“That’s all,” he said. “I’m ready.”
Riley was flooded by rage, horror, and confusion. This was the last thing she had expected. Derrick Caldwell had chosen to make his last living moments all about her. And sitting here behind this unbreakable shield of glass, she was helpless to do anything about it.
She had brought him to justice, but in the end, he had achieved a weird, sick kind of revenge.
She felt Gail’s small hand gripping her own.
Good God, Riley thought. She’s comforting me.
Riley fought down a wave of nausea.
Caldwell said one more thing.
“Will I feel it when it begins?”
Again, he received no reply. Riley could see fluid moving through the transparent IV tubes. Caldwell took several deep breaths and appeared to fall asleep. His left foot twitched a couple of times, then fell still.
After a moment, one of the guards pinched both feet and got no reaction. It seemed a peculiar sort of gesture. But Riley realized that the guard was checking to make sure the sedative was working and that Caldwell was fully unconscious.
The guard called out something inaudible to the people behind the curtain. Riley saw a renewed flow of fluid through the IV tubes. She knew that a second drug was in the process of stopping his lungs. In a little while, a third drug would stop his heart.
As Caldwell’s breathing slowed, Riley found herself thinking about what she was watching. How was this different from the times she had used lethal force herself? In the line of duty, she had killed several killers.
But this was not like any of those other deaths. By comparison, it was bizarrely controlled, clean, clinical, immaculate. It seemed inexplicably wrong. Irrationally, Riley found herself thinking …
I shouldn’t have let it come to this.
She knew she was wrong, that she had carried out Caldwell’s apprehension professionally and by the book. But even so she thought …
I should have killed him myself.
Gail held Riley’s hand steadily for ten long minutes. Finally, the official beside Caldwell said something that Riley couldn’t hear.
The warden stepped out from behind the curtain and spoke in a clear enough voice to be understood by all the witnesses.
“The sentence was successfully carried out at 9:07 a.m.”
Then the curtains closed across the window again. The witnesses had seen all that they were meant to see. Guards came into the room and urged everybody to leave as quickly as possible.
As the group spilled out into the hallway, Gail took hold of Riley’s hand again.
“I’m sorry he said what he said,” Gail told her.
Riley was startled. How could Gail be worried about Riley’s feelings at a time like this, when justice had finally been done to her own daughter’s killer?
“How are you, Gail?” she asked as they walked briskly toward the exit.
Gail walked along in silence for a moment. Her expression seemed completely blank.
“It’s done,” she finally said, her voice numb and cold. “It’s done.”
In an instant they stepped out into the morning daylight. Riley could see two crowds of people across the street, each roped away from the other and tightly controlled by police. On one side were people who had gathered to cheer on the execution, wielding hateful signs, some of them profane and obscene. They were understandably jubilant. On the other side were anti–death penalty protesters with their own signs. They’d been out here all night holding a candlelight vigil. They were much more subdued.
Riley found that she couldn’t muster sympathy for either group. These people were here for themselves, to make a public show of their outrage and righteousness, acting out of sheer self-indulgence. As far as she was concerned, they had no business being here – not among people whose pain and grief were all too real.
Between the entrance and the crowds was a swarm of reporters, with media trucks nearby. As Riley waded among them, one woman rushed up to her with a microphone and a cameraman behind her.
“Agent Paige? Are you Agent Paige?” she said.
Riley didn’t reply. She tried to go past the reporter.
The reporter stayed with her doggedly. “We’ve heard that Caldwell mentioned you in his last words. Do you care to comment?”
Other reporters closed in on her, asking the same question. Riley gritted her teeth and pushed on through the throng. At last she broke free from them.
As she hurried toward her car, she found herself thinking about Meredith and Bill. Both of them had implored her to take on a new case. And she was avoiding giving either of them any kind of an answer.
Why? she wondered.
She had just run away from reporters. Was she running away from Bill and Meredith as well? Was she running away from who she really was? From all that she had to do?
*
Riley was grateful to be home. The death she had witnessed that morning still left her with an empty feeling, and the drive back to Fredericksburg had been tiring. But when she opened the door of her townhouse, something didn’t seem right.
It was unnaturally silent. April should be home from school by now. Where was Gabriela? Riley went into the kitchen and found it empty. A note was on the kitchen table.
Me voy a la tienda, it read. Gabriela had gone to the store.
Riley gripped the back of a chair as a wave of panic swept over her. Another time that Gabriela had gone to the store, April had been kidnapped from her father’s house.
