Luring. Блейк Пирс
here, he’d almost passed out himself, and he’d suffered from a splitting headache for days afterward. But the preparation worked very well, so he would continue using it.
Now he was well prepared for what he was about to do next. He was wearing thick work gloves now and a thickly padded jacket. He wasn’t going to hurt himself any more while getting the thing done.
He went to work on the mass of barbed wire with a pair of wire cutters. Then he pulled a length of it tightly around the woman’s body and twisted the ends into makeshift knots to hold the wire in place.
The woman let out a sharp whimper and tried to twist loose from the duct tape as the barbs tore through her skin and clothing.
As he kept working, he said …
“You don’t have to be quiet. You can scream if you want—if it helps.”
He certainly wasn’t worried about anybody hearing her.
She whimpered louder, and she seemed to try to scream, but her voice was weak.
He chuckled quietly. He knew that she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs to properly scream—not with her legs bound up against her chest like that.
He pulled another length of barbed wire around her and stretched it tight, watching as blood dripped from where each barb pierced her flesh beneath her clothes, soaking through the fabric, spreading and making spots much wider than the wound itself.
He kept right on pulling strand after strand around her until she was all bound up like some kind of enormous wire cocoon, not looking human at all. The bundle was making all kinds strange low sounds—sighs, gasps, whimpers, and groans. Blood trickled here and spurted a little there until the whole tabletop was bathed in red.
Then he stepped back and admired his handiwork.
He turned off the overhead light and walked out into the night, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.
The sky was clear and starry, and he couldn’t hear anything now except the dense rumble of crickets.
He took a long, slow breath of the clean, fresh air.
The night seemed especially sweet just now.
CHAPTER THREE
As Riley lined up with the rest of the interns for their final formal photograph, she heard the door to the reception room open.
Her heart leapt, and she turned around expectantly to see who had arrived.
But it was only Hoke Gilmer, the program’s training supervisor, returning after having stepped out for a few minutes.
Riley suppressed a sigh. She already knew that Agent Crivaro wouldn’t be here today. Yesterday he’d congratulated her on completing the course and said he wanted to get back to Quantico. It was obvious that he simply had no taste for ceremonies or receptions.
Her secret hope was that Ryan might show up out of the blue to help her celebrate the completion of the summer program.
Of course she knew better than to seriously expect that to happen.
Even so, she couldn’t help but fantasize that somehow he’d change his mind and he’d arrive at the last minute and apologize for his cold behavior last night and finally say those words she longed for him to say …
“I want you to go to the academy. I want you to follow your dream.”
But of course, that wasn’t going to happen …
And the sooner I get that through my head, the better.
The 20 interns formed three rows for the photograph—one row seated at a long table, with two rows standing behind them. Since the interns were arranged in alphabetical order, Riley found herself in the back row between other two other students whose last names began with S—Naomi Strong and Rhys Seely.
She hadn’t gotten to know Naomi or Rhys very well.
But then, that was true for almost all the other interns. She’d felt out of place among them ever since the first day of the program 10 weeks ago. The only student she’d gotten close to during that whole time was John Welch, who was standing a few students to her left.
On that first day, John had explained why the others were giving her odd looks and whispering to each other about her …
“Pretty much everybody here knows who you are. I guess you could say that your reputation precedes you.”
She was, after all, the only intern who already had what everybody called “field experience” under her belt.
Riley fought down another sigh at the thought of those words …
“Field experience.”
She found it weird to think of what had happened back at Lanton University as “field experience.” A nightmare seemed more like it. She’d never be able to shake off those memories of finding her two close friends with their throats cut in their blood-drenched dorm rooms.
Back then, the last thing she’d had in mind was training with the FBI. She’d gotten caught up in the case through no choice of her own—and she’d helped solve it, which was why pretty much everybody here had known who she was from the very first day.
And then when the program got underway, and all the other students had started learning about computers and forensics and other less thrilling matters, Riley had tracked down the deadly Clown Killer. Both of those cases had been traumatic and life-threatening.
Getting a “head start” on “field experience” had hardly made her popular with the other interns. In fact, their unspoken resentment had been palpable all along.
And now at least some of them envied her for moving on to the Academy.
If only they knew what I’ve been through, she thought.
She doubted that they’d envy her then.
She felt horror and guilt at the memory of her two friends being murdered at Lanton, and she wished she could turn back time and stop it from happening. Not only would her friends still be alive, but her own life would be completely different right now. She’d have a psychology degree and some kind of run-of-the-mill job and a whole lot of uncertainty about what she was going to do with the rest of her life …
And Ryan would be perfectly happy with me.
But she doubted that she would be happy. She hadn’t felt passionate about pursuing any career until the possibility of being an FBI agent came up—even if she did feel like this career had chosen her, not the other way around.
When the three rows of interns were properly posed, Hoke Gilmer told a joke to make everybody laugh while the photographer snapped their picture. Riley didn’t feel in a humorous mood, so the joke didn’t strike her as funny. She was sure that her own smile looked forced and insincere.
She also felt insecure about her own pantsuit, which she’d bought months ago at a thrift shop. Most of the other interns were better off financially than she was, and markedly better dressed. She didn’t look forward to seeing the photo that was being taken.
Then the group broke up to enjoy the snacks and refreshments arranged on another table in the middle of the room. Everybody clustered into groups of friends, and as usual, Riley felt isolated.
She noticed that Natalie Embry was clinging to Rollin Sloan, an intern who was headed straight for a high-paying job as a data analyst in a big Midwestern field office.
Riley heard a voice at her side …
“Well, Natalie sure got what she came here for, didn’t she?”
Riley turned and saw John Welch standing beside her.
She smiled and said, “Come on, John. Aren’t you being a bit cynical?”
John shrugged and said, “Are you telling me I’m wrong?”
Riley looked again at Natalie, who was flashing her new engagement ring at someone.
“No, I guess not,”