As Riley followed Bill and Lucy down the hallway toward Chief Meredith’s office, she tried to figure out why she felt so unsettled. She couldn’t put her finger on just what was troubling her.
She realized that it was partly a sensation she was long since used to – that familiar heightened apprehension she got whenever she was about to get new orders.
But something else was mixed in with that feeling. It didn’t feel like fear or foreboding. She’d been on too many jobs in her career to be unduly worried about what was ahead.
It was something she barely recognized.
Is it relief? Riley wondered.
Yes, maybe that was it.
The ceremony and the reception had felt so bizarre and unreal, stirring up conflicting thoughts and waves of emotions.
Heading to Meredith’s office was familiar, comfortable … and it felt like an escape of sorts.
But an escape into what?
Doubtless into a well-known world of cruelty and evil.
Riley felt a shiver go up her spine.
What did it say about her that she was more comfortable with cruelty and evil than she was with celebration and praise?
She didn’t want to dwell on that question, and she tried to shake off that anxious feeling as she walked. But she couldn’t quite do it.
It seemed that she was feeling less and less comfortable in her own skin these days.
When Riley, Bill, and Lucy reached Meredith’s large office, the chief was standing beside his desk.
Someone else was already there – a young African-American woman with short straight hair and large, intense eyes. She stood up at the sight of Riley and her companions.
Meredith said, “Agents Paige, Jeffreys, and Vargas, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Jennifer Roston.”
Riley eyed the woman she’d spoken to on the phone right after solving the Matchbook Killer case. Jennifer Roston wasn’t tall, but she looked athletic and completely competent. The expression on her face was that of a woman who was secure in her own abilities.
Roston shook hands with each of them.
“I’ve heard great things about you,” Lucy told her.
“You’ve reset some records at the Academy,” Bill said.
Riley had also heard great things about Agent Roston. She already had an amazing reputation and had received some excellent commendations.
“I’m so honored to meet all of you,” Roston said with a sincere smile. Then, looking Riley straight in the eye, she added, “Especially you, Agent Paige. It’s great to meet you face to face.”
Riley felt flattered. She also felt a slight, nagging concern.
As they all made their way to chairs and sat down, Riley wondered what Roston was doing here today. Was Meredith going to put her on an assignment with Riley and her two colleagues?
The thought made Riley a little uneasy. She, Bill, and Lucy had built an excellent rapport, a seamless working relationship. Wouldn’t a new addition to their little team disrupt that, at least temporarily?
Meredith answered her question. “I wanted the three of you to meet Agent Roston because I’ve got her working on the Shane Hatcher case. The bastard has been at large for way too long. Headquarters has decided to make him a priority. It’s time to bring him in, and we need fresh eyes assigned to that specific case.”
Riley squirmed a little on the inside.
She already knew that Roston was working on the Hatcher case. In fact, that was what they had discussed over the phone. Roston had asked for access to Quantico’s computer files about Shane Hatcher, and Riley had given her that access.
But what was going on right now?
Surely Meredith hadn’t brought them all together to work on the Hatcher case. She wasn’t sure how much Meredith actually knew about her own connections with Hatcher. She would have been arrested if her boss was fully aware that she had let the escaped killer go because he’d helped her out.
She knew perfectly well Hatcher was probably up in the mountains hiding in the cabin she had inherited from her father – staying there with Riley’s full knowledge and approval.
How could she possibly even pretend to be trying to bring him to justice?
Bill asked Roston, “How is it going so far?”
Roston smiled.
“Oh, I’m just getting started – I’m only doing research at this point.”
Then looking at Riley again, Roston said, “I appreciate the access you gave me to all those files.”
“I’m glad to help out,” Riley said.
Roston squinted a little at Riley, her expression turning vaguely curious.
“Oh, it’s been a great help,” she said. “You’ve put a lot of information together. Even so – I thought there’d be more about Hatcher’s financial dealings.”
Riley suppressed a shudder as she remembered doing something rash right after that phone call.
Before giving Roston access to the Hatcher files, she’d deleted one called “THOUGHTS” – a file that not only contained Riley’s personal thoughts and observations about Hatcher, but also financial information that would likely lead to his capture. Or at least make it possible to cut off his resources.
What a crazy thing to do, Riley thought.
But it was done, and it couldn’t be undone even if she wanted to change that.
Riley now felt distinctly uneasy under Roston’s inquisitive gaze.
“He’s an elusive character,” Riley said to Roston.
“Yes, so I take it,” Roston said.
Roston’s eyes stayed locked on Riley’s.
Riley’s discomfort grew.
Does she already know something? Riley wondered.
Then Meredith said, “That will be all for now, Agent Roston. I’ve got another matter to discuss with Paige, Jeffreys, and Vargas.”
Roston got up and politely took her leave.
As soon as she was gone, Meredith said, “It looks like we’ve got a new serial case in Southern California. Someone has murdered three drill sergeants at Fort Nash Mowat. They were shot at long range by a skilled marksman. The most recent victim was killed early this morning.”
Riley was intrigued, but also a little surprised.
“Isn’t this more of a case for the Army Criminal Investigation Command?” she asked, noting the other name for the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division. She knew the CID typically investigated felony crimes that were committed within the US Army.
Meredith nodded.
“The CID is already working on it,” he said. “There’s a CID office in Fort Mowat, so they’re up and running. But as you know, Provost Marshal General Boyle is in charge of the CID. He called me a little while ago to ask the FBI to pitch in. This is looking to be an especially nasty case, with all kinds of negative PR repercussions. There’s going to be a lot of bad press and political pressure. The sooner it gets solved, the better for everybody.”
