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Once Gone
Riley opened her mouth to speak, but no words at all came out. Beverly leaned forward and put one hand on Riley’s arm. The specialist’s face was still warm and friendly, but the fingers were quite firm.
Beverly spoke very slowly, as if explaining something to a child.
“I can’t find the receipt,” she said. “It’s not here.”
Riley understood Beverly’s unspoken meaning. With her eyes, Beverly was telling her that the interview had gotten out of control, and that it was time for her to leave.
“I’ll take it from here,” Beverly mouthed in a barely audible whisper.
Riley whispered back to her, “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
Beverly smiled and nodded sympathetically.
Nathaniel sat with his face buried in his hands. He didn’t even look up at Riley as she and Bill stood up to leave.
They left the apartment and went back down the stairs to the street. They both got into Riley’s car but she didn’t start the engine. She felt her own tears welling up.
I don’t know where to go, she thought. I don’t know what to do.
It seemed to be the story of her life these days.
“It’s dolls, Bill,” she said. She was trying to explain her new theory to herself as much as to him. “It’s definitely got something to do with dolls. Do you remember what Roy Geraty told us in Belding?”
Bill shrugged. “He said that his first wife – Margaret – didn’t like dolls. They made her sad, he said. He said they sometimes made her cry.”
“Yeah, because she couldn’t have kids of her own,” Riley said. “But he said something else. He said she had all kinds of friends and relatives having kids of their own. He said that she was always having to go to baby showers, and to help out with birthday parties.”
Riley could see by Bill’s expression that he was starting to understand now.
“So she sometimes had to buy dolls,” he said. “Even if they did make her sad.”
Riley struck the steering wheel with her fist.
“They all bought dolls,” she said. “He saw them buying dolls. And he saw them buy the dolls in the same place, in the same store.”
Bill nodded. “We’ve got to find that store,” he said.
“Right,” Riley said. “Somewhere in our thousand-plus-square-mile area, there’s a doll store that all the kidnapped women went to. And he went there too. If we can find it, maybe – just maybe – we can find him.”
At that moment, Bill’s cell phone rang.
“Hello?” he said. “Yeah, Agent Walder, this is Jeffreys.”
Riley stifled a moan. She wondered what kind of hassle Walder was about to cause them now.
She saw Bill’s mouth drop open with stunned surprise.
“Jesus,” he said. “Jesus. Okay. Okay. We’ll be right there.”
Bill ended the call and stared at Riley, dumbstruck for a few seconds.
“Walder and those kids he brought along,” he said. “They’ve caught him.”
Chapter 19
Riley and Bill arrived at the Behavioral Analysis Unit to find Walder waiting for them at the door.
“We’ve got him,” Walder said, ushering them into the building. “We’ve got the guy.”
Riley could hear both elation and relief in his voice.
“How?” she demanded.
“Agent Paige, you’ve seriously underestimated Huang and Creighton,” Walder said. “After you left, the receptionist told them about a creepy guy who’d been hanging around the clinic recently. His name is Darrell Gumm. Women patients had complained about him. He was always getting too close to them, they said, not respecting their personal space. He also said some pretty unsavory things to them. And once or twice he actually sneaked into the women’s restroom.”
Riley mulled this over, checking it against her own assumptions about the perpetrator. It could be him, she thought. She felt a flutter of excitement in her throat.
Bill asked Walder, “Didn’t anybody at the clinic call the police about Gumm?”
“They were letting their own security guy handle it. The guard told Gumm to stay away. At that kind of facility they do get oddballs from time to time. But Huang and Creighton picked up on the description. They realized he sounded like the guy we’re looking for. They got his address from the receptionist, and we all headed over to his apartment.”
“How do you know it’s him?” Riley asked.
“He confessed,” Walder said firmly. “We got a confession out of him.”
Riley began to feel a touch of relief herself. “And Cindy MacKinnon?” she asked. “Where is she?”
“We’re working on it,” Walder said.
Riley’s relief faded. “What do you mean, ‘working on it’?” she asked.
“We’ve got field agents sweeping the neighborhood. We don’t think he could have taken her very far. Anyhow, he’ll tell us very soon. He’s doing plenty of talking.”
This had better be the guy, Riley thought. Cindy MacKinnon simply had to be alive. They couldn’t lose yet another innocent woman to this twisted brute. His timeline was tightening up, but surely she wouldn’t already be dead this soon after the abduction. He hadn’t had the pleasure of torturing her yet.
Bill asked Walder, “Where is the suspect now?”
Walder pointed the way. “We’ve got him over in the detention center,” he said. “Come on. I’m headed there now.”
