Once Lured

Then time resumed its normal pace. She knew the combination of blows had come in less than two seconds.

“Good,” Rudy said.

Riley smiled. Rudy was dodging and weaving now, more than ready for her attack. Riley did the same, bobbing, faking, trying to keep him guessing.

“No need to hurry,” Rudy said. “Think it through. Think of it like a game of chess.”

She felt a twinge of annoyance as she kept her lateral motion going. He was going easy on her. Why did he have to go easy on her?

But she knew that it was just as well. This was her first time in the sparring ring with an actual opponent. Until now, she’d been testing her combinations on a heavy bag. She had to remember that she was just a beginner at this form of fighting. It really was best not to hurry.

It had been Mike Nevins’s idea for her to take up sparring. The forensic psychiatrist who consulted with the FBI was also Riley’s good friend. He had gotten her through a lot of personal crises.

She’d recently complained to Mike that she was having trouble controlling her aggressive impulses. She was losing her temper frequently. She felt on edge.

“Try sparring,” Mike had said. “It’s a great way to let off steam.”

Right now she felt pretty sure that Mike was right. It felt good to be thinking on her feet, dealing with real threats instead of imagined ones, and it was relaxing to be dealing with threats that weren’t actually deadly.

It was also good that she’d joined a gym that got her away from Quantico headquarters. She spent too much time there. This was a welcome change.

But she had dawdled too long. And she could see in Rudy’s eyes that he was preparing for another attack.

She mentally chose her next combination. She popped abruptly toward him for her attack. Her first punch was a left jab, which he dodged and countered with a right cross that grazed her sparring helmet. She followed in less than a second with a right jab, which he took to his glove. In a flash she launched a left hook, which he dodged by lurching to the side.

“Good,” Rudy said again.

It didn’t feel good to Riley. She hadn’t landed a single punch, while he had clipped her a little even while defending himself, and she was starting to feel irritation building up. But she reminded herself of what Rudy had told her at the very start …

“Don’t expect to land a lot of punches. Nobody really does. Not with sparring, anyway.”

She was watching his gloves now, sensing that he was about to launch another attack. But just then, a strange transformation took place in her imagination.

The gloves turned into a single flame – the white hissing flame of a propane torch. She was caged in darkness again, the prisoner of a sadistic killer named Peterson. He was toying with her, making her dodge the flame to escape its searing heat.

But she was tired of being humiliated. This time she was determined to strike back. When the flame leaped toward her face, she simultaneously ducked and launched a fierce jab that didn’t connect. The flame hooked around to her, and she countered with a cross that also didn’t connect. But before Peterson could make another move, she threw an uppercut, and she felt it smash into his chin …

“Hey!” Rudy shouted.

His voice brought Riley back to her present reality. Rudy was stretched out on his back on the mat.

How did he get down there? Riley wondered.

Then she realized that she’d hit him – and hit him hard.

“Oh my God!” she shouted. “Rudy, I’m sorry!”

Rudy was grinning and getting back on his feet.

“Don’t be,” he said. “That was good.”

They resumed sparring. The rest of the session was uneventful, and neither of them landed any punches. But now the whole thing felt good to Riley. Mike Nevins was right. This was just the therapy she needed.

All the same, she kept wondering when she’d ever be able to shake off those memories.

Maybe never, she thought.

*

Riley cut enthusiastically into her steak. The chef at Blaine’s Grill did a great job with several less conventional dishes, but today’s workout at the gym had left her hungry for a good steak and a salad. Her daughter, April, and her friend Crystal had ordered burgers. Blaine Hildreth, Crystal’s father, was in the kitchen, but he would be back any moment now to finish up his mahi-mahi.

Riley gazed around the comfortable dining room with a deep feeling of satisfaction. She realized that her life didn’t include enough warm evenings like this with friends, family, and a nice meal. The scenes her job presented were more often ugly and unsettling.

In a few days she would testify at a parole hearing for a child-killer who hoped to get out of jail early. And she needed to make sure that he didn’t get away with that.

Several weeks ago she’d closed a disturbing case in Phoenix. She and her partner, Bill Jeffreys, had caught a killer who murdered prostitutes. Riley was still having trouble feeling that she’d done much good in solving that case. Now she knew too much for her own comfort about a whole world of exploited women and girls.

But she was determined to keep such thoughts out of her mind right now. She felt herself relaxing little by little. Eating out at a restaurant with a friend and both of their kids reminded her what it could be like to live a normal life. She was living in a nice home and growing closer to a nice neighbor.

Blaine returned and sat down. Riley couldn’t help observing yet again that he was attractive. His receding hairline gave him a pleasantly mature look, and he was lean and fit.

“Sorry,” Blaine said. “This place runs fine without me when I’m not here, but if I’m in view everybody decides they need my help.”

“I know what that’s like,” Riley said. “I’m hoping that if I keep out of sight, BAU will forget me for a while.”

April said, “No chance of that. They’ll call soon. You’ll be headed off to some other part of the country.”

Riley sighed. “I could get used to not being on constant call.”

Blaine finished a bite of his mahi-mahi.

“Have you thought about changing careers?” he asked.

Riley shrugged. “What else would I do? I’ve been an agent most of my adult life.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are lots of things a woman of your talents could do,” Blaine said. “Most of them safer than being an FBI agent.”

He thought for a moment. “I could picture you being a teacher,” he added.

Riley chuckled. “Do you think that’s safer?” she asked.

“Depends on where you do it,” Blaine said. “What about college?”

“Hey, that’s an idea, Mom,” April said. “You wouldn’t have to travel all the time. And you’d still get to help people.”

Riley said nothing as she mulled it over. Teaching at a college would surely be something like the teaching she’d done at the academy in Quantico. She’d enjoyed doing that. It always gave her a chance to recharge. But would she want to be a full-time teacher? Could she really spend all her days inside a building with no real activity?

She poked at a mushroom with her fork.