Once Taken (3 page)

As soon as she was alone, Riley went to her filing cabinet and pulled out the thick file on the Peterson case. She opened it up on her desk and browsed through it, refreshing her memory about her nemesis. She didn’t find much that was helpful.

The truth was that the man remained an enigma. There hadn’t even been any records of his existence until Bill and Riley finally tracked him down. Peterson might not even be his real name, and they’d turned up several different first names supposedly connected with him.

As Riley looked through the file, she came across photographs of his victims—women who had been found in shallow graves. They had all borne burn scars, and the cause of death had been manual strangulation. Riley shuddered with the memory of the large, powerful hands that had caught her and caged her like an animal.

Nobody knew just how many women he had killed. There might be many more corpses yet to be found. And until Marie and Riley had been captured and lived to tell about it, nobody knew about how he liked to torment women in the dark with a propane torch. And nobody else was willing to believe that Peterson was still alive.

The whole thing was really getting her down. Riley was known for her ability to get into the minds of killers—an ability that sometimes scared her. Even so, she’d never been able to get into Peterson’s mind. And as of right now, she felt that she understood him even less.

He had never struck Riley as an organized psychopath. The fact that he left his victims in shallow graves suggested quite the opposite. He was no perfectionist. Even so, he was meticulous enough not to leave clues behind. The man was truly paradoxical.

She remembered something that Marie had said to her shortly before her suicide …

“Maybe he’s like a ghost, Riley. Maybe that’s what happened when you blew him up. You killed his body but you didn’t kill his evil.”

He wasn’t a ghost, and Riley knew it. She was sure—more sure than ever—that he was out there, and that she was his next target. Even so, he might as well be a ghost as far as she was concerned. Aside from herself, nobody else even believed that he existed.

“Where are you, you bastard?” she whispered aloud.

She didn’t know, and she had no way to find out. She was completely stymied. She had no choice but to let the whole thing go for now. She closed the folder and put it back in its place in her filing cabinet.

Then her office phone rang. She saw that the call was coming through on a line shared by all the special agents. It was the line that the BAU phone bank used to forward appropriate call-ins to agents. As a rule of thumb, whichever agent picked up such a call first would take the case.

Riley glanced around at the other offices. Nobody else seemed to be in at the moment. The other agents were all either taking a break or out working other cases. Riley answered the phone.

“Special Agent Riley Paige. What can I do to help you?”

The voice on the line sounded harried.

“Agent Paige, this is Raymond Alford, Chief of Police in Reedsport, New York. We’ve got a real problem here. Would it be okay for us to do this by video chat? I think maybe I could explain it better. And I’ve got some images that you’d better see for yourself.”

Riley’s curiosity was piqued. “Certainly,” she said. She gave Alford her contact information. A few moments later she was talking to him face to face. He was a slender, balding man who appeared to be well along in years. At the moment, his expression was anxious and tired.

“We had a murder here last night,” Alford told her. “A real ugly one. Let me show you.”

A photograph came up on Riley’s computer screen. It showed what appeared to be a woman’s body hanging from a chain over railroad tracks. The body was wrapped in a multitude of chains, and it seemed to be oddly dressed.

“What’s the victim wearing?” Riley asked.

“A straitjacket,” Alford said.

Riley was startled. Looking closer at the photograph, she could see that it was true. Then the picture disappeared, and Riley found herself face to face with Alford again.

“Chief Alford, I appreciate your alarm. But what makes you think this is a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit?”

“Because this exact same thing happened very near here five years ago,” Alford said.

An image appeared of another woman’s corpse. She, too, was chained all over and bound in a straitjacket.

“Back then it was a part-time prison worker, Marla Blainey. The MO was identical—except that she was just dumped on the riverbank, not hung up.”

Alford’s face reappeared.

“This time it was Rosemary Pickens, a local nurse,” he said. “Nobody can imagine a motive, not for either of the women. They were both well-liked.”