Walder filled them in as they walked through the extensive BAU complex to the building where suspects were held.
“When we flashed our badges,” Walder said grimly, “he invited us to come right in and make ourselves at home. Self-confident bastard.”
Riley thought that sounded right. If Darren Gumm really was the perp, the agents’ arrival might have been just the denouement he’d been hoping for. He might well have intended to get caught all along, after an all-too-clever, two-year game of cat and mouse with the authorities. Maybe the reward he’d been hoping for all along was fame – a lot more than fifteen minutes of fame.
The trouble was, Riley knew, he could still use his latest captive to toy with them all. And he could well be the type who would do that.
“You should have seen his place,” Walder went on. “A filthy little one-room pit, with a fold-out couch and a tiny bathroom that stinks to high heaven. And on the walls, absolutely everywhere, he’s got news clippings about assaults and rapes and murders from all over the country. No sign of a computer, he’s completely off the grid, but I’ve got to say, he’s got an analog database of psychopathic criminality that a lot of police departments would envy.”
“And let me guess,” Bill put in. “He had a cluster of stories posted up about our killings – pretty much all the information that’s been made public about them for all of two years.”
“He sure as hell did,” Walder said. “Creighton and Huang asked him a few questions, and he acted as suspicious as hell. Finally Huang asked what he knew about Cindy MacKinnon and he clammed up. It was obvious he knew who we meant. We had enough to arrest him. And he confessed almost as soon as we got him here.”
At that moment Walder led Riley and Bill into a little room with a one-way window that looked into an interrogation room.
The interrogation was already well under way. On one side of the table sat Agent Emily Creighton. Agent Craig Huang was pacing the floor behind her. Riley thought that the two young agents actually looked more capable than they had before. On the other side of the table sat Darrell Gumm. His wrists were cuffed to the tabletop.
Riley was repelled by him immediately. He was a little toad of a man, somewhere around thirty, of medium build, and somewhat pudgy. But he looked sufficiently sturdy to be a plausible physical threat, especially to defenseless women caught by surprise. His forehead sloped sharply backwards, making his skull look like that of some long extinct hominid. His chin was all but nonexistent. All in all, he certainly fit Riley’s expectations. And his confession did seem to wrap things up.
“Where is she?” Creighton shouted at Gumm.
Riley could tell by the impatient crackle in Creighton’s voice that she had already asked that question many times.
“Where is who?” Gumm asked in a high and unpleasant voice. His expression fairly reeked of contempt and insolence.
“Stop playing games with us,” Huang said sharply.
“I don’t have to say anything without a lawyer present, right?” Gumm said.
Creighton nodded. “We already told you that. We’ll bring in a lawyer any time you ask for one. You keep saying you don’t want one. That’s your right too. You can waive your right to an attorney. Have you changed your mind?”
Gumm tilted his head and looked at the ceiling, mock-thoughtfully.
“Let me think about that. No, I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”
Huang leaned across the table toward him, trying hard to look menacing.
“I’m asking for the last time,” he said. “Where did you hide the truck?”
Gumm shrugged. “And I’m saying for the last time – what truck? I don’t own a truck. I don’t even own a car. Shit, I don’t even have a driver’s license.”
Speaking in a low voice, Walder informed Riley and Bill, “That last bit is true. No driver’s license, no voter registration, no credit cards, nothing at all. He really does live off the grid. No wonder the truck didn’t have a license plate. He probably stole it. But he couldn’t have driven it far in the time he had. It has to be somewhere near his apartment.”
Agent Creighton was scowling at Gumm now.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” she said. “You’ve got some poor woman tied up somewhere. You’ve admitted that much already. She’s scared to death, and I’ll bet she’s hungry and thirsty too. How long are you going to let her suffer? Are you really willing to let her die like that?”
Gumm snickered.
“Is this the part where you knock me around?” he asked. “Or is this when you tell me that you can get me to talk without leaving any visible marks?”
Riley had tried to keep quiet, but she couldn’t contain herself any longer.
“They’re not asking the right questions,” she said.
She pushed past Walder and headed through the door that led into the interrogation room.
“Hold it, Agent Paige,” Walder commanded.
Ignoring him, Riley charged into the room. She rushed toward the table, planted both hands on it, and leaned intimidatingly toward Gumm.
“Tell me, Darrell,” she snarled. “Do you like dolls?”
For the first time, Darrell’s face showed a trace of alarm.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked Riley.
“I’m somebody you don’t want to lie to,” Riley said. “Do you like dolls?”
Darrell’s eyes darted around the room.
