Once Hunted (A Riley Paige Mystery—Book 5)

PROLOGUE

Special Agent Riley Paige’s speeding car shattered the silence of Fredericksburg’s dark streets. Her fifteen-year-old daughter was missing, but Riley was more furious than frightened. She had a good idea where April was—with her new boyfriend, seventeen-year-old high school dropout Joel Lambert. Riley had tried her best to put a stop to the relationship, but she hadn’t been successful.

Tonight that’s going to change,

she thought with determination.

She parked in front of Joel’s home, a rundown little house in an unsavory neighborhood. She’d been here once before and had given Joel an ultimatum to stay away from her daughter. He’d obviously ignored it.

There wasn’t a single light on in the house. Maybe nobody was even inside. Or maybe what Riley would find in there would be more than she could handle. She didn’t care. She banged on the door.

“Joel Lambert! Open up!” she yelled.

There were a few moments of silence. Riley banged on the door again. This time she heard muttered curses inside. The porch light came on. Still chained, the door opened a few inches. In the light from the porch, Riley could make out an unfamiliar face. It was a bearded, strung-out-looking man of about nineteen or twenty.

“What do you want?” the man asked groggily.

“I’m here for my daughter,” Riley said.

The man looked puzzled.

“You’ve got the wrong place, lady,” he said.

He tried to shut the door, but Riley kicked it so hard that the safety chain broke loose and the door flew open.

“Hey!” the man yelled.

Riley stormed inside. The house looked much as it had the last time she’d been here—a horrible mess filled with suspicious odors. The young man was tall and wiry. Riley detected a family resemblance between him and Joel. But he wasn’t old enough to be Joel’s father.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Guy Lambert,” he replied.

“Joel’s brother?” Riley guessed.

“Yeah. Who the hell are you?”

Riley whipped out her badge.

“Special Agent Riley Paige, FBI,” she said.

The man’s eyes got wide with alarm.

“FBI? Hey, there’s got to be some kind of mistake here.”

“Are your parents here?” Riley said.

Guy Lambert shrugged.

“Parents? What parents? Joel and I are on our own here.”

Riley was hardly surprised. The last time she’d been here, she’d suspected that Joel’s parents were out of the picture. What had become of them she couldn’t possibly guess.

“Where’s my daughter?” Riley said.

“Lady, I don’t even know your daughter.”

Riley took a step toward the nearest doorway. Guy Lambert tried to block her way.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to have a search warrant?” he asked.

Riley thrust him aside.

“I’m making the rules right now,” she snarled.

Riley went through the door into a disheveled bedroom. No one was there. She continued through another door into a filthy bathroom, and another door that connected to a second bedroom. Still no one.

She heard a voice call out from the living room.

“Hold it right there!”

She hurried back into the living room.

Now she saw that her partner, Agent Bill Jeffreys, was standing in the front doorway. She had called for his help before she’d left home. Guy Lambert was slumped on the sofa, looking despondent.

“This guy seemed to be heading out,” Bill said. “I just made it clear that he should wait here for you.”

“Where are they?” Riley demanded of Lambert. “Where are your brother and my daughter?”

“I’ve got no idea.”

Riley seized him by the T-shirt and hauled him to his feet.

“Where are your brother and my daughter?” she repeated.

When he said, “I don’t know,” she slammed him against the wall. She heard Bill let out a groan of disapproval. Doubtless he was worried that Riley might get out of control. She didn’t care.

Completely panicked now, Guy Lambert spit out an answer.

“They’re just down on the next block on this street. Thirteen thirty-four.”

Riley released him. Without another word, she stormed out the front door as Bill followed after her.

Riley had her flashlight out and was checking the house numbers. “It’s this way,” she said.

“We’ve got to call for some help,” Bill said.

“We don’t need backup,” Riley called as she ran along the sidewalk.

“That’s not what worries me.” Bill followed her.

In a few moments, Riley stood in the yard of a two-story house. It was broken-down and obviously condemned, with empty lots on either side—a typical “shooting gallery” for heroin users. It reminded her of the house where a sadistic psychopath named Peterson had held her captive. He’d kept her in a cage and tormented her with a propane torch until she’d escaped and blown the place up with his own supply of propane.

For a second, she hesitated, shaken by the memory. But then she reminded herself:

April’s in there.

“Get ready,” she told Bill.

Bill took out his own flashlight and his gun, and they moved together toward the house.

When Riley arrived at the porch, she saw that the windows were boarded up. She had no intention of knocking this time. She didn’t want to give Joel or anyone else who was in there any warning.

She tried the doorknob. It turned. But the door was locked by a deadbolt. She pulled out her gun and fired, blasting the deadbolt away. She turned the knob again and the door fell open.

Even after the darkness outside, her eyes had to adjust as she and Bill stepped into the living room. The only light came from scattered candles. They illuminated a ghastly scene of trash and debris that included empty heroin bags, hypodermics, and other drug paraphernalia. About seven people were visible—two or three of them getting sluggishly to their feet after the racket Riley had made, the rest still lying on the floor or curled up in chairs in a drug-induced stupor. They all looked wasted and ill, and their clothes were filthy and tattered.

