Читать книгу Once Lost - Блейк Пирс - Страница 11

Bill’s apartment looked like it had been burglarized. Riley froze in the doorway for a moment, about to draw her gun in case an intruder was still here.

Then she relaxed. Those things strewn about everywhere were food wrappers and dirty plates and glasses. The place was a mess, but it was a personal mess.

She called out Bill’s name.

She heard no answer.

Then she called out again.

This time she thought she heard a groan from a nearby room.

Her heart pounded again as she hurried through the doorway into Bill’s bedroom. The room was dim and the blinds were closed. Bill was lying on the unmade bed, wearing rumpled clothes and staring up at the ceiling.

“Bill, why didn’t you answer when I called?” she asked somewhat irritably.

“I did,” he said in a near-whisper. “You didn’t hear me. Could you stop being so loud?”

Riley saw a nearly empty bourbon bottle sitting on the nightstand. Suddenly the whole scene became clear. She sat down on the bed beside him.

“I had kind of a rough night,” Bill said, trying to force a feeble chuckle. “You know what that’s like.”

“Yeah, I do,” Riley said.

After all, despair had driven her to her own binges and ensuing hangovers.

She touched his clammy forehead, imagining how sick he must feel.

“What set you off drinking?” she asked.

Bill groaned.

“It was my boys,” he said.

Then he fell silent. Riley hadn’t seen Bill’s two sons for a while. She guessed that they must be about nine and eleven years old by now.

“What about them?” Riley asked.

“They came over to visit yesterday. It didn’t go well. The place was a mess, and I was so irritable and edgy. They couldn’t wait to go home. Riley, it was awful. I was awful. One more visit like that, and Maggie won’t let me see them again. She’s looking for any excuse to cut them out of my life for good.”

Bill made a noise that sounded almost like a sob. But he didn’t seem to have the energy to cry. Riley suspected he’d done plenty of crying alone.

Bill said, “Riley, if I’m no good as a father, what good am I? I’m no good as an agent, not anymore. What’s left?”

Riley felt a stab of sadness in her throat.

“Bill, don’t talk like that,” she said. “You’re a great father. And you’re a great agent. Maybe not today but every other day of the year.”

Bill shook his head wearily.

“I sure didn’t feel like much of a dad yesterday. And I just keep hearing that shot. I keep remembering running into that building, seeing Lucy lying there bleeding.”

Riley felt her own body tremble a little.

She, too, remembered all too well.

Lucy had entered an abandoned building unaware of any danger, only to be taken down by a sniper’s bullet. Following close behind her, Bill had mistakenly shot a young man who had been trying to help. By the time Riley got there, Lucy had used her last ounce of strength to kill the sniper with multiple rounds.

Lucy had died moments later.

It had been an awful scene.

Riley couldn’t remember many worse situations in her entire career.

She said, “I got there even later than you did.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t shoot an innocent kid.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was dark. You had no way of knowing. Besides, that kid’s doing all right now.”

Bill shook his head. He held up a shaky hand.

“Look at me. Do I look like the kind of guy who can ever get back to work?”

Riley was almost angry now. He truly did look terrible – certainly not like the shrewd, brave partner she’d learned to trust with her life, nor the handsome man she’d felt rashly attracted to from time to time. And all this self-pity didn’t become him.

But she sternly reminded herself …

I’ve been there. I know what it’s like.

And when she’d been like this, Bill had always been there to get her through it.

Sometimes he’d had to be tough on her.

She figured he needed a bit of that toughness right now.

“You look like hell,” she said. “But the condition you’re in right now – well, you did to yourself. And you’re the only one who can fix it.”

Bill looked up into her eyes. She sensed that he was really paying attention to her now.

“Sit up,” she said. “Pull yourself together.”

Bill creakily pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed next to Riley.

“Has the agency assigned you a therapist?” she asked.

Bill nodded.

“Who is he?” Riley asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bill said.

“It sure as hell does matter,” Riley said. “Who is he?”

Bill didn’t reply. But Riley was able to guess. Bill’s assigned psychiatrist was Leonard Ralston, known better to the public as “Dr. Leo.” She felt herself flush with anger. But she wasn’t angry with Bill now.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “They’ve stuck you with Dr. Leo. Whose idea was that? Walder’s, I’ll bet.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

Riley wanted to shake him.