“I dunno,” he said. “Dolls? They’re cute, I guess.”
“Oh, you think they’re more than cute, don’t you?” Riley said. “You were that kind of boy when you were little – the kind who liked to play with dolls, the kind that all the kids make fun of.”
Darrell turned toward the mirror that was on his side of the one-way window.
“I know somebody’s back there,” he called out, sounding scared now. “Will somebody get this crazy woman away from me?”
Riley walked around the table, pushed Huang aside, and stood right next to Gumm. Then she shoved her face toward his face. He leaned back, trying to escape her gaze. But she wouldn’t give him room to breathe. Their faces were only three or four inches apart.
“And you still like dolls, don’t you?” Riley hissed, pounding her fist on the table. “Little girl dolls. You like to take their clothes off. You like to see them naked. What do you like to do with them when they’re naked?”
Darrell’s eyes widened.
Riley held his gaze for a long moment. She hesitated, trying to read his expression clearly. Was that contempt or disgust that turned his mouth down so sharply?
She opened her mouth to ask more, but the door to the interrogation room burst open behind her. She heard Walder’s stern voice.
“Agent Paige, I want you out of here right now.”
“Give me just another minute,” she said.
“Now!”
Riley stood over Gumm in silence for a moment. Now he just looked bewildered. She looked around and saw that Huang and Creighton were staring at her in dumbfounded disbelief. Then she turned away and followed Walder out into the adjoining room.
“What the hell was that all about?” Walder demanded. You’re reaching. You don’t want this case to be closed. It is closed. Get over it. All we’ve got to do now is find the victim.”
Riley groaned aloud.
“I think you’ve got it wrong,” she said. “I don’t think this guy reacts to dolls the way the killer would. I need more time to be sure.”
Walder stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.
“This really hasn’t been your day, has it, Agent Paige?” he said. “In fact, I’d say you haven’t been at your best during this whole case. Oh, you were right about one thing. Gumm doesn’t seem to have had a connection to the Senator – neither political nor personal. Well, that hardly matters. I’m sure the Senator will be gratified that we brought his daughter’s killer to justice.”
It was all Riley could do to hold her temper.
“Agent Walder, with all due respect – ” she began.
Walder interrupted. “And that’s just your problem, Agent Paige. Your respect toward me has been severely lacking. I’m tired of your insubordination. Don’t worry, I’m not going to file a negative report. You’ve done good work in the past and I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt now. I’m sure you’re still traumatized from all you went through yourself. But you can go home now. We’ll handle things from here.”
Then Walder patted Bill on the shoulder.
“I’d like you to stay, Agent Jeffreys,” he said.
Bill was fuming now. “If she’s going, I’m going,” he growled.
Bill led Riley out into the hallway. Walder stepped out of the room to watch them leave. But a short distance down the hallway, certainty caught up with Riley. The suspect’s face had showed disgust, she was sure of that now. Her questions about naked dolls had not excited him. They had just confused him.
Riley was shaking all over. She and Bill continued on their way out of the building.
“He’s not the guy,” she uttered softly to Bill. “I’m sure of it.”
Bill looked back, shocked, and she stopped and stared at him with full intensity.
“She’s still out there,” she added. “And they have no idea where she is.”
* * *
Long after dark, Riley paced the floor at home, replaying every detail of the case in her mind. She’d even fired off emails and text messages in an effort to alert members of the Bureau that Walder had brought in the wrong man.
She had driven Bill home and been very late yet again picking up April. Riley was grateful that April hadn’t made a fuss about it this time. Still subdued from the pot-smoking incident, April had even been rather pleasant as they put together a late supper and shared small talk.
Midnight came and went, and Riley felt as if her mind were going in circles. She wasn’t getting anywhere. She needed someone to talk to, someone to bounce ideas off of. She thought about calling Bill. Surely he wouldn’t mind getting called this late.
But no, she needed someone else – someone with insights that weren’t easy to come by, someone whose judgment she’d learned to trust from past experience.
At last, she realized who that someone was.
She called a number on her cell phone and was dismayed to hear yet another recorded message.
“You’ve reached the number of Michael Nevins. Please leave a message at the tone.”
Riley took a deep breath, then said, “Mike, could we talk? If you’re there, please pick up. It’s really an emergency.”
No one answered. She wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t available. He often worked all hours. She just wished this weren’t one of those times.
Finally she said, “I’m working on a bitch of a case, and I think maybe you’re the only one who can help me. I’ll drive up to your office first thing tomorrow morning. I hope that’s okay. Like I said, it’s an emergency.”
