by Blake Pierce
Chapter 23
When Riley reached Quantico and walked into the Behavioral Analysis Unit, both the chief and Bill were waiting for her in Walder’s office. She realized that Bill must have been called in especially for this meeting.
Special Agent in Charge Carl Walder rose from his desk.
“The Senator’s lapdog?” Walder said, his babyish face knotted with anger.
Riley lowered her eyes. She really had gone too far with that remark.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said.
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Agent Paige,” Walder said. “You’ve completely gone off the rails. What were you thinking, going to the Senator’s house to confront him like that? Do you have any idea the damage you’ve done?”
By “damage,” Riley was sure that Walder meant his own personal embarrassment. She couldn’t get very worried about that.
“Have you found Cindy McKinnon yet?” she asked in a low voice.
“No, as a matter of fact, we haven’t,” Walder said sharply. “And frankly, you’re not helping us find her.”
Riley was stung.
“I’m not helping?” she replied. “Sir, I keep telling you, you’re charging the wrong man, and you’re looking in the wrong—”
Riley stopped herself in mid-sentence
Cindy MacKinnon was what mattered right now, not Riley’s ongoing battles with Walder. This was no time for petty squabbling. When she spoke again, it was in a milder tone.
“Sir, even though I feel he may be withholding something, I may have been wrong to unilaterally go and see the Senator without checking with you, and I apologize. But forget about me for a moment. That poor woman’s been missing for well over twenty-four hours. What if I’m right, and someone else is holding her captive? What’s she going through right now? How long has she got?”
His voice cautious, Bill added, “We’ve got to consider the possibility, sir.”
Walder sat down and said nothing for a moment. Riley could see by his expression that he, too, was concerned about the possibility. Then he spoke very slowly, giving weight to each word.
“The Bureau will handle it.”
Riley didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even quite understand what Walder meant. Was he acknowledging his possible mistake? Or was he still determined not to veer from his present course?
“Sit down, Agent Paige,” Walder said.
Riley sat in the chair next to Bill, who glanced at her with mounting concern.
Walder said, “I heard about what happened with your friend today, Riley.”
Riley was jolted a little. She wasn’t surprised that Walder knew about Marie’s death. After all, word that she’d been first on the scene was sure to make its way back to the Bureau. But why was he bringing it up now? Did she detect a note of sympathy in his voice?
“What happened?” Walder asked. “Why did she do it?”
“She couldn’t deal with it anymore,” Riley said in a whisper.
“Couldn’t deal with what?” Walder asked.
A silence fell. Riley couldn’t shape an answer to that question.
“I’ve heard you don’t think Peterson is dead,” Walder said. “I guess I can understand why you can’t shake that idea. But you’ve got to know that it doesn’t make sense.”
There came another pause.
“Did you tell your friend about it?” Walder asked. “Did you tell her about this obsessive idea of yours?”
Riley’s face flushed. She knew what was coming next.
“She was too fragile for that, Agent Paige,” Walder said. “You should have known it would make her snap. You should have used better judgment. But frankly, Agent Paige, your judgment is shot to hell. I hate to say it, but it’s true.”
He is blaming me for Marie’s death, Riley realized.
Riley was fighting back tears now. Whether they were tears of grief or indignation, she didn’t know. She had no idea what to say. Where could she begin? She hadn’t planted that idea in Marie’s head and she knew it. But how could she make Walder understand? How could she explain that Marie had her own reasons to doubt that Peterson was dead?
Bill spoke up again. “Sir, go easy on her, okay?”
“I think I’ve been going too easy on her, Agent Jeffreys,” Walder said, his voice becoming stern. “I think I’ve been too patient.”
Walder held her gaze for a long moment.
“Give me your gun and your badge, Agent Paige,” he finally said.
Riley heard Bill let out a gasp of disbelief.
“Sir, this is crazy,” Bill said. “We need her.”
But Riley didn’t need to be told twice. She rose from her chair and took out her gun and her badge. She placed them on Walder’s desk.
“You can clean out your office in your own good time,” Walder said, his voice steady and unemotional. “Meanwhile, you should go home and get some rest. And get back into therapy. You need it.”
As Riley turned to leave the room, Bill stood up as if to go with her.
“You stay, Agent Jeffreys,” Walder demanded.
Riley eyes met Bill’s. With a look, she told him not to disobey. Not this time. He nodded back to her with a stricken expression. Then Riley left the office. As she walked down the hall, she felt cold and numb, wondering what to do now.
When she stepped out into the cool night air, tears finally started to flow. But she was surprised to realize that they were tears of relief, not despair. For the first time in days, she felt liberated, free from frustrating limitations.
If nobody else was going to do what had to be done, it was still up to her. But at long last, nobody was going to tell her how to do her job. She’d find the killer, and she’d save Cindy MacKinnon—no matter what it took.
