Once Craved (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #3)
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“Hi, dear. What’s going on?” she said.
To her alarm, she heard her daughter sobbing.
“I saw him,” April said.
“Saw who?”
“Peterson. He’s alive. He looked right at me. He recognized me.”
Riley’s heart was pounding.
“What’s wrong?” Bill asked. He had seen the change in Riley’s expression.
Riley didn’t answer. She needed to get away so she could talk to April alone. She left the hotel restaurant and walked toward her room.
“You know that’s not possible, April,” she said.
And of course, it wasn’t possible. She remembered as if it were yesterday. April herself had struck Peterson down with a rifle stock, and then Riley had caved in his forehead with a sharp rock. Finally there had been his dead eyes gazing up at her as river water trickled over his face.
But even then, she couldn’t believe it until April said …
“Mom. He’s dead.”
Peterson was dead, all right. It had only been because of Brent Meredith’s sympathy and discretion that Riley hadn’t gotten a stiff reprimand for the force she’d used. But she understood what April was going through all too well. Riley herself had experienced a flashback just last night at the Iguana Lounge, and she still had nightmares about being caged and threatened with flames.
April was still sobbing. Her gasping voice on the phone sounded terrified.
“We were getting off our tour bus just now,” she cried. “There he was, right in the street. He looked straight at me. He grinned. I know he’s going to kill me. I need your help.”
Those last four words—”I need your help”—stung Riley’s heart. It didn’t matter that Peterson was dead. April did need her desperately. But here she was, all the way across the country.
“Have you called your dad?” Riley asked. “He’s probably in DC now.”
“No. I didn’t think of him.”
Riley sighed. She knew that after a lifetime of emotional distance April had scant reason to want to call her father.
“I need you, Mom. I need you right now.”
Riley didn’t know what to say. April seemed to have forgotten that Riley was in Phoenix. And that was the last thing April needed to hear right now.
“Let me talk to your teacher,” Riley said.
A moment later, Riley heard a different voice on the line.
“This is Lorna Culver. Is this April’s mother?”
“Yes, this is Riley Paige.”
The woman’s voice sounded terribly agitated.
“Ms. Paige, I don’t know what to do. She’s calmer than she was a minute ago, but she was completely hysterical. You’ve got to get here right away.”
“I can’t,” Riley said. “I’m in Arizona.”
“Well, I’ll take her right back to the hotel,” she said. “But I can’t be responsible for her while she’s in this state of mind.”
Riley wanted to yell at the woman.
Can’t be responsible? Isn’t that your job?
But she kept her voice under control.
“Give me your cell phone number,” she said.
During the conversation, Riley had gotten back to her room. She wrote down the number on a pad and told Ms. Culver her own number.
“I’ll call April’s father,” she told the teacher, then ended the call.
She paced anxiously back and forth as she called Ryan’s cell phone number. She was relieved when she got her ex-husband and not his answering service.
“Hi, Riley,” he said, trying to sound cordial. “How are you? It’s been a while.”
It was all Riley could do to keep herself from bursting into tears.
“Ryan, it’s April. She’s in Washington, and she’s having an attack of PTSD. It’s from the whole awful thing with Peterson. She’s—”
Ryan interrupted her.
“Wait a minute. Slow down. What’s she doing in Washington?”
Riley sat down on the edge of the bed. She took a long, slow breath.
“She’s on a class field trip,” Riley explained, speaking slowly and carefully. “She’s been there since Saturday. It’s supposed to be a whole week.”
She wanted to add, And if you cared at all about your daughter, you’d know that already. But she stopped herself.
She continued. “She thought she saw Peterson—the man who abducted her. She didn’t, of course. He’s dead. But this is serious, Ryan. I’ve been through my share of PTSD and believe me, it’s terrifying. You’ve got to go help her.”
“Why me? Why can’t you go?”
“Because I’m in Phoenix, Ryan. Phoenix, Arizona. I’m working on a case. I just can’t get there.”
“Well, I’m in Philadelphia. I’m working a court case. I can’t get there either.”
Riley couldn’t keep her voice from shaking with rage.
“You can get there, Ryan. You can fly there in an hour. Hell, you can drive there in less than three hours. I can’t get there that soon. I can’t get there at all.”
Ryan replied in a patronizing tone that Riley had heard thousands of times.
“This is your responsibility, Riley. And it’s your fault she’s going through this. It’s that damn job of yours. You’re the one who put her in harm’s way. You couldn’t just stay at home and be a normal mother. You fly back to DC. Right now. This isn’t my problem.”
Riley fought down a stream of curses and still said nothing.
“Did you hear what I said, Riley?”
Riley knew that there was no way to get him to face facts. He’d always assumed his right to be distant. His work was always too important for him to get caught up in everyday problems. His job was to be successful. His job was to make rich clients even richer. He’d never accepted that Riley’s job of catching monsters was at least as important.
“Riley?” Ryan said. “Did you hear me?”
She had to find another way to help April, and this was a waste of time. She hung up.
