Once Hunted. Blake Pierce
ruse to lure them into the open.
As they approached the dead man, Newton hung back, rifle ready.
Freezing pools of blood stuck to the soles of Riley’s shoes as she approached the body. The face was beaten beyond all possibility of recognition, and DNA or dental records would have to be used to identify it. But Riley had no doubt that Newton was right; it must be Smokey Moran. Grotesquely, his eyes were still wide open, and the head was taped to the post so that he seemed to be staring directly at Riley.
Riley looked around again.
“Hatcher’s not here,” she said, holstering her weapon.
Bill did the same and walked up to the body beside Riley. Newton remained watchful, holding his rifle ready and turning to keep check on all directions.
“What’s this?” Bill said, pointing to a folded piece of paper poking out of the victim’s jacket pocket.
Riley took out the piece of paper. Upon it was written:
“A horse is on a 24 foot chain and eats an apple that is 26 feet away. How did the horse get to the apple?”
Riley tensed. It came as no surprise at all that Shane Hatcher had left behind a riddle. She handed the paper to Bill. Bill read it, then looked at Riley with a puzzled expression.
“The chain isn’t attached to anything,” Riley said.
Bill nodded. Riley knew that he understood the riddle’s meaning:
Shane the Chain was now unbound.
And he was just starting to enjoy his freedom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sitting with Bill in the hotel bar that night, Riley couldn’t get the image of the mangled man out of her head. Neither she nor Bill had been able to make sense of what had happened. She couldn’t believe that Shane Hatcher had broken out of Sing Sing just to kill Smokey Moran. But there was no doubt that he had killed the man.
The bar’s holiday lights seemed garish rather than a sign of celebration.
She held her empty glass out to a passing bartender. “I’ll have another,” she told her, handing over the glass.
Riley saw that Bill was looking at her uneasily. She understood why. This was Riley’s second bourbon on the rocks. Bill knew that Riley’s history with booze wasn’t altogether pretty.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I’ll make this my last for tonight.”
She had no desire to get drunk tonight. All she wanted was to relax a little. The first glass hadn’t helped, and she doubted that the second would either.
Riley and Bill had spent the rest of that day dealing with the aftermath of Smokey Moran’s murder. While she and Bill had worked with local cops and the medical examiner’s team at the crime scene, they’d sent Agents McGill and Newton back to the apartment building where Moran had lived. They were supposed to talk to the young gangbangers who had been standing guard in the foyer. But those young men were nowhere to be found. Moran’s apartment remained unlocked and unprotected.
As the bartender set the fresh drink down in front of Riley, Riley remembered what the gangbangers had said in the foyer:
“Smokey said he thought you’d come.”
“He told us to give you a message.”
Then they’d told them where to find Smokey Moran.
Riley shook her head as she mentally replayed the moment.
“We should have talked to those punks when we had a chance,” she told Bill. “We should have asked questions.”
Bill shrugged.
“About what?” he asked. “What could they have told us?”
Riley didn’t reply. The truth was, she didn’t know. But the whole thing seemed strange. She remembered the gangbangers’ expressions – stern, somber, even sad. It was almost as if they understood that their leader had gone to his death, and they were mourning already. The fact that they had now left their posts, apparently for good, seemed to confirm that.
So what had Moran told them before he’d left? That he wouldn’t be coming back? Riley was puzzled by that possibility. Why wouldn’t a smart, hardened career thug like Moran have steered clear of danger? Why did he go to that warehouse at all, if he had any idea of what awaited him there?
Interrupting Riley’s thoughts, Bill asked, “What do you think will be Hatcher’s next move?”
“I don’t know,” Riley said.
It was hard to admit, but it was true. Seasoned FBI agents were now guarding Kelsey Sprigge’s house in case she was Hatcher’s next target. But Riley didn’t think she would be. Kelsey was right. Hatcher wouldn’t kill the woman for just having done her job all those years ago, especially since she’d actually saved his life.
“Do you think he might come for you next?” Bill said.
“I wish he would,” Riley said.
Bill looked a little shocked.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“I do mean that,” Riley said. “If he’d only show himself, maybe I could do something. This is like playing a chess game blindfolded. How can I make my own move if I don’t know his moves?”
Bill and Riley sipped on their drinks in silence for a few moments.
“You met him too, Bill,” Riley said. “What’s your take on him?”
Bill let out a long sigh.
“Well, he certainly seemed to figure me out in a hurry,” he said. “He told me to forget about fixing things up with Maggie. I had no idea how right he was.”
“How are things with Maggie these days?” Riley asked.
Bill rattled the ice around in his glass.
“Nowhere,” he said. “I’m feeling stranded. Six months of separation, no chance of getting back together, but six months to go before the divorce becomes final. It feels like my life is standing still. At least she’s easing up on custody of the boys. She’s letting them spend time with me.”
“That’s good,” Riley said.
She noticed that Bill was now gazing at her wistfully.
That’s not good, she thought.
She and Bill had spent years struggling with their mutual attraction, sometimes very clumsily. Riley still winced as she remembered once drunkenly calling him and proposing that they have an affair. Their friendship and professional relationship had barely survived that miserable episode.
She didn’t want to start down that road again, especially now that things were so confusing with both Ryan and Blaine. She gulped down the rest of her drink.
“It’s time for me to turn in,” she said.
“Yeah, me too,” Bill said with a note of reluctance in his voice.
They paid the bill and left the bar. Bill headed straight toward his hotel room. In all the day’s hectic confusion, Riley hadn’t yet brought in her own travel bag and personal items from the car. She walked down a stairwell and through a door that led directly into the hotel’s basement parking garage.
A cold blast of air hit her hard when she stepped into the concrete space. No one was in sight.
She headed straight toward the borrowed FBI SUV on the opposite side of the garage. The moment she got there and reached for the door handle, her peripheral vision caught a flash of movement somewhere to her left.
She turned her head to look. She saw nothing except parked cars, although she thought her ears detected an echo of movement. She was sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. Someone else was in the garage.
“Hello,” she called out.
Her