Blake Pierce - Once Gone

She took hold of that arm and twisted it behind his back, pushing him face-first against a brick wall.

“I’m Special Agent Riley Paige, FBI,” she snapped. “Where are you holding Cindy MacKinnon? Is she still alive?”

The man was shaking from head to foot.

“Who?” he asked, his voice trembling. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Riley snapped, feeling more naked than ever without her badge – and especially without her gun. How was she supposed to bring this guy in without drawing a weapon? She was a long way from Quantico, and she didn’t even have a partner to help her.

“Lady, I don’t know what this is all about,” the man said, bursting into tears.

“What are these roses for?” Riley demanded. “ Who are they for?”

“My daughter!” the man cried out. “Her first piano recital is tomorrow.”

Riley was still holding him by his right arm. The man’s left hand was flat against the wall. Riley suddenly noticed something that hadn’t caught her eye until now.

The man was wearing a wedding ring. She’d been all but sure that the murderer wasn’t married.

“Piano recital?” she said.

“Mrs. Tully’s students,” he cried. “You can ask anyone in town.”

Riley loosened her grip a little.

The man went on, “I bought her roses to celebrate. For when she takes her bow. I bought her a doll too.”

Riley released the man’s arm and walked over to where he had dropped the package. She picked it up and pulled out its contents.

It was a doll, all right – one of those teenage-girl dolls that always offended and disturbed her, all sexed up with full lips and an ample bosom. But as creepy as it was, it looked nothing like the kind of doll she’d seen near Daggett. That doll was of a little girl. So was the doll she’d seen in the picture of Cindy MacKinnon and her niece – all frilly and golden-haired and dressed in pink.

She had the wrong man. She gasped for breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the man. “I was wrong. I’m so, so sorry.”

Still shaking with shock and confusion, the man was picking up the roses. Riley bent over to help him.

“No! No!” the man exclaimed. “Don’t help! Stay away! Just – get away from me!”

Riley turned and walked out of the alley, leaving the forlorn man to gather up his daughter’s roses and doll. How could she have let this happen? Why did she go so far with it? Why had she not noticed the man’s wedding ring the moment she saw him?

The answer was simple. She was exhausted, and her head was splitting. She wasn’t thinking straight.

As she walked dazedly down the sidewalk, a neon storefront sign for a bar caught her eye. She wanted a drink. She felt like she needed a drink.

She went into the dimly lit place and sat down at the bar. The bartender was busy waiting on another customer. Riley wondered what the man she had just accosted was doing right now. Was he calling the police? Was she about to be apprehended herself? That would certainly be a bitter irony.

But she guessed that the man probably wouldn’t call the police. After all, he’d have a hard time explaining what had happened. He might even feel embarrassed at having been attacked by a woman.

Anyway, if he had called the police, and they were on their way to get her, it wouldn’t do to make a run for it. If she had to, she’d face the consequences of her actions. And maybe she deserved to be arrested. She remembered her conversation with Mike Nevins, how he’d drawn her attention to her own feelings of worthlessness.

Maybe I’m right to feel worthless, she thought. Maybe it would have been better if Peterson had just killed me.

The bartender stepped toward her.

“What will you have, ma’am?” he asked.

“A bourbon on the rocks,” Riley said. “Make that a double.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender said.

She reminded herself that it wasn’t like her to drink on the job. Her agonizing recovery from PTSD had been marked by occasional bouts of intense drinking, but she’d thought that was behind her.

She took a sip. The rough drink felt comforting going down.

She still had one more town to visit, and at least one more person to interview. But she needed something to calm her nerves.

Well, she thought with a bitter smile, at least I’m not officially on duty.

She finished the drink quickly, then talked herself out of ordering another. The toy store in the next town would close soon, and she had to get there right away. Time was running out for Cindy MacKinnon – if it hadn’t run out already.

As she left the bar, Riley sensed that she was walking on the edge of a familiar abyss. She had thought she’d left all that horror, pain, and self-loathing far behind. Was it catching up with her again?

How much longer, she wondered, could she evade its deadly pull?

Riley’s cell phone buzzed early the next morning. She was sitting at her coffee table, looking at the map she had followed yesterday, planning a new route for today. When she saw that the call was from Bill, her nerves quickened. Would this be good or bad news?

“Bill, what’s going on?”

She heard her former partner sigh miserably.

“Riley, are you sitting down?”

Riley’s heart sank. She was glad that she was sitting down. She knew now that Bill’s tone of voice could only mean one terrible thing, and she felt her muscles weaken with dread.

“They’ve found Cindy MacKinnon,” Bill said.

“And she’s dead, isn’t she?” Riley said with a gasp.

Bill said nothing for a moment. But his silence answered Riley’s question. Riley felt tears welling up – tears of shock and helplessness. She fought against them, determined not to cry.

“Where did they find her?” Riley asked.

“Pretty far to the west of the other victims, in the national forest, almost to the West Virginia line.”

She looked at her map. “What’s the nearest town?” He told her and she found the approximate location. It wasn’t inside the triangle made by the other three sites where bodies had been found. But still, there must be some sort of relationship with the other sites. She couldn’t quite place what it was.

Bill continued describing the discovery.

“He put her next to a cliff in an open area, no trees around it. I’m at the scene right now. It’s horrible. He’s getting bolder, Riley.”

And acting faster, Riley thought with despair. He’d only kept this victim alive for a few days.

“So Darrell Gumm really is the wrong guy,” Riley said.

“You’re the only one who said so,” Bill replied. “You were right.”

Riley struggled to comprehend the situation.

“So has Gumm been released?” she asked.

Bill grunted with annoyance.

“Not a chance,” he said. “He’ll be facing obstruction charges. He’s got a lot to answer for. Not that he seems to care. But we’ll try to keep his name out of the news as much as we can. That amoral prick doesn’t deserve the publicity.”

A silence fell between them.

“Damn it, Riley,” Bill said at last, “if only Walder had listened to you, maybe we could have saved her.”

Riley doubted that. It wasn’t as if she’d had any solid leads of her own; but maybe with all that redirected manpower, something could have been turned up in those precious hours.

“Have you got any photos?” she asked. Her heart was pounding.

“Yeah, Riley, but – ”

“I know you’re not supposed to show them to me. But I’ve got to see them. Could you send them to me?”

After a pause, Bill said, “Done.”