Darkness, a glimpse of flame.
Riley turned and ran to the foot of the stairs.
“April,” she screamed.
There was no answer.
Riley raced up the staircase. Nobody was in either of the bedrooms. Nobody was in her small office.
Riley’s heart was pounding, even though her mind was telling her that she was being foolish. Her body wasn’t listening to her mind.
She raced back downstairs and out onto the back deck.
“April,” she screamed.
But no one was playing in the yard next door and no kids were in sight.
She stopped herself from letting out another scream. She didn’t want these neighbors convinced that she was truly crazy. Not so soon.
She fumbled at her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She texted a message to April.
She received no reply.
Riley went back inside and sat down on the couch. She held her head in her hands.
She was back in the crawlspace, lying on the dirt in the darkness.
But the small light was moving toward her. She could see his cruel face in the glow of the flames. But she didn’t know whether the killer was coming for her or for April.
Riley forced herself to separate the vision from her present reality.
Peterson is dead, she told herself emphatically. He will never torture either of us again.
She sat up on the sofa and tried to focus on here and now. Today she was here in her new home, in her new life. Gabriela had gone to the store. April was surely somewhere nearby.
Her breathing slowed, but she couldn’t make herself get up. She was afraid she’d go outside and yell again.
After what seemed like a long time, Riley heard the front door opening.
April walked through the door, singing.
Now Riley could get to her feet. “Where the hell have you been?”
April looked shocked.
“What’s your problem, Mom?”
“Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my text?”
“Sorry, I had my phone on mute. Mom, I was just over at Cece’s house. Just across the street. When we got off the school bus, her mom offered us ice cream.”
“How was I supposed to know where you were?”
“I didn’t think you’d be home yet.”
Riley heard herself yelling, but couldn’t make herself stop. “I don’t care what you thought. You weren’t thinking. You have to always let me know …”
The tears running down April’s face finally stopped her.
Riley caught her breath, rushed forward, and hugged her daughter. At first April’s body was stiff with anger, but Riley could feel her relax slowly. She realized that tears were running down her own face too.
“I’m sorry,” Riley said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that we went through so much … so much awfulness.”
“But it’s all over now,” April said. “Mom, it’s all over.”
They both sat down on the couch. It was a new couch, bought when they had moved here. She had bought it for her new life.
“I know that it’s all over,” Riley said. “I know that Peterson is dead. I’m trying to get used to that.”
“Mom, everything is so much better now. You don’t have to worry about me every minute. And I’m not some stupid little kid. I’m fifteen.”
“And you’re very smart,” Riley said. “I know. I’ll just have to keep reminding myself. I love you, April,” she said. “That’s why I get so crazy sometimes.”
“I love you too, Mom,” April said. “Just don’t worry so much.”
Riley was delighted to see her daughter smile again. April had been kidnapped, held captive, and threatened with that flame. She seemed to be back to being a perfectly normal teenager even if her mother hadn’t yet regained her stability.
Still, Riley couldn’t help but wonder whether dark memories still lurked somewhere in her daughter’s mind, waiting to erupt.
As for herself, she knew that she needed to talk to somebody about her own fears and recurring nightmares. It would have to be soon.
Chapter Six
Riley fidgeted in her chair as she tried to think of what she wanted to tell Mike Nevins. She felt unsettled and edgy.
“Take your time,” the forensic psychiatrist said, craning forward in his office chair and gazing at her with concern.
Riley chuckled ruefully. “That’s the trouble,” she said. “I don’t have time. I’ve been dragging my feet. I’ve got a decision to make. I’ve put it off too long already. Have you ever known me to be this indecisive?”
Mike didn’t reply. He just smiled and pressed his fingertips together.
Riley was used to this kind of silence from Mike. The dapper, rather fussy man had been many things to her over the years – a friend, a therapist, even at times a sort of mentor. These days she usually called on him to get his insight into the dark mind of a criminal. But this visit was different. She had called him last night after getting home from the execution, and had driven to his DC office this morning.
“So what are your choices, exactly?” he finally asked.
“Well, I guess I’ve got to decide what I’m going to do with the rest of my life – teach or be a field agent. Or figure out something else entirely.”
Mike laughed a little. “Hold on a minute. Let’s not try to plan your whole future today. Let’s stick to right now. Meredith and Jeffreys want you to take a case. Just one case. It’s not either/or. Nobody says you’ve got to give up teaching. And all you’ve got to do is say yes or no this once. So what’s the problem?”
