“How can you be sure the exercises will work the way you intend if no one knows what’s going on?”
“We know exactly what’s going on,” Kel stated calmly. “Besides, if you really have a gunman on the loose, he isn’t going to follow a specific pattern. Neither are his victims. The whole point of this training is to learn to use resources, communication, and adaptation to overcome any obstacle.”
“At Commander Bennett’s instruction, no drama student will participate in a given scenario more than once,” Riley added. “That way their reactions will be more realistic.”
“We’ve given you a lot of slack on this one,” Chad said with a healthy dose of arrogance. “I hope it’s not enough to hang yourselves.”
Riley spoke before Kel could further justify his decision. “Mr. Mallard, you are aware of the reasons we chose to have the military develop this course instead of law enforcement officers. Police are trained to handle common situations. The SEALs are trained to anticipate the unexpected.” Riley’s voice was cool and professional. “The course they have developed will give the participants a real taste of the unexpected. Hopefully these participants will remember these lessons when they are forced to use them in the real world.”
Chad’s voice was condescending. “Only time will tell.”
* * *
“Well, that was fun,” Quinn muttered under his breath as they left the administration building and headed back to Sedgely Hall.
“Makes me glad I’m not an officer,” Tristan agreed, glancing back at Kel, who was still stuck making small talk with two members of the task force.
Riley wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “At least you didn’t have to work with them for the past two years.”
Tristan stopped suddenly and looked down at her. “You had to work with them?”
Riley nodded. “All except for Detective Cross. But I knew him from before. He was on campus after the massacre.”
“How did you meet him?” Tristan asked as a little warning bell went off in his head.
Her shoulder lifted, and she hesitated briefly. “He was one of the police officers who visited the counseling centers on campus after the shootings.”
“You were in counseling?” Quinn asked.
“Just about everyone was in counseling,” Riley pointed out. “There were over a hundred counselors on campus the first week alone.”
“I can’t imagine what it would have been like that day,” Tristan said quietly.
“Consider that a blessing,” Riley muttered.
Tristan turned to see Kel heading toward them, finally free of the bureaucrats they had met with. “I say we cut off early and head out to the firing range,” Kel said, tugging at the collar of his dress uniform. “I think we could all use a little stress relief.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Quinn agreed.
* * *
Tristan sat between Kel and Quinn in the second-floor classroom. They had spread out crime photos on the desks in front of them as they tried to analyze what had happened the day of the massacre.
Though he had seen his share of action, Tristan felt his stomach curl as he shifted a particularly gruesome picture to the bottom of the stack. “This crime was aptly named a massacre.”
“Yeah, I’m glad we’re only dealing with make-believe scenarios,” Quinn agreed.
“It’s no wonder so many of the students here went through counseling after it happened,” Tristan said as he shifted yet another photo. “I hate to say it, but once the cops realize they’re dealing with the kind of person who would do something like this, their only choice is to take him out at the first opportunity.”
“Most police departments are using rapid response when dealing with school shootings. What we need to teach these officers is how to break through any barriers the gunman may have created and how to get creative in solving problems,” Kel reminded them.
“Not to mention they have to learn not to assume anything,” Quinn added. “After what happened here and at Virginia Tech, most people would rather deal with a few false alarms than face another disaster.”
Tristan slid another photo to the bottom of the stack. “We should also talk about ways students and teachers can react to defuse the situation. If these cops can go to their hometowns and instruct teachers what to do in a crisis, they might stand a better chance of lowering casualty rates.”
He studied the next photo, and his heart skipped a beat. His fingers froze on the edge of the glossy image of a body sprawled facedown in the very classroom in which he was currently sitting. His eyes narrowed as he studied the figures at the edge of the frame. Victor Cross, the detective they had met that morning, was facing the body being photographed. Standing beside him was a young woman, her face turned away from the camera. Her hair had been a little longer then, but Tristan had no doubt that he was looking at a picture of Riley.
His sudden silence caught his teammates’ attention, and they both looked down to find the source of his tension.
Kel reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tristan. I knew she was here that day, but I had no idea she witnessed it.”
“She told me she was at Oswell at the time, but I knew there was still something she wasn’t telling me,” Tristan said, as much to himself as to the men beside him. “She said she needed more time, that she wasn’t ready to open up old wounds. I had no idea it was this bad.”
Quinn shook his head. “I can’t believe she can even walk into this building after what she must have seen.” He studied the picture again and let out a shaky breath. “She was one of the three. Only three people walked out of this classroom that day. This is where the mass killing started.”
“No wonder she freaked out when she saw us up here prepping the room.” Tristan stood up and started for the door. “I’ve got to go talk to her.”
“Not now.” Kel’s voice edged toward authoritative and succeeded in stopping Tristan in his tracks. “You need to talk to her, but not here.”