She ended the call. There was nothing more she could do right now. She only hoped she could get a few hours of sleep.
Chapter 20
The chair was comfortable and the surroundings were elegant, but the soft lighting in Mike Nevins’s office did nothing to raise Riley’s spirits. Cindy was still missing. God only knew what was happening to her right now. Was she being tortured? The way Riley had been?
The agents sweeping the neighborhood still hadn’t found her, not even after twenty-four hours. That came as no surprise to Riley. She knew they were looking in the wrong area. The problem was that neither she nor anyone else had any clues to the right area. She didn’t want to wonder how far away the killer had taken her – or if she was still alive.
“We’re losing her, Mike,” Riley said. “With every minute that goes by, she’s in more pain. She’s closer to death.”
“What makes you so sure they’ve got the wrong man?” forensic psychiatrist Michael Nevins asked her.
Always immaculately groomed and wearing an expensive shirt with a vest, Nevins had a meticulous, fussy persona. Riley liked him all the more because of it. She found him refreshing. They had first met over a decade ago, when he was a consultant on a high-profile FBI case that she worked on. His office was in D.C., so they didn’t get together often. But over the years they’d often found that weaving together her instincts and his deep background knowledge gave them a unique insight into devious minds. She’d driven to see him first thing this morning.
“Where do I begin?” Riley replied with a shudder.
“Take your time,” he said.
She sipped at a mug of the delicious hot tea he had given her.
“I saw him,” she said. “I asked him some questions, but Walder wouldn’t let me spend any time with him.”
“And he doesn’t fit your profile?”
“Mike, this Darrell Gumm guy is a wannabe,” she continued. “He’s got some kind of fanboy fantasy about psychopaths. He wants to be one. He wants to be famous for it. But he doesn’t have what it takes. He’s creepy, but he’s not a killer. It’s just that right now he gets to act out his fantasy to the hilt. It’s his dream come true.”
Mike stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And you don’t think the real killer wants fame?”
She said, “He might be interested in fame, and he might even want it, but it’s not what makes him tick. He’s driven by something else, something more personal. The victims represent something to him, and he enjoys their pain because of who or what they stand for. They’re not chosen randomly.”
“Then how?
Riley shook her head. She wished she could put it into words better than she could.
“It’s got something to do with dolls, Mike. The guy’s obsessed with them. And dolls have something to do with how he targets the women.”
Then she sighed. At this point, this didn’t even sound very convincing to her. And yet she was sure that was the right track.
Mike was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I know that you have a talent for recognizing the nature of evil. I’ve always trusted your instincts. But if you’re right, this suspect they’re holding has got everybody else fooled. And not all FBI agents are fools.”
“But some of them are,” Riley said. “I can’t get the woman he took yesterday out of my mind. I keep thinking about what she’s going through right now.” Then she blurted out the point of her visit with the psychiatrist. “Mike, could you question Darrell Gumm? You’d see through him in a second.”
Mike looked startled. “They haven’t called me in on this one,” he said. “I checked on the case this morning and I was told that Dr. Ralston interviewed him yesterday. Apparently he agrees that Gumm’s the killer. He even got Gumm to sign a written confession. The case is closed as far as the Bureau is concerned. They think that now they just need to find the woman. They’re sure they’ll get Gumm to talk.”
Riley rolled her eyes with exasperation.
“But Ralston’s a quack,” she said. “He’s Walder’s toady. He’ll come to any conclusion Walder wants.”
Mike didn’t say anything. He just smiled at Riley. Riley was pretty sure that Mike held Ralston in the same contempt as she did. But he was too professional to say so.
“I haven’t been able to figure this one out,” Riley said. “Will you at least read the files and tell me what you think?”
Mike seemed deep in thought. Then he said, “Let’s talk about you a little. How long have you been back on the job?”
Riley had to think about that. This case had consumed her but it was still new.
“About a week,” she said.
He tilted his head with concern. “You’re pushing very hard. You always do.”
“The man has killed one woman in that time and taken another. I should have stayed on the case since I first saw his work six months ago. I should never have dropped out on it.”
“You were interrupted.”
She knew he was referring to her own capture and torture. She had spent hours describing that to Mike and he had helped her through it.
“I’m back now. And another woman is in trouble.”
“Who are you working with now?”
“Bill Jeffreys again. He’s terrific but his imagination isn’t as active as mine is. He hasn’t come up with anything either,”
“How is that working for you? Being with Jeffreys every day?”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Mike gazed quietly at her for a moment, then leaned toward her with an expression of concern.
“I mean, are you sure your head is clear? Are you sure you’re in this game? I guess what I’m asking is – which criminal are you really after?”
