ONCE LOST Page 4

  It was a hand—a young woman’s hand.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next morning, Riley watched as Blaine fixed a breakfast of eggs Benedict with fresh squeezed orange juice and rich, dark coffee. She reflected that passionate lovemaking was not limited to ex-husbands. And she realized that waking up in comfort with a man was something new.

  She felt grateful for this morning, and grateful to Gabriela, who had assured her she would take care of everything when Riley had phoned her last night. But she couldn’t help but wonder if a relationship like this would survive, given the many other complications of her life.

  Riley decided to ignore that question and focus on the delicious meal. But as they ate, she soon noticed that Blaine’s mind seemed to be elsewhere.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked him.

  Blaine didn’t reply. His eyes roamed about uneasily.

  She felt a flash of worry. What was the problem?

  Was he having second thoughts about last night? Was he less contented with this than she was?

  “Blaine, what’s wrong?” Riley asked, her voice shaking a little.

  After a pause, Blaine said, “Riley, I just don’t feel … safe.”

  Riley struggled to make sense of what Blaine had said. Was all the warmth and affection they’d shared since their date last night suddenly gone? What had happened between them to change everything?

  “I—I don’t understand,” she stammered. “What do you mean, you don’t feel safe?”

  Blaine hesitated, then said, “I think I need to buy a gun. For home protection.”

  His words jolted Riley. She hadn’t expected this.

  But maybe I should have, she thought.

  Sitting across the table from him, she could see a scar on his right cheek. He’d gotten that scar last November in Riley’s own home, trying to protect April and Gabriela from an attacker bent on revenge.

  Riley remembered the terrible guilt she’d felt at seeing Blaine unconscious in a hospital bed after it was over.

  And now she felt that guilt all over again.

  Would Blaine ever feel safe with Riley in her life? Would he ever feel that his daughter could be safe?

  And was a gun what he really needed to make him feel safer?

  Riley shook her head.

  “I don’t know, Blaine,” she said. “I’m not a great fan of civilians keeping weapons in their homes.”

  As soon as the words were out, Riley realized how patronizing they sounded.

  She couldn’t tell from Blaine’s expression whether he was offended or not. He seemed to be waiting for her to say more.

  Riley sipped her coffee, gathering her thoughts.

  She said, “Did you know that statistically, home weapons are more likely to lead to homicides, suicides, and accidental deaths than successful home defense? In fact, gun owners are generally at greater risk of becoming homicide victims themselves than people who don’t own guns.”

  Blaine nodded.

  “Yeah, I know all about that,” he said. “I’ve been doing some research. I also know about Virginia’s self-defense laws. And that this is an open-carry state.”

  Riley tilted her head with approval.

  “Well, you’re already better prepared than most people who decide to buy a gun. Even so …”

  Her words trailed off. She was reluctant to say what was on her mind.

  “What is it?” Blaine asked.

  Riley took a long, deep breath.

  “Blaine, would you want to buy a gun if I wasn’t part of your life?”

  “Oh, Riley—”

  “Tell me the truth. Please.”

  Blaine sat staring into his coffee for a moment.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” he finally said.

  Riley reached across the table and held Blaine’s hand.

  “That’s what I thought. And I’m sure you can understand how that makes me feel. I care for you a lot, Blaine. It’s terrible to know that your life is more dangerous because of me.”

  “I get that,” Blaine said. “But I want you to tell me the truth about something. And please don’t take this wrong.”

  Riley silently braced herself for whatever Blaine was about to ask her.

  “Are your feelings really a good argument against my buying a gun? I mean, isn’t it a fact that I’m in more danger than the average citizen, and that I ought to be able to defend myself and Crystal—and maybe even you?”

  Riley shrugged a little. She felt sad to admit it to herself, but Blaine was right.

  If a gun would make him feel more safe and secure, he ought to have one.

  She was also sure that he’d be as responsible as a gun owner could possibly be.

  “OK,” she said. “Let’s finish breakfast and go shopping.”

  *

  Later that morning, Blaine walked into a gun store with Riley. Right away Blaine wondered if he was making a mistake. He couldn’t guess how many fearsome weapons were on the walls and in glass cases. He’d never even fired a gun before—unless he counted the BB gun he’d had as a kid.

  What am I getting into? he thought.

  A large, bearded man in a plaid shirt was moving about among the merchandise.

  “How can I help you folks?” he asked.

  Riley said, “We’re looking for some home protection for my friend.”

  “Well, I’m sure we’ve got something here that will suit you,” the man said.

  Blaine felt awkward under the man’s gaze. He guessed that it wasn’t every day when an attractive woman brought her boyfriend in here to help him choose a weapon.

  Blaine couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. He even felt embarrassed about feeling embarrassed. He’d never thought of himself as the kind of man who felt insecure about his masculinity.

  As Blaine tried to snap himself out of his awkwardness, the gun seller eyed Riley’s own sidearm with approval.

  “That Glock Model 22 you’ve got there’s a fine piece, ma’am,” he said. “A law enforcement professional, are you?”

  Riley smiled and showed him her badge.

  The man pointed to a row of similar weapons in a glass case.

  “Well, I’ve got your Glocks right over here. Pretty good choices, if you ask me.”

  Riley looked at the weapons, then looked at Blaine, as if to ask his opinion.

