Once Taken Read Free Page A

again.

Chapter 3
    Riley hesitated for a moment as she entered the BAU building, wondering if she was really ready to face anyone today. She hadn’t slept all night, and was bone-tired. The sensation of terror that had kept her awake all night had run her adrenaline until there was nothing left. Now, she just felt hollowed out.
    Riley took a deep breath.
    The only way out is through.
    She gathered her resolve and walked into the busy maze of FBI agents, specialists, and support staff. As she wound her way through the open bay area, familiar faces looked up from their computers. Most smiled to see her and several gave her a thumbs-up. Riley slowly felt glad she had decided to come in. She’d needed something to lift to her spirits.
    “Way to go with the Dolly Killer,” one young agent said.
    It took Riley a couple of seconds to understand what he meant. Then she realized that “Dolly Killer” must be the new nickname for Dirk Monroe, the psychopath she had just taken down. The name made sense.
    Riley also noticed that some of the faces looked at her more warily. Doubtless they had heard about the incident at her house last night when a whole team had raced to her frantic call for backup. They probably wonder if I’m in my right mind, she thought. As far as she knew, absolutely no one else in the Bureau believed that Peterson was still alive.
    Riley stopped by the desk of Sam Flores, a lab technician with black-rimmed glasses, hard at work at his computer.
    “What news have you got for me, Sam?” Riley said.
    Sam looked up from the screen at her.
    “You mean about your break-in, right? I’m just now looking at some preliminary reports. I’m afraid there won’t be much. The lab guys didn’t get anything off the pebbles—no DNA or fibers. No fingerprints, either.”
    Riley sighed with discouragement.
    “Let me know if anything changes,” she said, patting Flores on the back.
    “I wouldn’t count on it,” Flores said.
    Riley continued on to the area shared by senior agents. As she passed by the small glass-walled offices, she saw that Bill wasn’t in. That was actually a relief, but she knew that sooner or later she would have to clear up the recent awkwardness between them.
    When she set foot in her own neat, well-organized office, Riley immediately noticed that she had a phone message. It was from Mike Nevins, the D.C. forensic psychiatrist who sometimes consulted on BAU cases. Over the years, she had found him a source remarkable insight, and not only into cases. Mike had helped Riley through her own bout of PTSD after Peterson had captured and tortured her. She knew he was calling to check up on her, as he often did.
    She was about to call him back, when the broad frame of Special Agent Brent Meredith appeared in her doorway. The unit commander’s black, angular features hinted at his tough, no-nonsense personality. Riley felt relieved at the sight of him, always reassured by his presence.
    “Welcome back, Agent Paige,” he said.
    Riley got up to shake his hand. “Thanks, Agent Meredith.”
    “I hear you had another little adventure last night. I hope you’re all right.”
    “I’m fine, thanks.”
    Meredith looked at her with warm concern, and Riley knew that he was trying to assess her readiness for work.
    “Would you like to join me in the break area for some coffee?” he asked.
    “Thanks, but there are some files I really need to review. Some other time.”
    Meredith nodded and said nothing. Riley knew he was waiting for her to speak. Doubtless he had also heard about her belief that Peterson had been the intruder. He was giving her a chance to voice her opinion. But she was sure that Meredith wouldn’t be any more inclined than anybody else to agree with her about Peterson.
    “Well, I’d better be going,” he said. “Let me know whenever you’re up for coffee or lunch.”
    “I’ll do that.”
    Meredith paused and turned back toward Riley.
    Slowly and carefully, he said, “Do be