Riley squinted, a little surprised by this apparent change of topic.
“What do you mean, which?” she asked.
“The new one, or the old one?”
A silence fell between them.
“I think that maybe you’re actually here to talk about you,” Mike said softly. “I know that you’ve always had trouble believing that Peterson died in that explosion.”
Riley didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected this; she hadn’t expected the tables to turn on her.
“That’s beside the point,” Riley said.
“What about your meds, Riley?” Mike asked.
Again, Riley didn’t reply. She hadn’t taken her prescribed tranquilizer for days. She didn’t want to blunt her concentration.
“I’m not sure I like where you’re going with this,” Riley said.
Mike took a long sip from his mug of tea.
“You’re carrying a lot of emotional baggage,” he said. “You got divorced this year, and I’m aware that your feelings about that are conflicted. And of course, you lost your mother in such a horrible, tragic way all those years ago.”
Riley’s face flushed with irritation. She didn’t want to get into this.
“We’ve talked about the circumstances of your own abduction,” Mike went on. “You pushed the limits. You took a huge risk. Your actions were really pretty foolhardy.”
“I got Marie out,” she said.
“At great cost to yourself.”
Riley took a long, deep breath.
“You’re saying maybe I brought it on myself,” she said. “Because my marriage fell apart, because of how my mother got killed. You’re saying maybe I think I deserved it. So I attracted this to myself. I put myself in this situation.”
Mike smiled back with a sympathetic smile.
“I’m just saying you need to take a good hard look at yourself right now. Ask yourself what’s really going on inside.”
Riley struggled for breath, fighting back tears. Mike was right. She had been wondering all these things. That’s why his words were hitting her so hard. But she’d been ignoring those half-submerged thoughts. And it was high time she figured out if any of it was true.
“I was doing my job, Mike,” she said in a choked voice.
“I know,” he said. “None of it was your fault. Do you know that? It’s the self-blame I worry about. You attract what you feel you deserve. You create your own life circumstances.”
Riley stood, unable to hear any more.
“I wasn’t taken, Doctor, because I attracted it,” she said. “I was taken because there are psychos out there.”
* * *
Riley hurried to the nearest exit, into the open courtyard. It was a beautiful summer day. She took several long, slow breaths, calming herself a little. Then she sat down on a bench and buried her head in her hands.
At that moment her cell phone buzzed.
Marie.
Her gut told her right away that the call was urgent.
Riley answered and heard nothing but convulsive gasps.
“Marie,” Riley asked, concerned, “what is it?”
For a moment, Riley only heard sobs. Marie was obviously in an even worse state than she was.
“Riley,” Marie finally gasped, “have you found him? Have you been looking for him? Has anybody been looking for him?”
Riley’s spirits sank. Of course Marie was talking about Peterson. She wanted to assure her that he was really dead, killed in that explosion. But how could she say so positively when she harbored doubts herself? She remembered what forensics tech agent Betty Richter had told her a few days ago about the odds that Peterson was really dead.
I’d say ninety-nine percent.
That figure hadn’t given Riley any comfort. And it was the last thing Marie wanted or needed to hear right now.
“Marie,” Riley said miserably, “there’s nothing I can do.”
Marie let out a wail of despair that chilled Riley to the bone.
“Oh, God, then it is him!” she cried. “It can’t be anybody else.”
Riley’s nerves quickened. “What are you talking about, Marie? What’s happened?”
Marie’s words poured out in a frantic rush.
“I told you he’d been calling me. I cut off my landline, but somehow he’s got my cell phone number. He keeps calling all the time. He doesn’t say anything, he just calls and breathes, but I know it’s him. Who else can it be? And he’s been here, Riley. He’s been to my house.”
Riley’s alarm mounted by the second.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I hear noises at night. He throws things at the door and my bedroom window. Pebbles, I think.”
Riley’s heart jumped as she remembered the pebbles on her own front stoop. Was it possible that Peterson was really alive? Were both she and Marie in danger all over again?
She knew she had to choose her words carefully. Marie was clearly teetering on an extremely dangerous brink.
“I’m coming to you right now, Marie,” she said. “And I’ll get the Bureau to look into this.”
Marie let out a harsh, desperate, and bitter laugh.
“Look into it?” she echoed. “Forget it, Riley. You said it already. There’s nothing you can do. You’re not going to do anything. Nobody’s going to do anything. Nobody can do anything.”
Riley got in her car and put the phone on speaker so she could talk and drive.
“Stay on the phone,” she said, as she started her car and headed for Georgetown. “I’m coming for you.”
