“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.
“Excuse me,” she told the enormous man.
Still looking quite terrified, the man scrambled sideways like a giant crab, getting out of Riley’s way. She got into the car and drove through the gate. She tossed the pistol on the ground as she drove away.
They don’t think I’m a reporter anymore, she thought.
She was also sure that they would let the congresswoman know that pretty quickly.
*
A couple of hours later, Riley pulled her car into the parking lot at the BAU building. She sat there for a few moments. She hadn’t been here once during her month on leave. She hadn’t expected to be back so soon. It felt really strange.
She turned off the engine, removed the keys, got out of the car, and went into the building. As she made her way toward her office, friends and colleagues spoke to her with varying degrees of welcome, surprise, or restraint.
She stopped at the office of her usual partner, Bill Jeffreys, but he wasn’t there. He was probably out on an assignment, working with someone else.
She felt a slight pang of sadness—even jealousy.
In many ways, Bill was her best friend in the world.
Still, she figured maybe this was just as well. Bill didn’t know that she and Ryan were together again, and he wouldn’t approve. He had held her hand too many times during her painful breakup and divorce. He’d find it hard to believe that Ryan was a changed man.
When she opened the door to her own office, she had to double check to make sure she was in the right place. It all looked far too neat and well organized. Had they given her office to another agent? Had someone else been working here?
Riley opened a drawer and found familiar files, though now in better order.
Who would have straightened everything up for her?
Certainly not Bill. He would have known better.
Lucy Vargas, maybe, she thought.
Lucy was a young agent that both she and Bill had worked with and liked. If Lucy was the culprit behind all this neatness, at least she’d done it in a spirit of helpfulness.
Riley sat at her desk for a few minutes.
Images and memories came to her—the girl’s coffin, her devastated parents, and Riley’s terrible dream of the hanged girl surrounded by mementos. She also remembered how Dean Autrey had evaded her questions, and how Hazel Webber had outright lied.
She reminded herself of what she’d said to Hazel Webber. She’d promised to get an official investigation underway. And it was time to make good on that promise.
She picked up her office phone and buzzed her boss, Brent Meredith.
When the team chief picked up, she said, “Sir, this is Riley Paige. I wonder if I could—”
She was about to ask for a few minutes of his time when his voice thundered.
“Agent Paige, get in my office right now.”
Riley shuddered.
Meredith was plenty mad at her about something.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Riley hurried into Brent Meredith’s office, she found him standing by his desk waiting for her.
“Close the door,” he said. “Sit down.”
Riley did as she was told.
Still standing, Meredith didn’t speak for a few moments. He just glared at Riley. He was a big man—broad-built with black, angular features. And he was intimidating even when he was in the best of moods.
He wasn’t in a good mood right now.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Agent Paige?” he asked.
Riley gulped. She guessed that some of her activities that day had already gotten back to him.
“Perhaps you’d better start first, sir,” she said meekly.
He moved closer to her.
“I’ve just gotten two complaints from on high about you,” he said.
Riley’s heart sank. By “on high,” she knew who Meredith meant. The complaints had come from Special Agent in Charge Carl Walder himself—a contemptible little man who had already suspended Riley more than once for insubordination.
Meredith growled, “Walder tells me he got a call from the dean of a small college.”
“Yes, Byars College. But if you’ll give me a moment to explain—”
Meredith interrupted her again.
“The dean said you walked into his office and made some preposterous allegations.”
“That’s not exactly what happened, sir,” Riley pleaded.
But Meredith steamrolled right along.
“Walder also got a call from Representative Hazel Webber. She said that you made your way into her home and harassed her. You even lied to her about some nonexistent case. And then you assaulted two members of her staff. You threatened them at gunpoint.”
Riley bristled at the accusation.
“That’s really not what happened, sir.”
“Then what did happen?”
“It was the guard’s own gun,” she blurted.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Riley realized …
That didn’t come out right at all.
“I was trying to give it back!” she said.
But she instantly knew …
That didn’t help.
A long silence fell.
Meredith drew a deep breath. Finally, he said, “You’d better have a good explanation for your actions, Agent Paige.”
Riley took a deep breath.
“Sir, there have been three suspicious deaths at Byars College, just during this school year. They were allegedly suicides. I don’t believe that’s what they were.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Meredith said.
“I understand, sir. And I came here just to tell you about it.”
Meredith stood, waiting for further explanation.