Блейк Пирс - Once Stalked

Then Riley went to April’s bedroom and looked in on her. April was sitting up in bed reading a book.

April looked up at her mother.

“Hey, Mom,” she said. “What’s up?”

Riley stepped quietly into the room.

She said, “This is going to seem weird but … I’ve got to leave right now. I’ve been assigned to a case in California.”

April smiled.

She said, “Jilly and I both pretty much guessed that was what your meeting back in Quantico was all about. And then we saw that go-bag on your bed. We actually thought you were going to leave before her play. You usually don’t pack it unless you’re out the door.”

She stared at Riley, her smile widening.

“But then you stayed,” she added. “I know you delayed the trip, at least for the play. Do you know how much that meant to us?”

Riley felt herself tear up. She leaned forward and the two of them embraced.

“So it’s OK if I go, then?” Riley asked.

“Sure, it’s OK. Jilly told me she hoped you’d catch some bad guys. She’s really proud of what you do, Mom. So am I.”

Riley felt moved beyond words. Both of her daughters were growing up so fast. And they were becoming really amazing young women.

She kissed April on the forehead.

“I love you, dear,” she said.

“I love you too,” April said.

Riley wagged her finger at April.

“Now what are you doing up?” she said. “Turn off that light and go to sleep. It’s a school night.”

April giggled and turned off the light. Riley went to her own bedroom to get her bag.

It was after midnight and she had to drive to DC in time for a commercial flight.

It was going to be a long night.

The wolf lay on his stomach on the rough desert soil.

That’s how the man thought of himself – a beast stalking his next kill.

He had an excellent view of Fort Nash Mowat from this high place, and the night air was pleasant and cool. He peered at tonight’s prey through the night-vision scope on his rifle.

He thought back to his hated victims.

Three weeks ago it had been Rolsky.

Then came Fraser.

Then came Worthing.

He’d taken them out with great finesse, with shots to the head so clean they surely hadn’t even known a bullet had hit them.

Tonight, it would be Barton.

The wolf watched Barton walking along an unlit path. Although the image through the night scope was grainy and monotone, the target was sufficiently visible for his purposes.

But he wouldn’t shoot tonight’s prey – not yet.

He 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.

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.