Blake Pierce - Once Craved

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.

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.