Alford slumped wearily and shook his head.

“Agent Paige, my people and I are really out of our depth here. This new killing must be a serial or copycat. The trouble is, neither of those makes any sense. We don’t get that kind of problem in Reedsport. This is just a little Hudson River tourist town with a population of about seven thousand. Sometimes we have to break up a fight or fish a tourist out of the river. That’s about as bad as things usually get here.”

Riley thought about it. This actually did look like a case for the BAU. She really ought to refer Alford directly to Meredith.

But Riley glanced toward Meredith’s office and saw that he hadn’t returned yet. She’d have to alert him about this later. In the meantime, maybe she could help a little.

“What were the causes of death?” she asked.

“Throats slashed, both of them.”

Riley tried not to show her surprise. Strangulation and blunt force strike were far more common than slashing.

This seemed to be a highly unusual killer. Even so, it was the kind of psychopath that Riley knew well. She specialized in just such cases. It seemed a shame that she wasn’t going to be able to bring her skills to this one. In the wake of her recent trauma, she wouldn’t get the assignment.

“Have you taken the body down?” Riley asked.

“Not yet,” Alford said. “She’s still hanging there.”

“Then don’t. Leave it there for now. Wait till our agents get there.”

Alford didn’t look pleased.

“Agent Paige, that’s going to be a tall order. It’s right next to the train tracks and it can be seen from the river. And the town doesn’t need this kind of publicity. I’m under a lot of pressure to take it down.”

“Leave it,” Riley said. “I know it’s not easy, but it’s important. It won’t be long. We’ll get agents there this afternoon.”

Alford nodded in mute compliance.

“Have you got any more photos of the latest victim?” Riley asked. “Any close-ups?”

“Sure, I’ll bring them up.”

Riley found herself looking at a series of detail shots of the corpse. The local cops had done a good job. The photos showed how tightly and elaborately the chains were wrapped around the corpse.

Finally came a close-up of the victim’s face.

Riley felt as though her heart jumped up into her throat. The victim’s eyes bulged, and her mouth was gagged by a chain. But that wasn’t what shocked Riley.

The woman looked a lot like Marie. She was older and heavier, but even so, Marie might have looked a lot like this if she’d only lived another decade or so. The image hit Riley like an emotional blow to the gut. It was as if Marie was calling out for her, demanding that she get this killer.

She knew that she had to take this case.

Peterson coasted his car along, not too fast, not too slow, feeling good as he finally had the girl back in his sights. Finally, he had found her. There she was, Riley’s daughter, alone, walking toward her high school, with no clue at all that he was stalking her. That he was about to end her life.

As he watched, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and turned around, as if suspicious she were being watched. She stood there, as if undecided. A few other students passed her and filtered into the building.

He coasted the car along, waiting to see what she would do next.

Not that the girl mattered to him especially. Her mother was the true target of his revenge. Her mother had thwarted him badly, and she had to pay. She already had, in a way—after all, he’d driven Marie Sayles to suicide. But now he had to take from her the girl who mattered to her most.

The girl, to his delight, began to turn around and walk away from school. Apparently she had decided not to go to class today. His heart pounded—he wanted to pounce. But he could not. Not yet. He had to tell himself to be patient. Other people were still in sight.

Peterson drove ahead and circled a block, forcing himself to be patient. He suppressed a smile at the joy to come. With what he had in mind for her daughter, Riley would suffer in ways she didn’t think possible. Although she was still gangly and awkward, the girl looked a lot like her mother. That would make it extra satisfying.

As he circled around, he saw that the girl was walking briskly along the street. He pulled over to the curb and watched her for a few minutes, until he realized that she was taking a road that led out of town. If she was going to walk home alone, then this might be the perfect moment to take control of her.

His heart pounding, wanting to savor the delightful anticipation, Peterson circled another block with his car.

