still on the job, she thought. If only I could get through to the others.

  “Listen to me,” she said. “This case isn’t nearly as open-and-shut as it seems. If Solange Landis is guilty, believe me, she’s still got some tricks up her sleeve. She won’t be easy to pin down. If she’s not guilty, we’ve still got a killer out there.”

  Rigby took a few steps toward Riley and Bill.

  “I appreciate your diligence,” he said, sounding more impatient now. “But it really is over.”

  Rigby crossed his arms and glowered for a moment.

  “I’m sure you’ve both got more urgent work waiting for you at Quantico,” he said. “Would you like
me to arrange your flight back?”

  “No, thanks,” Bill muttered. “We’ll take care of it.”

  “Do it soon,” Rigby said. “You may go now. The rest of us can take things from here. And thanks again.”

  At long last, Rigby sat down at the head of the table and faced the others, who turned their attention to him. Riley and Bill were now shut out of whatever was going to be discussed next. They left the room.

  As they stepped out of the building, they were relieved to see that the pack of reporters had apparently moved on to some other story.

  “Guess they got bored waiting,” Bill said.

  “God only knows what kind of story they’re going to spread now,” Riley said.

  They walked in silence toward their car for a moment.

  “What do you think we should do now?” Riley asked.

  “I don’t know about you,” Bill said. “But I could use a drink.”

  “Good idea,” Riley said.

  *

  A little while later, Riley and Bill were settling into a booth at the hotel bar. The bar was busy with lunchtime business, but the booth was very private. Bill waved away the waiter, saying, “We’ll order in a few minutes.”

  He made a call to Brent Meredith at Quantico and they delivered a brief report to him on speakerphone. Riley made her complaints clear about wrapping the case up so fast.

  “I agree with you that there are still some loose ends,” Meredith replied. “But Rigby is the guy who requested you in the first place. If he thinks your work is through there, that’s his decision. Unless you have some overriding evidence to the contrary.”

  Riley sighed. “We’ve got nothing solid,” she said. “But I don’t like this, sir.”

  “You don’t have to like it. That’s just the way things are.”

  A short silence fell.

  “I’ll expect to see you in my office in the morning,” Meredith said.

  “Yes, sir,” Bill agreed. He ended the call.

  Bill and Riley just looked at each other for a moment.

  “I’ve got to admit, I’m relieved,” Bill said wearily. “I can’t get out of here soon enough.”

  Riley was shocked.

  “What are you saying? I’d think that you’d be especially anxious to close this case right.”

  Bill’s brow furrowed.

  “I am. I really am,” he said. “But this whole thing is eating me alive. And it wouldn’t do any good to stay here. The case is closed, according to everybody except—”

  He stopped short of finishing his sentence. Riley bristled.

  “Everybody except me?” Riley said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  Bill didn’t reply.

  “Bill, I want you to look me straight in the eye and tell me that you’re satisfied that we’ve got Solange Landis dead to rights.”

  Bill locked gazes with her, but again he made no reply.

  Finally he said, “I’m calling the pilot to get the plane ready to take us back to Quantico.”

  Riley could hardly believe her ears.

  “You go right ahead and make that call,” she snapped. “But you’ll be getting on that plane alone. I’m staying here until I’m sure that the job gets done right.”

  Bill’s eyes widened with alarm.

  “Riley, are you crazy? You heard what Meredith just said. He’s expecting both of us to report to him tomorrow morning.”

  Riley could feel her throat tightening with anger.

  “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignored an order.”

  Bill looked truly worried about her now.

  “No, it wouldn’t,” he said. “But it might be the last. Riley, you’ve been suspended and fired and reinstated time and time again. Sooner or later your luck is going to run out. When are you going to stop playing with fire?”

  Riley almost had to bite her tongue. How could Bill, of all people, be ready to give up like this?

  Finally she said, “You go ahead and make that phone call. I’m going to order a drink.”

  “Riley—” Bill began.

  She slid out of the booth and strode across to the bar. She ordered a double bourbon on the rocks. While she was waiting, she found herself wondering …

  Am I wrong?

  Everybody else seemed to be so certain that the case was closed. She wasn’t exactly sure why she didn’t feel the same way. Now she regretted being so harsh about it with Bill.

  The bartender served her drink and she paid for it.

  I need to talk things over with Bill, she thought.

  But when she turned toward the booth, she saw that he wasn’t there.

  He’d gone to his room, of course, to pack up for the flight home. He hadn’t even stayed to order lunch.

  Riley wondered if she ought to do the same.

