the door.
Riley took some long, slow breaths.
She wished she hadn’t been interrupted.
She was sure she’d been about to crack through Hazel Webber’s deceptive facade.
But her opportunity wasn’t gone.
When Webber came back, Riley would start in on her again.
After less than a minute, Webber returned. She seemed to have recovered her self-assurance.
She stood by the open door and said, “Agent Paige—if you really are Agent Paige—I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
Riley gulped hard.
“I don’t understand.”
“My assistant just called the BAU. They have absolutely no investigation underway concerning suicides at Byars College. Now whoever you are—”
Riley pulled out her badge.
“I am Special Agent Riley Paige,” she said with determination. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that such an investigation gets underway as soon as possible.”
She walked past Hazel Webber out of the office.
On her way out of the house, she knew that she had made an enemy—and a dangerous one at that.
It was a different sort of danger from what she usually faced.
Hazel Webber wasn’t a psychopath whose weapons of choice were chains, knives, guns, or blowtorches.
She was a woman without a conscience, and her weapons were money and power.
Riley preferred the kind of adversary she could punch out or shoot. Even so, she was ready and willing to deal with Webber and whatever threats she could muster.
She lied to me about her daughter, Riley kept thinking.
And now Riley was determined to find out the truth.
The house seemed empty now. Riley was surprised to leave without encountering a single soul. She felt as if she could rob the place and not get caught.
She went outside and got into her car and drove away.
As she approached the manor gate, she saw that it was closed. Standing just inside were both the burly guard who had let her in and the enormous butler. Both had their arms crossed, and they were obviously waiting for her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The two men definitely looked threatening. They also looked a little bit ridiculous—the smaller of the two wearing his guard uniform, his much more massive partner wearing his ultra-formal butler’s outfit.
Like a pair of circus clowns, she thought.
But she knew they weren’t trying to be funny.
Riley pulled her car to a stop right in front of them. She rolled down her window, looked out, and called to them.
“Is there some sort of problem, gentlemen?”
The guard came closer, directly in front of her car.
The colossal butler lumbered toward her passenger window.
He spoke in a rumbling bass voice.
“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