Tristan turned, but before he could say anything, Quinn nodded in agreement. “Talk to her tonight.”
“We’re all having dinner together tonight. At her apartment.”
Quinn shook his head. “Not anymore. Tonight you and Riley are having dinner at her apartment.”
“What about everyone else?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Kel assured him.
Quinn nodded. “I’ll call and see if Taylor wants to go out and catch dinner and a movie. That way you can talk to Riley alone.”
“What am I going to say to her?” Tristan put his hands on the front of a desk and leaned heavily on it.
“You’ll figure something out,” Kel assured him. “For now, why don’t you get out of here and go for a run? It will help clear your head.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Tristan straightened and walked to the door. With a glance over his shoulder, he wondered if he was strong enough to share Riley’s nightmares.
13
“Where are you going?” Riley asked when Taylor walked into the living room carrying her purse.
“I have a date,” Taylor told her. “Dinner and a movie.”
“Who are you going with?”
“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Dad.” Taylor grinned. Before her sister could push for answers, she sauntered to the door and called out, “I’ll see you later.”
Riley sighed. “At least Dad would have gotten an answer,” she muttered to herself.
She walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch. She had been looking forward to spending the evening cooking with Amy and then hanging out with the guys. When Amy had called to cancel, she had been vague about the reason, but now Riley was starting to wonder if the squad had some other obligation tonight.
The last thing she wanted tonight was to be alone, especially after the nightmares that had been popping up the last few nights. Preparations were already in full swing for the course that would begin the coming Monday. Riley had made
a point of steering clear of the classrooms and other locations chosen for the training exercises, because everyone was now rehearsing with the drama students. She knew they were only working out the logistics of how to set the scene, so to speak, but she didn’t need any more images coming back to haunt her.
Restlessly, she picked up the remote and turned on the television. She flipped through the channels twice before turning the TV back off and pacing across the room to the window. She half expected to see Tristan’s truck parked outside like it always was on the evenings when she was home. She could hardly remember what she’d done with her free evenings before he had come into town. Since his arrival they had been together constantly. Now that she was faced with a night without him, she wondered if she had grown too dependant on his company.
For the past three weeks, she had stopped making plans, instead waiting to find out what her and Tristan’s plans were. Not that she didn’t have ample opportunity to make suggestions. She just no longer thought of planning her free time without Tristan in mind. What am I going to do when he leaves? she wondered as she forced herself to turn away from the window. They had only five more weeks left—five classes to conduct—and then it would be over.
She knew she needed to find a new job, a new direction, but she selfishly didn’t want to take the time to start searching when she knew those efforts would take away from the time she could spend with Tristan. With a sigh, she went to her room and flipped on the computer. She had to get started eventually.
This chapter of her life was rapidly coming to a close. She had been planning for this, even looking forward to it. She just hadn’t realized that a man like Tristan would be in the picture as she neared the transition. Still, she knew that when the last training course ended, she had to be prepared to leave Bainbridge and Oswell Barron behind once and for all.
* * *
He was stalling. He knew he was stalling, but he couldn’t help it. How was he supposed to talk to her about that day? What was he supposed to say?
Amy had called and cancelled everyone’s plans for dinner at Riley’s place, and Tristan knew that Quinn had already left with Taylor for dinner. His friends had done their part to give him the evening alone with Riley, but now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He hadn’t even been able to work up his nerve to call her and let her know he was going to stop by.
A little voice in his head made him wonder if she would even be there. For all he knew, she had made other plans when everyone had canceled on her. Tristan pulled his truck into his usual spot outside of her apartment and shook the thought away. She was home, even if he wasn’t ready for her to be.
He grabbed the pizza he had picked up on the way over and started for the stairs. When he knocked on the door and she didn’t answer right away, he started to worry. He knocked a second time, torn between wanting to get this talk over with and hoping she really had gone out. Then he heard the doorknob turn, and he forced a smile.
“Hi there. I didn’t think I was going to see you tonight.”
“Have you already eaten?” Tristan asked, holding up the pizza box.
“No, I haven’t.” She stepped back to let him in. “That smells good. Let me just grab some plates.”
He set the pizza box on the kitchen table and flipped the top open. Riley handed him a plate, and he proceeded to dish out a slice of pizza. “So what have you been up to tonight?”
“Job hunting.” She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I should thank you for saving me from that torture.”
Tristan’s lips quirked up, but he couldn’t quite muster the energy for a real smile.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.” Tristan sat down and took a bite of pizza. He could feel Riley’s tension rising as though her mood was feeding off his. He only managed to eat half a slice before he stood up and moved to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Yeah, thanks. There’s some lemonade in the refrigerator.”
Tristan filled two glasses and returned to sit down next to her. She took a sip of hers, but his remained untouched.