  It wasn’t too late to change her mind.

  She walked back to the booth, slid in, and took a sip of her drink.

  She realized that some vague, unformed doubt had been nagging her ever since she and Bill had arrested Solange Landis.

  What was it exactly?

  Then Riley remembered that moment on the upper deck of Amanda Somers’ floating home.

  She’d caught a fleeting glimpse of the killer’s mind. And she’d realized two things beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  The murderer was a woman …

  And she’s completely insane.

  Did Solange Landis fit that profile?

  It wasn’t impossible. She’d dealt with psychotics who managed to present a sane face to the world. And Landis was very much a mystery to her.

  But Riley couldn’t shake off her doubts.

  Just then her phone buzzed. She saw that the call was from home. She answered and heard April’s frantic voice.

  “Mom, you’ve got to get home right now! Jilly’s in real trouble!”

  “What happened?” Riley asked, trying to stay calm.

  “I don’t know, Mom. I just got home, and Gabriela’s scared to death. She just got a call from Jilly’s school. Jilly cut out of her last couple of classes. And she didn’t come home. We don’t have any idea where she is.”

  Riley felt panic rising. April had gone missing in the past, and she had been in terrible danger.

  It doesn’t have to be the same kind of thing, she told herself.

  “Daddy wants to talk to you,” April said.

  Riley felt a slight relief to hear that Ryan was there. Then she heard Ryan’s voice.

  “Riley, I’m sorry this happened. I’ve been doing my best. But April and Gabriela and I can’t watch her every single minute. She was supposed to be at school.”

  “It’s not your fault, Ryan.”

  “Should we call the police?”

  Riley thought for a moment.

  “No,” Riley said. “It hasn’t been long enough, and the police won’t do anything. We’ll call them later if—”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  She said, “I’m coming home, but I can’t get there until tonight. Can you stay there with April and Gabriela?”

  “Of course,” Ryan said.

  Riley breathed a sigh of gratitude.

  “Thank you, Ryan,” she said.

  “I wish there was something I could do.”

  “You’re doing all you can. I—I really appreciate it.”

  The call ended, and Riley sat staring at the phone for a moment.

  Hurry, she told herself. Bill was getting his stuff together to fly back to Quantico. She had to go with him.

  After all, the FBI was sure she’d caught the Seattle killer.

  Why couldn’t she convince herself that was true?

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  The woman sat at her kitchen table scanning the front page of today’s newspaper.

  The headline blared …

  Nation Mourns Death of Beloved Author

  The woman clicked her tongue with dismay.

  For the second day, the front page was filled with
news about Amanda Somers’ death.

  The woman’s latest victim was getting far too much attention.

  She was surprised to see that the story was still oddly contradictory about the cause of death. It seemed that Somers’ children were calling it a suicide, while the local police and the FBI were investigating it as a murder.

  “You’d think people could make up their minds about something so serious,” she muttered aloud.

  Anyway, she had to be more careful from now on. The police and the FBI were all too aware that there was a poisoner at large. They were already trying to track her down. How long would it take before this latest death was linked to a certain freelance healthcare provider?

  She got up from her table and walked over to a shelf where she kept a dozen cell phones lined up on a rack. Each one was clearly labeled with a name—Susan Guthrie, Esther Thornton, Michelle Metcalf, Miranda Oglesby …

  She picked up the phone labeled Judy Brubaker.

  She’d been Judy Brubaker when she had poisoned Amanda Somers.

  Just yesterday a clinic had called this very phone asking if Judy Brubaker was available. She’d politely told them that no, Judy Brubaker had to leave town for a family emergency.

  But now it appeared that Judy Brubaker needed to disappear for good.

  It made her sad.

  She’d liked Judy Brubaker.

  Everybody had liked Judy Brubaker.

  But like Hallie Stillians a few days ago, Judy Brubaker had to go. Just like others had disappeared over the years.

  She took the phone over to the kitchen counter and pulled a heavy wooden rolling pin out of a drawer. She rolled it back and forth over the phone, cracking and crushing the thing until she was sure that it was completely destroyed.

  She tossed the phone into the trash.

  Then she sat down at the table again and gazed around her kitchen. She sighed contentedly. She loved this house so much! It was amazing how happy she’d been living here. Even after a whole lifetime, she never tired of her cozy home. She’d taken great care to keep it exactly as it had been during her childhood—a shrine to her perfect life.

  She sighed at the thought that not everybody’s childhood had been as happy as hers. Not everybody’s life was as rich and meaningful.