Once Hunted

“I wish he would,” Riley said.

Bill looked a little shocked.

“You don’t mean that,” he said.

“I do mean that,” Riley said. “If he’d only show himself, maybe I could do something. This is like playing a chess game blindfolded. How can I make my own move if I don’t know his moves?”

Bill and Riley sipped on their drinks in silence for a few moments.

“You met him too, Bill,” Riley said. “What’s your take on him?”

Bill let out a long sigh.

“Well, he certainly seemed to figure me out in a hurry,” he said. “He told me to forget about fixing things up with Maggie. I had no idea how right he was.”

“How are things with Maggie these days?” Riley asked.

Bill rattled the ice around in his glass.

“Nowhere,” he said. “I’m feeling stranded. Six months of separation, no chance of getting back together, but six months to go before the divorce becomes final. It feels like my life is standing still. At least she’s easing up on custody of the boys. She’s letting them spend time with me.”

“That’s good,” Riley said.

She noticed that Bill was now gazing at her wistfully.

That’s not good, she thought.

She and Bill had spent years struggling with their mutual attraction, sometimes very clumsily. Riley still winced as she remembered once drunkenly calling him and proposing that they have an affair. Their friendship and professional relationship had barely survived that miserable episode.

She didn’t want to start down that road again, especially now that things were so confusing with both Ryan and Blaine. She gulped down the rest of her drink.

“It’s time for me to turn in,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” Bill said with a note of reluctance in his voice.

They paid the bill and left the bar. Bill headed straight toward his hotel room. In all the day’s hectic confusion, Riley hadn’t yet brought in her own travel bag and personal items from the car. She walked down a stairwell and through a door that led directly into the hotel’s basement parking garage.

A cold blast of air hit her hard when she stepped into the concrete space. No one was in sight.

She headed straight toward the borrowed FBI SUV on the opposite side of the garage. The moment she got there and reached for the door handle, her peripheral vision caught a flash of movement somewhere to her left.

She turned her head to look. She saw nothing except parked cars, although she thought her ears detected an echo of movement. She was sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. Someone else was in the garage.

“Hello,” she called out.

Her voice resonated loudly through the garage, followed by the moaning sound of cold wind.

A rush of adrenaline shot through her. She was sure someone was here and avoiding her sight. Who could it possibly be except Shane Hatcher?

She drew her weapon, wondering whether he had a gun as well. If so, would he use it? No, simply shooting somebody hardly seemed Hatcher’s style. She wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t even armed – but he’d be no less dangerous even so.

She walked cautiously toward where she thought she’d heard the sound. Now her own footsteps sounded positively deafening as they rang through the garage. Before she’d walked more than a few feet, she heard a noisy crack behind her, followed by a rattling sound.

She whirled around, her gun raised and ready. But at that very second, she heard a clatter of running footsteps from the opposite direction. She whirled again, but saw and heard nothing.

She instantly understood what had just happened. He’d thrown something – a pebble, maybe – across the way to distract her. Now he was moving among the parked cars somewhere. But where?

Turning around and around as she walked, she threaded her way among the parked cars, looking everywhere she possibly could.

Finally she reached the garage exit. Snow was falling outside. And there he was – unmistakably silhouetted in the open space against the glaring outdoor lights.

“Hatcher!” Riley yelled, pointing her gun. “Freeze!”

She heard a familiar, grim chuckle. Then he disappeared into the night.

Riley broke into a run and rushed through the wide exit. The wind and cold were much sharper outside the garage, and Riley wasn’t warmly dressed. She shivered deeply and almost choked on the cold air. Snowflakes stuck to her face and stung her skin.

The driveway outside the garage wound a short way to the well-lighted street. Turning and turning, looking everywhere, Riley called out.

“Hatcher! Show yourself!”

Now the air was filled with the low rumble of nearby traffic. Looking around at the snow-covered shapes of trees and bushes, Riley found it hard to imagine that he was hidden among them.

“Hatcher!” she yelled again.

Finally she reached the street and looked up and down the cleared sidewalks along the street. She saw no sign of anyone.

He’s gone, she decided.

Still watching all sides, Riley made her way back to the garage. Just as she stepped into the broad opening, she heard a flutter of movement.