Blake Pierce - Once Forsaken

Her non-answer disarmed Riley, but she took care not to show it. The woman fastened her cold, blue eyes on Riley’s. Riley didn’t flinch. She just returned her stare, bracing herself for a subtle battle of wills.

Riley said, “The Behavioral Analysis Unit is investigating an unusual number of apparent suicides at Byars College.”

“ Apparent suicides?” Webber said, arching a single eyebrow. “I’d hardly describe Deanna’s suicide as ‘apparent.’ It seemed plenty real to my husband and me.”

Riley could swear that the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees. Webber betrayed not the slightest hint of emotion at her mention of her own daughter’s suicide.

She’s got ice water in her veins, Riley thought.

“I’d like you to tell me what happened,” Riley said.

“Why? I’m sure you’ve read the report.”

Of course, Riley had done nothing of the kind. But she had to keep bluffing her way along.

“It would help if I could hear it in your own words,” she said.

Webber was silent for a moment. Her stare was unwavering. But so was Riley’s.

“Deanna was injured in a riding accident last summer,” Webber said. “Her hip was badly fractured. It seemed likely that it would have to be replaced altogether. Her days of riding in competitions were over. She was heartbroken.”

Webber paused for a moment.

“She was taking oxycodone for the pain. She overdosed—deliberately. It was intentional, and that’s all there is to it.”

Riley sensed that she was leaving something unsaid.

“Where did it happen?” she asked.

“In her bedroom,” Webber said. “She was snug in her bed. The medical examiner said she died of respiratory arrest. She looked like she was asleep when the maid found her.”

And then—Webber blinked.

She literally blinked.

She had faltered in their battle of wills.

She’s lying! Riley realized.

Riley’s pulse quickened.

Now she had to really apply the pressure, probe with exactly the right questions.

But before Riley could even think of what to ask, the office door opened. The woman who had brought Riley here came in.

“Congresswoman, I need a word with you, please,” she said.

Webber looked relieved as she got up from her desk and followed her assistant out the door.

Riley took some long, slow breaths.

She wished she hadn’t been interrupted.

She was sure she’d been about to crack through Hazel Webber’s deceptive facade.

But her opportunity wasn’t gone.

When Webber came back, Riley would start in on her again.

After less than a minute, Webber returned. She seemed to have recovered her self-assurance.

She stood by the open door and said, “Agent Paige—if you really are Agent Paige—I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

Riley gulped hard.

“I don’t understand.”

“My assistant just called the BAU. They have absolutely no investigation underway concerning suicides at Byars College. Now whoever you are—”

Riley pulled out her badge.

“I am Special Agent Riley Paige,” she said with determination. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that such an investigation gets underway as soon as possible.”

She walked past Hazel Webber out of the office.

On her way out of the house, she knew that she had made an enemy—and a dangerous one at that.

It was a different sort of danger from what she usually faced.

Hazel Webber wasn’t a psychopath whose weapons of choice were chains, knives, guns, or blowtorches.

She was a woman without a conscience, and her weapons were money and power.

Riley preferred the kind of adversary she could punch out or shoot. Even so, she was ready and willing to deal with Webber and whatever threats she could muster.

She lied to me about her daughter, Riley kept thinking.

And now Riley was determined to find out the truth.

The house seemed empty now. Riley was surprised to leave without encountering a single soul. She felt as if she could rob the place and not get caught.

She went outside and got into her car and drove away.

As she approached the manor gate, she saw that it was closed. Standing just inside were both the burly guard who had let her in and the enormous butler. Both had their arms crossed, and they were obviously waiting for her.

The two men definitely looked threatening. They also looked a little bit ridiculous—the smaller of the two wearing his guard uniform, his much more massive partner wearing his ultra-formal butler’s outfit.

Like a pair of circus clowns, she thought.

But she knew they weren’t trying to be funny.

Riley pulled her car to a stop right in front of them. She rolled down her window, looked out, and called to them.

“Is there some sort of problem, gentlemen?”

The guard came closer, directly in front of her car.

The colossal butler lumbered toward her passenger window.

He spoke in a rumbling bass voice.

“Representative Webber would like to clear up a misunderstanding.”

“And that would be?”

“She wants you to understand that snoops aren’t welcome here.”

Now Riley got the picture.

Webber and her assistant had come to the conclusion that Riley was an imposter, not an FBI agent at all. They probably suspected that she was a reporter getting ready to write some sort of exposé about the congresswoman.

No doubt these two guys were used to dealing with nosy reporters.

Riley pulled out her badge again.

“I think there has been a misunderstanding,” she said. “I really am a special agent with the FBI.”

The big man smirked. He obviously believed the badge was a fake.

“Step out of the car, please,” he said.

“I’d rather not, thank you,” Riley said. “I’d really appreciate if you’d open the gate.”

Riley had left her door unlocked. The big man opened it.

“Step out of the car, please,” he repeated.

Riley groaned under her breath.

This isn’t going to end well, she thought.

Riley stepped out of the car and shut the door. The two men moved to stand side by side a short distance from her.

Riley wondered which of them was going to make the first move.

Then the huge man cracked his knuckles and strode toward her.

Riley took a couple of steps toward him.

As he reached out for her, she grabbed him by his lapel and the sleeve of his left arm and tugged him off balance. Then she pivoted all the way around on her left foot and ducked down. She barely felt the man’s massive weight as his whole body flew over her back. He slammed loudly and upside-down against the car door and then landed head first on the ground.

The car got the worst of it, she thought with fleeting dismay.

The other man was already moving toward her, and she whirled to face him.

She landed a kick to his groin. He bent over with a huge groan, and Riley could see that the altercation was over.

She snatched the man’s pistol from his hip holster.

Then she surveyed her handiwork.

The larger man still lay in a crumpled heap beside the car, staring at her with a terrified expression. The car door was dented, but not as badly as Riley had feared. The uniformed guard was on his hands and knees gasping for breath.

She held the pistol, handle first, toward the guard.

“You seem to have misplaced this,” she said in a pleasant voice.

His hands trembling, he reached for the gun.

Riley pulled it away from him.

“Huh-uh,” she said. “Not until you open the gate.”

She took the man by the hand and helped him to his feet. He staggered to the shack and threw the switch that opened the iron gate. Riley walked toward the car.