If I never have to talk to that bastard again, it’ll be too soon, she thought.
To make things worse, he’d hit her where it hurt, the very core of her guilt and self-doubt. Might life have been better for all three of them—Riley, April, and Ryan—if she’d never become an agent? But what would she have become if she had stayed at home? One of those secret drunk housewives? How could that have been better for anybody?
Worst of all, how could she have failed to see this coming? She’d convinced herself that April was doing fine. But of course it was too good to last. From her own experience with PTSD, she should have known better. There was no way April could have recovered so quickly and easily. She couldn’t possibly be fully free of the trauma of her captivity or the added trauma of helping her mother kill her captor.
An image flashed through Riley’s mind.
It was her friend Marie Sayles, suspended in mid-air, hanging by her neck from a cord tied to a light fixture on her bedroom ceiling.
Riley’s mouth went dry at the memory. Marie, too, had been held captive by Peterson. Her fear of her tormenter drove her to suicide. Riley had desperately tried to talk her out of her fear on the phone, assuring her that Peterson was dead. But it made no difference.
“You killed his body but you didn’t kill his evil,” Marie had said just minutes before she took her own life.
And Riley knew that April was experiencing exactly the same despair at that very moment. She might do anything to escape her terror. Her greatest danger was to herself.
Just then she heard a knock at the door. When she answered it, Bill was standing outside.
“Riley, are you OK?” he asked.
Riley was relieved to see him. She vaguely realized that she’d just been angry with him. But at this moment, she couldn’t even remember what it was all about. It seemed like a long time ago.
“Come on in,” she said. “It’s April. She’s having a PTSD attack.”
Bill nodded sympathetical
ly. Riley knew that he didn’t need to be reminded of the trauma that April had endured.
“Bill, I don’t know what to do,” Riley said. “Ryan refuses to help. And here I am, thousands of miles away!”
“What about Mike Nevins?” Bill said.
The very mention of the name brought a wave of hope. Yes, who could be better to turn to right now than the forensic psychiatrist who had helped her through her own trauma?
“Of course,” Riley said, grateful for Bill’s suggestion. She’d been too distraught to think of the obvious answer. She dialed his direct number, then heard a comforting, familiar voice.
“Riley?”
Riley felt a swell of gratitude that Mike had answered his phone.
“Mike, I need your help. April’s in Washington on a field trip, and PTSD has kicked in. She’s sure that she saw Peterson. She thinks he wants to kill her.”
“How bad is she?” Mike asked.
“I don’t know. Her teacher doesn’t seem to know what to do. Ryan is out of town. I don’t know who else to turn to.”
There was a short pause. Then Mike spoke in a steady, reassuring voice.
“Have you got the teacher’s number?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Give me the number, and your daughter’s too. I’ll get in touch with them. And I’ll find out where April is and go pick her up. Meanwhile, I think you’d better get over here.”
For a moment, Riley was at a complete loss for words. She managed to gasp out, “Thank you, Mike. Thank you.” She gave him the numbers, then ended the call.
Bill was sitting in a chair. Riley was still pacing.
“I’ve got to fly back right now,” she said.
“I understand,” Bill said. “I’ll explain things to Morley.”
“No, I’ll call him. I’ll tell him myself.”
Bill shook his head uneasily.
“Riley, I don’t know …”
“It’s my responsibility, Bill. This is all my responsibility. I’m calling him right now.”
“All right,” Bill said. “I’ll get online and book you on the next flight I can get.”
Riley opened her laptop for Bill to use. Then she dialed Special Agent in Charge Elgin Morley’s number. When she heard his gruff voice answer, she knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.
“Agent Morley, I’ve got to leave Phoenix,” she said. “I’m flying straight back to Washington.”
“You’re what?”
Morley sounded understandably incredulous.
“My daughter’s having a nervous breakdown. I don’t have time to tell you the whole story. But it’s serious. She needs me.”
Morley’s voice was sounding angry now.
“We need you,” he said. “There’s a killer out there, and he’s going to kill again soon, if he hasn’t done so already. I’m not giving you permission to leave. You need to stay right here and do your job.”
Riley gathered up her nerve and said, “I’m not asking for your permission,” she said. “I’m catching the next flight out.”
“Agent Paige, you’d damn well better not get on that plane. It’s bad enough that you and your partner botched things up last night.”
“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Riley said.
“No, you won’t be coming back. Don’t even bother. If you leave, I’m calling Meredith. I’ll have you taken off the case. You might never work for the Bureau again.”
Riley knew that she ought to be upset by this threat. But she couldn’t bring herself to worry about it right now.
“I understand,” she told Morley. She ended the call.
Bill was poring over information on the computer screen.
“I’ve booked a nonstop flight,” he said. “But we’ve got to hurry. It leaves in an hour.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
Watching the earth roll by below was torturous to Riley. The plane seemed to be moving at a mere crawl. The slowness was only an illusion, she knew. But she also knew that a lot could happen during the four and a half hours she was going to be airborne.