“He’s a quack,” she said. “You know that as well as I do. He’s into hypnosis, recovered memories, all sorts of discredited crap. Don’t you remember last year, when he persuaded an innocent man that he was guilty of murder? Walder likes Dr. Leo because he’s written books and been on TV a lot.”

“I’m not letting him mess with my head,” Bill said. “I won’t let him hypnotize me.”

Riley was trying to keep her voice under control.

“That’s not the point. You need someone who can help you.”

“And who might that be?” Bill asked.

Riley didn’t have to think about it for more than a few seconds.

“I’m going to make you some coffee,” she said. “When I get back, I expect you to be on your feet and ready to get out of this place.”

On her way to Bill’s kitchen, Riley looked at her watch. She had little time to spare before the plane would be ready. She had to act quickly.

She took out her cell phone and punched in the personal number for Mike Nevins, a forensic psychiatrist in DC who worked for the Bureau from time to time. Riley considered him to be a close friend, and he had helped her through several of her own crises in the past, including a terrible case of PTSD.

When Mike’s phone started ringing, she put her cell phone on speaker, left it on the kitchen counter, and started setting up Bill’s coffeemaker. She was relieved when Mike answered the phone.

“Riley! It’s great to hear from you! How are things? How is that growing family of yours?”

The sound of Mike’s voice was refreshing, and she could almost see the fussy, well-dressed man and his pleasant expression. She wished she could chat with him and catch up with things, but there wasn’t time for that.

“I’m fine, Mike. But I’m in a hurry. I’ve got to catch a plane shortly. I need a favor.”

“Name it,” Mike said.

“My partner, Bill Jeffreys, is going through a rough time right now after our last case.”

She could hear a note of genuine concern in Mike’s voice.

“Oh dear, I heard about that. Terrible thing, the death of that young protégé of yours. Is it true that your partner has been put on leave? Something to do with shooting the wrong man?”

“That’s right. He needs your help. And he needs it right away. He’s drinking, Mike. I’ve never seen him this bad.”

There was a short silence.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Mike said. “Hasn’t he been assigned a therapist?”

“Yeah, but he’s not doing Bill any good.”

Now there was a note of caution in Mike’s voice.

“I don’t know, Riley. I’m generally not comfortable taking patients who are already under someone else’s care.”

Riley felt a flash of worry. She didn’t have time to deal with Mike’s ethical scruples right now.

“Mike, they’ve assigned him to Dr. Leo.”

Another silence fell.

I’ll bet that did the trick, Riley thought. She knew perfectly well that Mike despised the celebrity therapist with all his heart.

Finally Mike said, “When can Bill come in?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m in my office. I’ll be tied up for a couple of hours but I can be available after that.”

“Great. He can get there by then. But please let me know if he doesn’t show up.”

“I’ll do that.”

As they ended the call, coffee was trickling into the carafe. Riley poured a cup and went back to Bill’s bedroom. He wasn’t there. But the door to the adjoining bathroom was closed, and Riley could hear Bill’s electric razor on the other side.

Riley rapped on the door.

“Yeah, I’m decent,” Bill said.

Riley opened the door and saw that Bill was shaving. She set the coffee down on the edge of the sink.

“I made you an appointment with Mike Nevins,” she said.

“For when?”

“Right now. As soon as you can get out of here and drive there. I’ll text you his office address. I’ve got to go.”

Bill looked surprised. Of course, Riley hadn’t told him anything about being in a hurry.

“I’ve got a case in Iowa,” Riley explained. “The plane’s waiting right now. Don’t skip out on Mike Nevins. I’ll find out about it, and there will be hell to pay.”

Bill grumbled, but then said, “OK, I’ll get there.”

Riley turned to leave. Then she thought of something she wasn’t sure she should bring up.

Finally she said, “Bill, Shane Hatcher’s still on the loose. There are agents posted around my house. But I got a threatening text from him, and nobody knows about it except you. I don’t think he’d attack my family, but I can’t be sure. I wonder if maybe …”

Bill nodded.

“I’ll keep an eye on things,” he said. “I need to do something useful.”

Riley gave him a quick hug and left the apartment.

As she walked toward her car, she checked her watch again.

If she didn’t run into any traffic, she’d make it to the airstrip in time.

Now she had to start thinking about her new case, but she wasn’t particularly worried about it. This one probably wouldn’t take long.

After all, how could a single small-town murder demand much in the way of time and effort?