Riley wondered if this was a good idea. She’d never heard of the FBI and CID working together on a case. She worried that they might wind up stepping on each other’s toes, doing more harm than good.
But she didn’t raise any objection. It wasn’t up to her.
“So when do we head out?” Bill asked.
“ASAP,” Meredith said. “Do you have your go-bags here?”
“No,” Riley said. “I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting this so soon.”
“Then as soon as you can pack your things.”
Riley felt a sudden burst of alarm.
Jilly’s play is tonight! she thought.
If Riley left right now, she’d miss it.
“Chief Meredith – ” she began.
“Yes, Agent Paige?”
Riley stopped short. After all, the FBI had just given her an award and a raise. How could she back out of this now?
Orders are orders, she told herself firmly.
There was nothing she could do.
“Nothing,” she said.
“OK, then,” Meredith said, rising to his feet. “The three of you get moving. And solve this thing fast. Other cases are waiting.”
Colonel Dutch Adams stood staring out his office window. He had a good view of Fort Nash Mowat from here. He could even see the field where Sergeant Worthing had been killed only this morning.
“Damn it to hell,” he muttered under his breath.
Less than two weeks ago Sergeant Rolsky had been killed in exactly the same way.
Then a week ago it was Sergeant Fraser.
And now it was Worthing.
Three good drill sergeants.
Such a stupid waste, he thought.
And so far, the agents from the Criminal Investigation Command hadn’t been able to crack the case.
Adams stood wondering …
How the hell did I wind up in charge of this place?
He’d had a good career overall. He wore his medals proudly – the Legion of Merit, three Bronze Stars, Meritorious Service Medals, a Meritorious Unit Commendation, and a hefty batch of others.
He looked back over his life as he stared out the window.
What were his best memories?
Surely his wartime service in Iraq, both in Operation Desert Storm and Operation Enduring Freedom.
What were his worst memories?
Possibly the academic grind of piling up enough degrees to get a commission.
Or maybe standing in front of classrooms giving lectures.
But even those weren’t as bad as running this place.
Driving a desk and filing reports and presiding over meetings – all that was the worst of it as far as he was concerned.
Still, at least he’d had the good times.
His career had come at a personal cost, though – three divorces and seven grown children who scarcely spoke to him anymore. He wasn’t even sure how many grandchildren he might have.
That was just how it had to be.
The Army had always been his true family.
But now, after all those years, he was feeling estranged even from the Army.
So how was his parting from military service going to feel in the end – like a happy retirement, or just another ugly divorce?
He breathed a bitter sigh.
If he achieved his final ambition, he’d retire as a brigadier general. Even so, he’d be all alone after he retired. But maybe it was just as well.
Maybe he could just quietly disappear – “fade away” like one of Douglas MacArthur’s proverbial “old soldiers.”
Or like some wild animal, he thought.
He’d been a hunter all his life, but couldn’t remember ever having run across the carcass of a bear or a deer or any other wild animal that had died of natural causes. Other hunters had told him the same thing.
What a mystery that had always been! Where did those wild creatures go to die and rot away?
He wished he knew, so he could go where they did when his time came.
Meanwhile, he had a hankering for a cigarette. It was a hell of a thing, not being able to smoke in his own office.
Just then his desk phone buzzed. It was his secretary in the outer office.
The woman said, “Colonel, I’ve got the provost marshal general on the line. He wants to talk to you.”
Colonel Adams felt a jolt of surprise.
He knew that the provost marshal general was Brigadier General Malcolm Boyle. Adams had never talked to him as far as he could remember.
“What’s it about?” Adams asked.
“The murders, I believe,” the secretary said.
Adams growled under his breath.
Of course, he thought.
The provost marshal general in Washington was in charge of all Army criminal investigations. Doubtless he’d gotten word that the investigation here was lagging.
“OK, I’ll talk to him,” Adams said.
He took the call.
Adams immediately disliked the sound of the man’s voice. It was too soft for his taste, didn’t have the proper bark for a high-ranking officer. Nevertheless, the man vastly outranked Adams. He had to at least feign respect.
Boyle said, “Colonel Adams, I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Three FBI agents from Quantico will be arriving there soon to help with the murder investigation.”
Adams felt a surge of irritation. As far as he was concerned, he already had too many agents working on it. But he managed to keep his voice calm.
“Sir, I’m not sure I understand why. We’ve got our own Criminal Investigation Command office right here at Fort Mowat. They’re on the case.”
Boyle’s voice sounded a little tougher now.
“Adams, you’ve had three murders in less than three weeks. It sure sounds to me like you folks could use a little help.”
Adams’s frustration was growing by the second. But he knew he mustn’t show it.
He said, “Respectfully, sir, I don’t know why you’re calling me with this news. Colonel Dana Larson is the CID commander here at Fort Mowat. Why aren’t you calling her first?”
Boyle’s reply took Adams completely aback.
“Colonel Larson contacted me. She asked for me to call in the BAU to help. So I put in a call and arranged it.”
Adams was aghast.
That bitch, he thought.
Colonel Dana Larson seemed to do everything she could to annoy him at every opportunity.
And what was a woman doing in charge of a CID office anyway?
Adams did his best to swallow down his disgust.
“I understand, sir,” he said.
Then he ended the call.
Colonel Adams was seething now. He banged his fist against his desk. Didn’t he have any say in what went on in this place?
Still, orders were orders, and he had to comply.
But he didn’t have to like it – and he didn’t have to make anybody comfortable.
He growled aloud.
Never mind people getting killed.
Things were going to get very ugly.
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