Terrible things, she thought. And again, she remembered Marie’s hanging body.
But she drove the horrible image from her head. No, nothing like that was going to happen this time. Mike had called Riley back and told her that he’d found out where to pick up April and was on his way there. And before takeoff, Riley had managed to get through to her daughter, who still sounded terrified but promised her that she’d be all right.
Riley was anxious about other things as well. She kept remembering Morley’s anger and what he had told her just a little while ago.
“I’ll have you taken off the case. You might never work for the Bureau again.”
Was it true? Was her career as an FBI agent over? At the moment, she wasn’t entirely sure that she cared. This was the first time she had ever put being a mother over working a case.
Maybe, she thought, it was about time she did just that. Maybe this decision was long overdue. Still, she more than understood Morley’s point of view. Her decision had been thoroughly unprofessional. She’d left an important job unfinished. It was just like Morley had said …
“There’s a killer out there, and he’s going to kill again soon, if he hasn’t done so already.”
As the plane lifted higher, that distorted sense of motion became even more bizarre. In her mind, she was still crawling toward her daughter. At the same time, she knew that she was hurtling away from another responsibility at unthinkable speed. She had no idea which feeling was worse.
*
When she arrived at Reagan National Airport that evening, Riley hastily rented a car and drove through heavy traffic to Mike Nevins’s office. It took at least an hour to get there. When she found Mike Nevins sitting in a chair just outside of his office, she felt a stab of concern. Where was April?
But Mike’s smile as he stood up to greet her was deeply reassuring.
“She’s here, Riley,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
He opened the office door, and he and Riley walked inside. She saw April sitting in a chair, talking intently with a young woman who looked concerned and sympathetic.
April leaped to her feet and threw herself into her mother’s arms, sobbing.
“Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry,” she cried.
Riley could barely hold her upright. The poor girl felt absolutely limp and exhausted from her ordeal.
“What are you talking about?” Riley said, stroking her hair. “It’s not your fault. Nothing’s your fault.”
“I know he’s dead. I don’t know what happened to me.”
“It’s OK,” Riley said.
When Riley finally released April, the young woman rose to shake her hand.
Mike explained, “Riley, this is Rose Shepard—a resident. Rose, this is April’s mother, Riley.”
“Your daughter is going to be just fine,” Rose said.
“Thank you,” Riley said.
“Rose and April are doing some great work together,” Mike said. “Let’s you and I go talk.”
Mike gently took Riley by the arm and escorted her out of the office. They sat down together in two chairs in the hallway.
“April’s in good hands with Rose,” Mike said. “She’s young and smart and empathetic. I’m a little too used to dealing with psychopaths to be of much help in a situation like this. I just don’t have the right touch.”
“How is she?” Riley asked.
Mike stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“This has been coming on for a while,” he said. “She’s been repressing things too long. It’s good that it’s starting to come out.”
Riley flinched at that word, “starting.” Mike obviously meant that April wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“I should have seen this coming,” Riley said.
“Beating yourself up about it won’t help, Riley. April has to do her own healing at her own pace. It’s not up to you. This is a necessary part of the process.”
>
The dapper, bookish man leaned toward Riley with a concerned look.
“But how about you, Riley? How are you doing?”
Riley shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. I can see it in your face. You need to talk to me.”
Riley wanted to tell Mike that it was only the time change bothering her. Flying through time zones could stress out her body clock. But he was right, of course.
“Mike, I don’t know what to do anymore. I left in the middle of a case. The Arizona chief is furious. Did I do the right thing?”
“Only you can decide that, Riley.”
Riley sighed miserably. “Said like a true shrink,” she said.
Mike chuckled a little. “Yeah, and you know it’s true,” he said.
Indeed, she did know it was true. And she knew that Mike wanted her to talk it out.
She said, “I keep finding myself up against the same problem over and over again. How can I be both an agent and a mother? Is it even possible? Am I wrong to even try? Ryan’s mad at me too. Of course, he’s always mad at me, but this time I almost wonder if he’s right. He says I should have just stayed at home and been a mother. Is that true? Maybe April would be better off with him.”
Mike scoffed a little. “You know better than that.”
Riley said nothing. But of course Mike was right again. She did know better than to think that April belonged with her irresponsible, philandering, emotionally distant father. She was letting her self-pity get the best of her.
“The impossible hours are bad enough,” she said. “It’s worse that I’m always putting myself in danger, and that she might lose me one of these days. But I wound up putting her in danger too, and look at what it’s done to her. I’m so afraid that something like that is going to happen again.”
Mike knitted his brow, giving Riley’s words his best professional attention.
“You seem to think that your situation is entirely unique to you,” he said. “Sure, the stakes are more dire for you than for most parents. But it’s a simple fact of raising a child—there’s not always a single right thing to do. Most parents make peace with that fact sooner or later. But not you. You keep right on thinking that you should be able to do the impossible. Why is that, do you think?”