Once Lured. Blake Pierce

cage. Even so, Bill had visited her frequently in the hospital. He’d never mentioned that he was also working this case.

      She turned toward Bill.

      “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asked.

      Bill’s face looked grim.

      “It wasn’t a good time,” he said. “You had troubles of your own.”

      “Who was your partner?” Riley asked.

      “Agent Remsen.”

      Riley recognized the name. Bruce Remsen had transferred out of Quantico before she had come back to work.

      Then after a pause, Bill added, “I couldn’t crack the case.”

      Now Riley could read his expression and tone of voice. After years of friendship and partnership, she understood Bill as well as anybody did. And she knew that he was deeply disappointed with himself.

      Flores brought up the medical examiner’s photos of the girls’ naked backs. The bodies were so wasted away that they barely seemed real. Both backs bore old scars and fresh welts.

      Riley felt a gnawing discomfort all over now. She was taken aback by the feeling. Since when had she gotten queasy about photos of corpses?

      Flores said, “They were both starved almost to death before their necks were broken. They were also severely beaten, probably over a long period of time. Their bodies were moved to where they were found postmortem. We have no idea where they were actually killed.”

      Trying not to let her rising unease get the best of her, Riley mulled over similarities with cases she and Bill had solved during the last few months. The so-called “dolly killer” had left his victims’ bodies where they could be easily found, posed naked in grotesque doll-like positions. The “chain killer” hung the bodies of his victims up off the ground, wildly decked in heavy chains.

      Now Flores brought up the image of another young woman – a cheerful-looking redhead. Alongside the photo was one of a beat-up, empty Toyota.

      “This car belonged to a twenty-four-year-old Irish immigrant named Meara Keagan,” Flores said. “She was reported missing yesterday morning. Her car was found abandoned just outside an apartment building in Westree, Delaware. She worked there for a family as maid and nanny.”

      Now Special Agent Brent Meredith spoke. He was a daunting, big-boned African-American with angular features and a no-nonsense demeanor.

      “She got off her shift at eleven o’clock the night before last,” Meredith said. “The car was found early the next morning.”

      Special Agent in Charge Carl Walder leaned forward in his chair. He was Brent Meredith’s boss – a babyish, freckle-faced man with curly, copper-colored hair. Riley didn’t like him. She didn’t think he was especially competent. It didn’t help that he’d once fired her.

      “Why do we think this disappearance is linked with the earlier murders?” Walder asked. “Meara Keagan is older than the other victims.”

      Now Lucy Vargas chimed in. She was a bright young rookie with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion.

      “You can see by the map. Keagan disappeared in the same general area where the two bodies were found. It might be coincidence, but it seems unlikely. Not over a period of five months, all so close together.”

      Despite her increasing discomfort, Riley was pleased at the sight of Walder wincing a little. Without meaning to, Lucy had put him in his place. Riley hoped he wouldn’t find some way to get back at Lucy later on. Walder could be petty that way.

      “That’s correct, Agent Vargas,” Meredith said. “Our guess is that the younger girls were abducted while hitchhiking. Very likely along this highway that runs through the area.” He pointed out a specific line on the map.

      Lucy asked, “Isn’t hitchhiking banned in Delaware?” She added, “Of course, that can be hard to enforce.”

      “You’re right about that,” Meredith said. “And this isn’t an interstate or even the main state highway, so hitchhikers probably do use it. Apparently the killer does too. One body was found alongside this road and the other two are less than ten miles from it. Keagan was taken about sixty miles north along that same route. With her he used a different ruse. If he follows his usual pattern, he’ll keep her until she’s almost starved to death. Then he’ll break her neck and leave her body the same way as before.”

      “We’re not going to let that happen,” Bill said in a tight voice.

      Meredith said, “Agents Paige and Jeffreys, I want to you to get right to work on this.” He pushed a manila folder stuffed with photos and reports across the table toward Riley. “Agent Paige, here’s all the info you need to bring you up to speed.”

      Riley reached toward the folder. But her hand jerked back with a spasm of horrible anxiety.

      What’s the matter with me?

      Her head was spinning, and out-of-focus images started to take shape in her brain. Was this PTSD from the Peterson case? No, it was different. It was something else entirely.

      Riley got up from her chair and fled the conference room. As she hurried down the hallway toward her office, the images in her head came into sharper focus.

      They were faces – faces of women and girls.

      She saw Mitzi, Koreen, and Tantra – young call girls whose respectable attire masked their degradation even from themselves.

      She saw Justine, an aging whore hunched over a drink at a bar, tired and bitter and fully prepared to die an ugly death.

      She saw Chrissy, virtually imprisoned in a brothel by her abusive pimp husband.

      And worst of all, she saw Trinda, a fifteen-year-old girl who had already lived a nightmare of sexual exploitation, and who could imagine no other life.

      Riley arrived in her office and collapsed into her chair. Now she understood her onslaught of revulsion. The images she’d seen just now had been a trigger. They’d brought to the surface her darkest misgivings about the Phoenix case. She’d stopped a brutal murderer, but she hadn’t brought justice to the women and girls she’d met. A whole world of exploitation remained. She hadn’t even scratched the surface of the wrongs they endured.

      And now she was haunted and troubled in a way she’d never known before. This seemed worse than PTSD to her. After all, she could give vent to her private rage and horror in a sparring gym. She had no way to get rid of these new feelings.

      And could she bring herself to work another case like Phoenix?

      She heard Bill’s voice at the door.

      “Riley.”

      She looked up and saw her partner looking at her with a sad expression. He was holding the folder Meredith had tried to give her.

      “I need you on this case,” Bill said. “It’s personal for me. It makes me crazy that I couldn’t crack it. And can’t help wondering if I was off my game because my marriage was falling apart. I got to know Valerie Bruner’s family. They’re good people. But I haven’t stayed in touch with them because … well, I let them down. I’ve got to make things right with them.”

      He put the folder on Riley’s desk.

      “Just look at this. Please.”

      He left Riley’s office. She sat staring at the folder in a state of indecision.

      This wasn’t like her. She knew she had to snap out of it.

      As she mulled things over, she remembered something from her time in Phoenix. She had been able to save one girl named Jilly. Or at least she had tried.

      She took out her phone and dialed the number for a shelter for teenagers in Phoenix, Arizona. A familiar voice came on the line.

      “This is Brenda Fitch.”

      Riley was glad that Brenda took the call. She’d gotten to know the social worker during her previous case.

      “Hi,