style="font-size:15px;"> 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 breakup and divorce. He’d find it hard to believe that Ryan was a changed man.
When she opened the door to her own office, she had to double check to make sure she was in the right place. It all looked far too neat and well organized. Had they given her office to another agent? Had someone else been working here?
Riley opened a drawer and found familiar files, though now in better order.
Who would have straightened everything up for her?
Certainly not Bill. He would have known better.
Lucy Vargas, maybe, she thought.
Lucy was a young agent that both she and Bill had worked with and liked. If Lucy was the culprit behind all this neatness, at least she’d done it in a spirit of helpfulness.
Riley sat at her desk for a few minutes.
Images and memories came to her—the girl’s coffin, her devastated parents, and Riley’s terrible dream of the hanged girl surrounded by mementos. She also remembered how Dean Autrey had evaded her questions, and how Hazel Webber had outright lied.
She reminded herself of what she’d said to Hazel Webber. She’d promised to get an official investigation underway. And it was time to make good on that promise.
She picked up her office phone and buzzed her boss, Brent Meredith.