It was Riley’s turn to fall silent. She didn’t know what the problem was. That was why she was here.
“I take it you’re scared of something,” Mike said.
Riley gulped hard. That was it. She was scared. She’d been refusing to admit it, even to herself. But now Mike was going to make her talk about it.
“So what are you scared of?” Mike asked. “You said you were having some nightmares.”
Riley still said nothing.
“This has to be part of your PTSD problem,” Mike said. “Do you still have the flashbacks?”
Riley had been expecting the question. After all, Mike had done more than anybody to get her through the trauma of an especially horrible experience.
She leaned her head back on the chair and closed her eyes. For a moment she was in Peterson’s dark cage again, and he was threatening her with a propane flame. For months after Peterson had held her captive, that memory had constantly forced its way into her mind.
But then she had tracked down Peterson and killed him herself. In fact, she had beaten him to a lifeless pulp.
If that’s not closure, I don’t know what is, she thought.
Now the memories seemed impersonal, as though she was watching someone else’s story unfold.
“I’m better,” Riley said. “They’re shorter and much less often.”
“How about your daughter?”
The question cut Riley like a knife. She felt an echo of the horror she’d experienced when Peterson had taken April captive. She could still hear April’s cries for help ringing through her brain.
“I guess I’m not over that,” she said. “I wake up afraid that she’s been taken again. I have to go to her bedroom and make sure that she’s there and she’s all right and sleeping.”
“Is that why you don’t want to take another case?”
Riley shuddered deeply. “I don’t want to put her through anything like that again.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Riley said.
Another silence fell.
“I’ve got a feeling there’s something more,” Mike said. “What else gives you nightmares? What else wakes you up at night?”
With a jolt, a lurking terror surfaced in her mind.
Yes, there was something more.
Even with her eyes wide open, she could see his face – Eugene Fisk’s babyish, grotesquely innocent-looking face with its small, beady eyes. Riley had looked deeply into those eyes during their fatal confrontation.
The killer had held Lucy Vargas with a razor at her throat. At that moment, Riley probed her most terrible fears. She’d talked about the chains – those chains that he believed were talking to him, forcing him to commit murder after murder, chaining up women and slitting their throats.
“The chains don’t want you to take this woman,” Riley had told him. “She isn’t what they need. You know what the chains want you to do instead.”
His eyes glistening with tears, he’d nodded in agreement. Then he’d inflicted the same death upon himself that he had inflicted upon his victims.
He slit his own throat right before Riley’s eyes.
And now, sitting here in Mike Nevins’s office, Riley almost choked on her own horror.
“I killed Eugene,” she said with a gasp.
“The chain killer, you mean. Well, he wasn’t the first man you killed.”
It was true – she’d used deadly force a number of times. But with Eugene, it had been very different. She’d thought about his death quite often, but she’d never talked to anybody about it before now.
“I didn’t use a gun, or a rock, or my fists,” she said. “I killed him with understanding, with empathy. My own mind is a deadly weapon. I’d never known that before. It terrifies me, Mike.”
Mike nodded sympathetically. “You know what Nietzsche said about looking too long into an abyss,” he said.
“The abyss also looks into you,” Riley said, finishing the familiar saying. “But I’ve done a lot more than look into an abyss. I’ve practically lived there. I’ve almost gotten comfortable there. It’s like a second home. It scares me to death, Mike. One of these days I might go into that abyss and never come back out. And who knows who I might hurt – or kill.”
“Well, then,” Mike said, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe we’re getting somewhere.”
Riley wasn’t so sure. And she didn’t feel any closer to making a decision.
*
When Riley walked through her front door a while later, April came galloping down the stairs to meet her.
“Oh, Mom, you’ve got to help me! Come on!”
Riley followed April up the stairs to her bedroom. An open suitcase was open on her bed and clothes were scattered all around it.
“I don’t know what to pack!” April said. “I’ve never had to do this before!”
Smiling at her daughter’s mixed panic and exhilaration, Riley set right to work helping her get her things together. April was leaving tomorrow morning on a school field trip – a week in nearby Washington, DC. She’d be going with a group of advanced American History students and their teachers.
When Riley had signed the forms and paid the extra fees for the trip, she’d had some qualms about it. Peterson had held April captive in Washington, and although that had been far off on the edge of the city, Riley worried that the trip might dredge up the trauma. But April seemed to be doing extremely well both academically and emotionally. And the trip was a wonderful opportunity.