“Did you set this up for everyone to cancel tonight?”
His eyes widened. He started to deny it but found there was no purpose in lying. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
She swallowed hard and then slowly lifted her eyes to look at him. “If you want to break things off with me, you just have to say so. We’re both professional enough to be able to work together . . .”
Tristan grabbed her hand and shook his head vehemently. “No, no. I’m sorry you thought that.” He reached across the table and brushed her hair back from her face. “The last thing I want is to stop seeing you.”
Relief crossed her face, followed by confusion. “Then what’s wrong? Something is obviously bothering you.” Riley’s eyes were so dark, so concerned. Tristan hated the thought of digging up her old wounds, but he needed to break down these last barriers between them.
“We were working on Quinn’s disaster plan, and Kel thought we might be more effective if we studied the police file photos from the shooting here.”
“And?” Riley shrugged a shoulder, still not understanding.
His voice was whisper soft, and he blinked hard against tears that he didn’t want to come. “Why didn’t you tell me you were there when it happened?”
She sucked in a quick breath and closed her eyes. “How did you know?”
“There was a picture . . . It doesn’t matter.” Tristan gave her hand a squeeze. “Tell me about it. Tell me what happened.”
“Why? Nothing I say can undo the past. Nothing can bring them back.” Riley pulled her hand free and pushed away from the table. She paced over to the window and stared out into the darkness.
Tristan followed, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. “Something about that day has kept you here. I care about you. I want to understand why you would put yourself in a position to keep reliving that horror.” He waited, hoping she would respond. When she didn’t, he continued. “You could have taken your degree and gone to work somewhere far from here, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you? Why did you join the task force, where you would have to keep remembering?”
Slowly she turned to face him, tears glistening in her eyes. “I survived that day, but he won. If I left, he was going to keep winning.” Riley walked over to the couch and sat down. She put her hands over her face for a moment before looking back up at him, her eyes moist. “The nightmares were awful. I couldn’t even sleep without the light on for months. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see it happening.”
Tristan sat down in the chair across from her, waiting.
Riley forced a laugh, one filled with bitterness. “I was sitting there daydreaming about graduation. I was so proud of myself for making it through school without any help from my parents. They kept saying Oswell was too expensive, that I should go to a local college if I was so set on continuing my education. I wouldn’t listen, and I was just days away from proving I could do it.
“I was taking German because I thought I might want to work overseas for a year or two after graduation. I saw a guy open the door and look into the class, but I didn’t know who he was, so I didn’t pay any attention to him. I think he left and came back a minute later.” Riley waved that thought away. “Not that it really matters. Anyway, I was trying to pay attention, and suddenly my professor was on the ground dying.”
Tristan reached over and took her hand but didn’t offer any words. Tears were streaming down Riley’s cheeks, but he doubted she even noticed them. Her voice grew hoarse as she continued.
“Before I knew what was happening, people all around me were dying. Someone next to me fell to the floor, and I dropped down beside her. I realized that the only way I had a chance to live was to look like I was already dead too. When the shooting stopped, I was so scared I just stayed where I was. I didn’t even try to move until the police came in and realized I was a survivor. Then I opened my eye
s and saw that almost everyone else was dead.”
Tristan gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ve seen how hard it’s been for you to work in Sedgely Hall. If you were so determined to work on the task force, why didn’t you at least arrange for our offices to be somewhere else?”
Riley shrugged a shoulder. “Chad Mallard had already made the arrangements to use Sedgely Hall for the live scenarios. They figured it was the perfect place to set everyone up since that building is so underutilized now.” Her shoulders lifted again. “I couldn’t think of a good excuse to move our office space without admitting I had been there.”
“Mallard doesn’t know?”
“Hardly anyone knows.” Her voice was soft. “Just my family, a couple of cops, and two or three faculty members.”
“And you said you went to counseling.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t have to worry about Dr. Walberg saying anything. If he did, he’d lose his medical license.”
Tristan shook his head. “Why the big secret? Why are you trying to hide the fact that you were there?”
“I don’t want to keep reliving it,” she insisted.
“Riley, like it or not, this is part of your past. If you don’t face it, it’s never going to go away.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. I’m dealing with it.”
Tristan studied her for a moment, not completely convinced. Shifting tactics, he asked, “How long did you stay in counseling?”
“Six months or so.” She wiped at the tears as though suddenly noticing that her cheeks were wet. “It finally got to the point that I felt the counselor wasn’t helping me anymore. It’s like things got darker every time I went in for an appointment.” She shrugged. “That probably sounds silly.”
“Not really. Sometimes counseling makes people focus on the bad and doesn’t give them the opportunity to start concentrating on the positives in their lives.” Tristan moved over to the couch and slipped his arm around her. “Thanks for telling me.”
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