Riley holstered her weapon. She clearly didn’t need it—not yet.

“Where’s April?” she yelled. “Where’s Joel Lambert?”

A man who had just stood up said in a foggy voice, “Upstairs.”

With Bill behind her, Riley made her way up the dark stairway, shining the flashlight ahead of her. She could feel the rotting steps giving under her weight. She and Bill stepped into the hallway at the top of the stairs. Three doorways, one of them leading into a vile-smelling bathroom, had been stripped of their doors and were visibly empty. The fourth doorway still had a door, and it was shut.

Riley stepped toward the door. Bill held out his hand to stop her.

“Let me go in first,” he said.

Ignoring him, Riley pushed past him, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Riley’s legs almost gave out from under her at what she saw. April was lying on a bare mattress, murmuring “No, no, no” over and over again. She writhed feebly as Joel Lambert struggled to pull off her clothes. An overweight, homely man stood nearby, waiting for Joel to finish his task. A needle and a spoon lay on the candlelit bed stand.

Riley understood in an instant. Joel had drugged April almost into unconsciousness and was offering her as a sexual favor to this repulsive man—whether for money or some other purpose, Riley didn’t know.

She drew her weapon again and pointed it at Joel. It was all she could do to restrain herself from shooting him right away.

“Back away from her,” she said.

Joel clearly understood her state of mind. He raised his hands and stepped away from the bed.

Indicating the other man, Riley said to Bill, “Cuff this bastard. Take him back to your car. Now you can call for help.”

“Riley, listen to me …” Bill’s voice trailed off.

Riley knew what Bill was leaving unsaid. He understood perfectly well that all Riley wanted was a few minutes alone with Joel. He was understandably reluctant to allow that.

Still keeping her gun pointed at Joel, Riley looked at Bill with an imploring expression. Bill slowly nodded, then went over to the man, read him his rights, cuffed him, and led him outside.

Riley shut the door behind them. Then she stood silently facing Joel Lambert, her gun still raised. This was the boy that April had fallen in love with. But this was no ordinary teenager. He was deeply involved with the drug trade. He had used those drugs on her own daughter and had obviously intended to sell April’s body. This was not a person capable of loving anyone.

“What do you think you’re going to do, cop lady?” he said. “I’ve got rights, you know.” He flashed her the same slightly smirking smile he’d displayed the last time she’d seen him.

The gun trembled slightly in Riley’s hand. She was itching to pull the trigger and blow this lowlife away. But she couldn’t let herself do that.

She noticed that Joel was edging toward the end table. He was sturdily built, and he was a bit taller than Riley. He was moving toward a baseball bat, obviously kept for self-defense purposes, that was leaning against the table. Riley suppressed a grim smile. It looked like he was going to do exactly what she wanted him to do.

“You’re under arrest,” she said.

She holstered her weapon and reached for the cuffs on the back of her belt. Exactly as she’d hoped, Joel lunged for the baseball bat, picked it up, and swung it wildly at Riley. She deftly avoided the blow and braced herself for the next swing.

This time Joel raised the bat high, meaning to smash her head with it. But as his arm came down, Riley ducked and reached for the small end of the bat. She grabbed it, then yanked it away from him. She enjoyed the surprised look on his face as he lost his balance.

Joel reached for the end table to stop himself from falling. When his hand was fast against the table, Riley brought the bat crashing down on it. She could hear the bones breaking.

Joel let out a pathetic scream and fell to the floor.

“You crazy bitch!” he yelled. “You broke my hand.”

Panting for breath, Riley cuffed him to a bedpost.

“Couldn’t help it,” she said. “You resisted, and I accidentally slammed your hand in the door. Sorry about that.”

Riley cuffed his undamaged hand to the bottom of a bedpost. Then she stepped on his broken hand and shifted her weight onto it.

Joel screamed and writhed. His feet thrashed around helplessly.

“No, no, no!” he shouted.

Still keeping her foot in place, Riley crouched down close to his face.

Mockingly, she said, “‘No, no, no!’ Where did I hear those words before? Just in the last few minutes?”

Joel was blubbering with pain and terror.

Riley pushed down with her foot.

“Who said it?” she demanded.

“Your daughter … she said it.”

“Said what?”

“‘No, no, no …’”

Riley let up on the pressure a little.

“And why did my daughter say that?” she asked.

Joel could barely speak through his violent sobs.

“Because … she was helpless … and hurting. I get it. I understand.”

Riley removed her foot. She figured he got the message—at least for now, although probably not for good. But this was the best—or worst—she could do for now. He deserved death, or far worse. But she couldn’t bring herself to give it to him. At least he would never use that hand properly again.

Riley left Joel, cuffed and cringing, and rushed to her daughter’s side. April’s eyes were dilated, and Riley knew that she was having trouble seeing her.

“Mom?” April said in a low whimper.

The sound of that word unleashed a world of anguish in Riley. She burst into tears as she started to help April get back into her clothes.

“I’m getting you out of here,” she said through her sobs. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Yet even as she spoke the words, Riley prayed that they were true.