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.
He slit his own throat right before Riley's eyes.
And now, sitting here in Mike Nevins's office, Riley almost choked on her own horror.
"I killed Eugene," she said with a gasp.
"The chain killer, you mean. Well, he wasn't the first man you killed."
It was true-she'd used deadly force a number of times. But with Eugene, it had been very different. She'd thought about his death quite often, but she'd never talked to anybody about it before now.
"I didn't use a gun, or a rock, or my fists," she said. "I killed him with understanding, with empathy. My own mind is a deadly weapon. I'd never known that before. It terrifies me, Mike."
Mike nodded sympathetically. "You know what Nietzsche said about looking too long into an abyss," he said.
"The abyss also looks into you," Riley said, finishing the familiar saying. "But I've done a lot more than look into an abyss. I've practically lived there. I've almost gotten comfortable there. It's like a second home. It scares me to death, Mike. One of these days I might go into that abyss and never come back out. And who knows who I might hurt-or kill."
"Well, then," Mike said, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe we're getting somewhere."
Riley wasn't so sure. And she didn't feel any closer to making a decision.
*
When Riley walked through her front door a while later, April came galloping down the stairs to meet her.
"Oh, Mom, you've got to help me! Come on!"
Riley followed April up the stairs to her bedroom. An open suitcase was open on her bed and clothes were scattered all around it.
"I don't know what to pack!" April said. "I've never had to do this before!"
Smiling at her daughter's mixed panic and exhilaration, Riley set right to work helping her get her things together. April was leaving tomorrow morning on a school field trip-a week in nearby Washington, DC. She'd be going with a group of advanced American History students and their teachers.
When Riley had signed the forms and paid the extra fees for the trip, she'd had some qualms about it. Peterson had held April captive in Washington, and although that had been far off on the edge of the city, Riley worried that the trip might dredge up the trauma. But April seemed to be doing extremely well both academically and emotionally. And the trip was a wonderful opportunity.
As she and April teased each other lightheartedly about what to pack, Riley realized that she was having fun. That abyss that she and Mike had talked about a little while ago seemed far away. She still had a life outside of that abyss. It was a good life, and whatever she decided to do, she was determined to keep it.
While they were sorting things, Gabriela stepped into the room.
"Se?ora Riley, my cab will be here pronto, any minute," she said, smiling. "I'm packed and ready. My things are at the door."
Riley had almost forgotten that Gabriela was leaving. Since April was going to be away, Gabriela had asked for time off to visit relatives in Tennessee. Riley had cheerfully agreed.
Riley hugged Gabriela and said, "Buen viaje."
Gabriela's smile fading a little, she added, "Me preocupo."
"You're worried?" Riley asked in surprise. "What are you worried about, Gabriela?"
"You," Gabriela said. "You will be all alone in this new house."
Riley laughed a little. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself."
"But you have not been sola since so many bad things have happened," Gabriela said. "I worry."
Gabriela's words gave Riley a slight turn. What she was saying was true. Ever since the ordeal with Peterson, at least April had always been around. Could a dark and frightening void open up in her new home? Was the abyss yawning even now?
"I'll be fine," Riley said. "Go have a good time with your family."
Gabriela grinned and handed Riley an envelope. "This was in the mailbox," she said.
Gabriela hugged April, then hugged Riley again, and went downstairs to wait for her cab.
"What is it, Mom?" April asked.
"I don't know," Riley said. "It wasn't mailed."
She tore the envelope open and found a plastic card inside. Decorative letters on the card proclaimed "Blaine's Grill." Below that she read aloud, "Dinner for two."
"I guess it's a gift card from our neighbor," Riley said. "That's nice of him. You and I can go there for dinner when we get back."
"Mom!" April snorted. "He doesn't mean you and me."
"Why not?"
"He's inviting you out to dinner."
"Oh! Do you really think so? It doesn't say that here."
April shook her head. "Don't be stupid. The man wants to date you. Crystal told me her dad likes you. And he's really cute."
Riley could feel her face flushing red. She couldn't remember the last time someone had asked her on a date. She had been married to Ryan for so many years. Since their divorce she had been focused on getting settled in her new home and decisions to be made about her job.
"You're blushing, Mom," April said.
"Let's get your stuff packed," Riley grumbled. "I'll have to think about all this later."
They both went back to sorting through clothes. After a few minutes of silence, April said, "I'm kind of worried about you, Mom. Like Gabriela said …"
"I'll be fine," Riley said.
"Will you?"
Folding a blouse, Riley wasn't sure what to answer. Surely she'd recently faced worse nightmares than an empty house-murderous psychopaths obsessed with chains, dolls, and blowtorches among them. But might a host of inner demons break loose when she was alone? Suddenly, a week began to feel like a long time. And the prospect of deciding whether or not to date the man who lived next door seemed scary in its own way.
I'll handle it, Riley thought.
Besides, she still had another option. And it was about time to make a decision once and for all.
"I've been asked to work on a case," Riley told April. "I'd have to go to Arizona right away."
April stopped folding her clothes and looked at Riley.
"So you're going to go, aren't you?" she asked.
"I don't know, April," Riley said.
"What's there to know? It's your job, right?"
Riley looked into her daughter's eyes. The hard times between them really did seem to be over. Ever since they'd both survived the horrors inflicted by Peterson, they'd been linked by a new bond.
"I've been thinking about not going back to field work," Riley said.
April's eyes widened with surprise.
"What? Mom, taking down bad guys is what you do best."
"I'm good at teaching, too," Riley said. "I'm very good at it. And I love it. I really do."
April shrugged with incomprehension. "Well, go ahead and teach. Nobody's stopping you. But don't stop kicking ass. That's just as important."
Riley shook her head. "I don't know, April. After all I put you through-"
April looked and sounded incredulous. "After all you put me through? What are you talking about? You didn't put me through anything. I got caught by a psychopath named Peterson. If he hadn't taken me, he'd have taken someone else. Don't you start blaming yourself."
After a pause, April said, "Sit down, Mom. We've got to talk."
Riley smiled and sat down on the bed. April was sounding just like a mother herself.
Maybe a little parental lecture is just what I need, Riley thought.
April sat down next to Riley.
"Did I ever tell you about my friend Angie Fletcher?" April said.
"I don't think so."
"Well, we used to be tight for a while but she changed schools. She was really smart, just one year ahead of me, fifteen years old. I heard that she started buying drugs from this guy everybody called Trip. She got really, really into heroin. And when she ran out of money, Trip put her to work as a hooker. Trained her personally, made her move in with him. Her mom's so screwed up, she barely noticed Angie was gone. Trip even advertised her on his website, made her get a tattoo swearing she was his forever."
Riley was shocked. "What happened to her?"
"Well, Trip eventually got busted, and Angie wound up in a drug rehab center. That was just this summer while we were in Upstate New York. I don't know what happened to her after that. All I know is that she's just sixteen now and her life is ruined."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Riley said.
April groaned with impatience.
"You really don't get it, do you, Mom? You've got nothing to be sorry for. You've spent your whole life stopping this kind of thing. And you've put away all kinds of guys like Trip-some of them forever. But if you stop doing what you do best, who's going to take over for you? Somebody as good at it as you? I doubt it, Mom. I really doubt it."
Riley fell silent for a moment. Then with a smile, she squeezed April's hand tightly.
"I think I've got a phone call to make," she said.
