“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Riley said sternly. “I make therules here.”
Riley glimpsed Gabriela nodding at her with sage approval. Thestout, no-nonsense housekeeper had taught her to say “I make the rules” oncewhen Riley had gotten too wishy-washy with the kids. Gabriela often seemed tobe as much a parent to April and Jilly as Riley herself could ever be, andRiley was deeply grateful to have her around.
“All right,” Riley told Jilly, “you can have the money for your zombiecostume. But we’ll still have to work out the details before you go anywhere.”
Jilly seemed to be perfectly happy now, and April seemed to beperfectly miserable. But at least the matter was settled. As they finishedtheir breakfasts in silence, Riley found herself thinking that Thanksgiving wascoming up fairly soon and her strong-minded older daughter would no longer begrounded.
What April had done was deadly serious. When Riley had bought apistol for April to train with during the summer, she’d felt confident that herolder daughter would handle the weapon responsibly.
But it had turned out that Riley’s confidence was misplaced. Notonly had April failed to make sure the gun wasn’t loaded after bringing it homefrom the firing range, she’d dropped the weapon while trying to put it away inRiley’s bedroom. Riley could still hear the accidental gunshot echoing throughthe house. And she’d only recently repaired the holes the bullet had made intwo walls.
We were lucky nobody got hurt—or killed, Riley thought.That grateful refrain had been running through her mind every day since then.
She wondered if she should have grounded April for longer—all theway through Christmas and New Year’s, maybe. But it was too late to change hermind now. She had to be consistent. Gabriela had helped her learn that lessontoo.
Riley watched through the window as the girls finally left thehouse and headed for their bus stop. She found herself thinking about how muchshe hated Halloween. She wasn’t sure exactly why.
Maybe she was troubled by the idea of kids going aroundpretending to be monsters. After years of working as a BAU agent, Riley hadlong since learned that the world was much too full of genuine monsters as itwas. It struck her as kind of perverse to go inventing make-believe monstersjust for fun.
Of course, kids also dressed up as more positive characters onHalloween—superheroes, for instance. But Riley didn’t like that either. As faras she was concerned, the world needed real heroes, not phony ones incapes and tights. More than that, there should be more people who could beheroic about the little things in life.
Like getting their kids off to school, Riley thought witha smile as April and Jilly rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.
The truth was, being a crime fighter never struck Riley as anespecially heroic activity. The everyday tasks of being a parent often seemedmuch more formidable than ridding the world of actual human monsters. Thosevillains could often be caught, their rampages put to an end. The job ofparenting went on and on, requiring an unflagging effort.
Not that I’m much of a hero at parenting.
But at least she’d managed to navigate her kids throughbreakfast, out of the house, and on their way to school this morning. With noimmediate assignment at BAU, she’d taken the day off.
And she had some special plans.
She smiled at the thought of it …
A rendezvous.
It seemed odd to think of it that way, particularly consideringwho she was going to meet for lunch. But an important relationship in her lifehad taken an unexpected turn recently. And now …
We’re dating, I guess.
She was glad to have the rest of the morning to get herselfready.
When she went to her bedroom, she picked up her cell phone fromthe nightstand and saw that she’d received a voicemail message.
When she played the message, she heard a familiar gruff, huskyvoice.
“Hey, Agent Paige. Van Roff here. Call me.”
She felt a sharp tingle of anticipation and worry. From the soundof the caller’s tone, he didn’t have good news.
The question was, did Riley want to hear what he had to say rightnow?
She sat down on her bed looking at the cell phone, trying todecide whether to call him back or not.
Van Roff was a technical analyst in the Seattle FBI field office.Riley had worked with the brilliant, overweight computer geek in the past,sometimes on less than legitimate tasks. She’d learned that Van was willing tobend and even break the rules on her behalf from time to time, especially ifthe problem at hand interested him.
Now was one of those times.
Riley sighed as she remembered how her then-partner Jenn Rostonhad disappeared during the last case they’d worked on together, leaving behinda cryptic note that hadn’t explained anything at all:
Riley,
I’m sorry.
Jenn
It had come as a terrible shock, and it had gotten Riley intotrouble with her boss, Brent Meredith, who rightly suspected that Riley knewmore about Jenn’s disappearance than she was willing to say.
Jenn had confided to Riley that she had been raised by a sinisterfoster parent who called herself “Aunt Cora,” and who trained children under hercare to become master criminals in her own criminal organization.
Jenn had escaped Aunt Cora’s clutches long enough to become abrilliant and promising young BAU agent. Riley had been the only person whomJenn had told about her sinister past. Riley also knew that Jenn still heardfrom Aunt Cora from time to time, and that the diabolical woman kept trying todraw Jenn back under her control.
After the case was solved, Riley had received a packagecontaining Jenn’s badge and gun and another cryptic note:
I tried.
Riley had known right then that Jenn had fallen back into AuntCora’s dark world. Riley had dutifully delivered Jenn’s badge and the weapon toBrent Meredith, who had already received a letter of resignation from her.
As far as Meredith was concerned, Jenn’s relationship with theBAU was over. He had no interest in finding out where she’d gone or why. Hedidn’t care if he ever heard her name again.
But Riley couldn’t help hoping maybe she could reach Jennsomehow—maybe even help her get away from Aunt Cora for good.
Certain that Van Roff would