People needed to learn to put off certain pleasures, Peterson knew, to wait until just the right time. Delayed gratification made everything more pleasurable. He had learned that from years of delicious, lingering cruelty.

There’s just so much to look forward to,
he thought contentedly.

When he came back around and saw her again, Peterson laughed aloud. She was hitchhiking! God was smiling down upon him on this day. Taking her life was clearly meant to be.

He pulled the car up beside her and gave her his most pleasant smile.

“Give you a lift?”

The girl smiled back broadly. “Thanks. That would be great.”

 “Where are you headed?” he asked.

“I live just a little way out of town.”

The girl told him the address.

He said, “I’m going right past there. Hop in.”

The girl got into the front seat. With increasing satisfaction, he observed that she even had her mother’s hazel eyes.

Peterson pressed the buttons to lock the doors and windows. Over the quiet rumble of the air conditioner, the girl didn’t even notice.

*

April felt a pleasant rush of adrenaline as she fastened the safety harness. She’d never hitchhiked before. Her mother would have a fit if she found out.

Of course, it served Mom right, April figured. It was really rotten to make her stay at Dad’s last night—and all because of some crazy idea of hers that Peterson had been in their home. It wasn’t true, and April knew it. The two agents who had driven her to Dad’s house had said so. From what they’d said to each other, it sounded kind of like the whole agency thought Mom was a bit bonkers.

The man said, “So what brings you into Fredericksburg?”

April turned and looked at him. He was an agreeable-looking, big-jawed guy with shaggy hair and a stubble of beard. He was smiling.

“School,” April said.

“A summer class?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” April said. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that she’d decided to skip the class. Not that he looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t understand. He seemed pretty cool. Maybe he’d even get a kick out of helping her defy parental authority. Still, it was best not to take any chances.

The man’s smile turned a bit mischievous.

“So what does your mother think about hitchhiking?” he asked.

April flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, she’s fine with it,” she said.

The man chuckled. It wasn’t a very pleasant sound. And something occurred to April. He’d asked what her
mother
thought, not what her
parents
thought. What made him say it that way?

The traffic was fairly heavy this close to the school at this time of morning. It was going to take a while to get home. April hoped that the man wasn’t going to make a whole lot of conversation. That could get really awkward.

But after a couple of blocks of silence, April felt even more uncomfortable. The man had stopped smiling, and his expression seemed rather grim to her. She noticed that all the doors were locked. She surreptitiously fingered the button of the passenger-side window. It didn’t budge.

The car came to a stop behind a line of cars waiting for a light to change. The man clicked on the left turn signal. April was seized by a sudden burst of anxiety.

“Um … we have to go straight here,” she said.

The man said nothing. Had he simply not heard her? Somehow, she couldn’t get up the nerve to say it again. Besides, maybe he planned to go by a different route. But no, she couldn’t think of how he could drive her home from that direction.

April wondered what to do. Should she scream for help? Would anybody hear her? And what if the man hadn’t heard what she said? Didn’t mean any harm after all? The whole thing would be horribly embarrassing.

Then she saw someone familiar slouching along the sidewalk, his backpack slung over his shoulder. It was Brian, her sort-of-boyfriend these days. She rapped sharply on the window.

She gasped with relief when Brian looked around and saw her.

“Do you want a ride?” she mouthed to Brian.

Brian grinned and nodded.

“Oh, that’s my boyfriend,” April said. “Could we stop and pick him up, please? He’s on his way to my house anyway.”

It was a lie. April really had no idea where Brian was headed. The man scowled and grunted. He wasn’t at all happy with this. Was he going to stop? April’s heart beat wildly.

Brian was talking on his cell phone as he stood on the sidewalk and waited. But he was looking straight at the car and April was sure that he could see the driver pretty clearly. She was glad to have a potential witness just in case the man had something ugly in mind.

The man studied Brian, and he clearly saw him talking on his cell, and saw him looking back right at him.