Once Stalked. Блейк Пирс

wasn’t far enough away. Someone nearby might be able to figure out his location, even though he had attached a flash hider to his M110 sniper rifle. He wasn’t going to make the amateurish mistake of underestimating the soldiers on this base.

      Following Barton through his scope, the wolf enjoyed the feel of the M110 in his hands. These days the Army was transitioning toward using the Heckler & Koch G28 as a standard sniper rifle. While the wolf knew the G28 was lighter and more compact, he still preferred the M110. It was more accurate, even if it was longer and harder to conceal.

      He had twenty rounds in the magazine, but he only intended to use one when the time came to fire.

      He was going to take out Barton with one shot, or not at all.

      He could feel the energy of the pack, as though they were watching him, giving him their support.

      He watched as Barton finally arrived at his destination – one of the base’s outdoor tennis courts. Several other players greeted him as he stepped onto the court and unpacked his tennis gear.

      Now that Barton was in the brightly lit area, the wolf had no further need of the night scope. He detached it to use the day optical sight. Then he took aim directly at Barton’s head. The image was no longer grainy, but crystal clear and in full, vivid color.

      Barton was about three hundred feet away now.

      At that range, the wolf could depend upon the rifle’s precision down to an inch.

      It was up to him to stay within that inch.

      And he knew that he would.

      Just a slight squeeze of the trigger, he thought.

      That was all that was needed now.

      The wolf basked in that mysterious, suspended moment.

      There was something almost religious about those seconds before pulling the trigger, when he waited for himself to will the shot, waited for himself to decide to squeeze with his finger. During that moment, life and death seemed strangely out of his hands. The irrevocable move would happen in the fullness of an instant.

      It would be his decision – and yet not his decision at all.

      Whose decision was it, then?

      He fancied that there was an animal, a true wolf, lurking inside him, a remorseless creature that took actual command over that fatal moment and movement.

      That animal was both his friend and his enemy. And he loved it with a strange love that he could only feel toward a mortal enemy. That inner animal was what called out the best in him, kept him truly up to the mark.

      The wolf lay waiting for that animal to strike.

      But the animal didn’t.

      The wolf didn’t pull the trigger.

      He wondered why.

      Something seems wrong, he thought.

      It quickly occurred to him what it was.

      The view of the target in the glaring tennis court floodlights through the regular scope was simply too clear.

      It would take too little effort.

      There was no challenge.

      It wouldn’t be worthy of a true wolf.

      Also, it was too soon after the last killing. The others had been spaced out to stir up anxiety and uncertainty among the men he loathed. Shooting Barton now would disrupt the psychological rhythmic impact of his work.

      He smiled a little at the realization. He got to his feet with his gun and started to walk back the way he’d come.

      He felt right about leaving his prey undisturbed for now.

      No one knew when he’d strike next.

      Not even he himself.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      It was still dark when Riley’s commercial flight took off. But even with the time change, she knew it would be daylight in San Diego when she got there. She was going to be in the air for more than five hours and she was already feeling quite tired. She had to be fully functional tomorrow morning when she joined Bill and Lucy for the investigation. There would be serious work to do, and she needed to be ready for it.

      I’d better get some sleep, Riley thought. The woman seated next to her already seemed to be dozing.

      Riley tilted her chair back and closed her eyes. But instead of falling asleep, she found herself remembering Jilly’s play.

      She smiled as she recalled how Jilly’s Persephone had bonked Hades over the head and escaped the Underworld to live life on her own terms.

      Remembering how she had first found Jilly made Riley’s heart ache. It had been night in a truck stop parking lot in Phoenix. Jilly had run away from a miserable home life with an abusive father and climbed into the cab of a parked truck. She had fully intended to sell her body to its driver whenever he came back.

      Riley shuddered.

      What would have become of Jilly if she hadn’t stumbled across her that night?

      Friends and colleagues had often told Riley what a good thing she’d done by bringing Jilly into her life.

      So why didn’t she feel better about it? Instead, she felt pangs of despair.

      After all, there were countless Jillys in the world, and very few of them were ever rescued from terrible lives.

      Riley couldn’t help all of them, any more than she could rid the world of all vicious killers.

      It’s all so futile, she thought. Everything I do.

      She opened her eyes and looked out the window. The jet had left the lights of DC behind, and outside there was nothing but impenetrable darkness.

      As she peered into the black night, she thought about her meeting that day with Bill, Lucy, and Meredith, and what little she knew about the upcoming case. Meredith had said that the three victims were shot from a long distance by a skilled marksman.

      What did that tell her about the killer?

      That killing was a sport to him?

      Or that he was on some kind of sinister mission?

      One thing seemed certain – the killer knew what he was doing, and he was good at it.

      The case was definitely going to be a challenge.

      Meanwhile, Riley’s eyelids were feeling heavy.

      Maybe I can get some sleep, she thought. Again she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

*

      Riley was staring at what looked like thousands of Rileys, all of them standing at odd angles toward each other, becoming smaller and finally vanishing into the distance.

      She turned a little, and so did all the other Rileys.

      She lifted her arm, and the others did as well.

      Then she reached out, and her hand came in contact with a glass surface.

      I’m in a hall of mirrors, Riley realized.

      But how had she gotten here? And how was she going to get out?

      She heard a voice call out …

      “Riley!”

      It was a woman’s voice, and somehow familiar to her.

      “I’m here!” Riley called back. “Where are you?”

      “I’m here too.”

      Suddenly, Riley saw her.

      She was standing directly in front of her, in the midst of the multitude of reflections.

      She was a slight, attractive young woman, wearing a dress that looked many decades out of style.

      Riley immediately knew who it was.

      “Mommy!”