  Blaine couldn’t do anything but shrug and blush. He wished he’d put the same time into researching weapons as he had into statistics and laws.

  Riley shook her head.

  “I’m not sure a semiautomatic is quite what we’re in the market for,” she said.

  The man nodded.

  “Yeah, they’re kind of complicated, especially for someone new to guns. Things can go wrong.”

  Riley nodded in agreement, adding, “Yeah, things like misfires, stovepipe jams, double feed, failure to eject.”

  The man said, “Of course, those aren’t real problems for a seasoned FBI gal like you. But for this feller, maybe a revolver is more the style you’re looking for.”

  The man escorted them to a glass case full of revolvers.

  Blaine’s eyes were drawn to some of the guns with shorter barrels.

  At least they looked less intimidating.

  “What about that one there?” he said, pointing to one.

  The man opened the case, took out the gun, and handed it to Blaine. The weapon felt strange in Blaine’s hand. He couldn’t decide whether it was heavier or lighter than he’d expected.

  “A Ruger SP101,” the man said. “Good stopping power. Not a bad choice.”

  Riley eyed the weapon doubtfully.

  “I think we’re looking for something with maybe a four-inch barrel,” she said. “Something that absorbs the recoil better.”

  The man nodded again.

  “Right. Well, I think maybe I’ve got just the thing.”

  He reached into the case and took out another larger pistol. He handed it to Riley, who examined it with approval.


  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “A Smith and Wesson 686.”

  Then she smiled at Blaine and handed him the gun.

  “What do you think?” Riley said.

  This longer weapon felt even stranger in his hand than the smaller weapon had. All he could do was smile at Riley sheepishly. She smiled back. He could see by her expression that she’d finally registered how awkward he was feeling.

  She turned to the owner and said, “I think we’ll take it. How much does it cost?”

  Blaine was stunned by the price of the weapon, but was sure that Riley knew best whether he was getting a fair deal.

  He was also rather stunned by how easy it was to make the purchase. The man asked him for two proofs of identity, and Blaine offered him his driver’s license and his voter registration card. Then Blaine filled out a short, simple form consenting to a background check. The computerized check took only a couple of minutes, and Blaine was cleared to buy his weapon.

  “What kind of ammo do you want?” the man asked as he started to ring up the sale.

  Riley said, “Give us a box of Federal Premium Low Recoil.”

  Just moments later, Blaine was a somewhat baffled gun owner.

  He stood looking down at the daunting weapon, which lay on the counter in an open plastic case, nestled in protective foam. Blaine thanked the man, shut the case, and turned to leave.

  “Wait a minute,” the man said cheerfully. “Don’t you want to try her out?”

  The man led Riley and Blaine through a door in the back of the store that opened into a startlingly large indoor shooting range. Then he left Riley and Blaine to themselves. Blaine was just as glad that nobody else was there at the moment.

  Riley pointed out the list of rules on the wall, and Blaine read them carefully. Then he shook his head uneasily.

  “Riley, I don’t mind telling you …”

  Riley chuckled a little.

  “I know. You’re a little overwhelmed. I’ll talk you through it.”

  She led him over to one of the empty booths, where he put on ear and eye protection gear. He opened the case with the pistol, careful to keep it pointed downrange before he even picked it up.

  “Do I load it?” he asked Riley.

  “Not yet. We’ll do some dry fire practice first.”

  He took the pistol into his hands, and Riley helped him find the proper position—both hands on the gun handle but with fingers clear of the cylinder, elbows and knees slightly bent, leaning slightly forward. In a few moments, Blaine found himself aiming his pistol at a vaguely human shape on a paper target about twenty-five yards downrange.

  “We’re going to practice double action first,” Riley said. “That’s when you don’t pull back the hammer with every shot, you do all the work with the trigger. That will give you a good sense of how the trigger feels. Pull the trigger back smoothly, then let it go just as smoothly.”

  Blaine practiced with the empty gun a few times. Then Riley showed him how to open the cylinder and fill it with shells.

  Blaine took up the same stance as before. He braced himself, knowing that the gun would kick a good bit, and carefully aimed at the target.

  He pulled the trigger and fired.

  The sudden backward force startled him, and the gun leaped in his hand. He lowered the gun and looked toward the target. He couldn’t see any holes in it. He fleetingly wondered how on earth anyone could hope to aim a weapon that jumped so sharply.

  “Let’s work on your breathing,” Riley said. “Breathe in slowly while you aim, then breathe out slowly, drawing back the trigger so that you fire exactly when you’ve fully exhaled. That’s when your body is most still.”

  Blaine fired again. He was surprised at how much more control he felt.

  He looked downrange and saw that he had at least hit the paper target this time.

  But as he prepared to take another shot, a memory flashed through his mind—a memory of the most terrifying moment of his life. One day when he’d still been living next door to Riley, he’d heard a terrible racket next door. He’d rushed over to Riley’s townhouse and found the front door partially open.

  A man had thrown Riley’s daughter on the floor and was attacking her.

  Blaine had rushed toward them and pulled the man off April. But the man was too strong for Blaine to subdue, and Blaine was badly beaten before he finally lost consciousness.

  It was a bitter memory, and for a moment it brought back a feeling of heart-sickening helplessness.

  But that feeling suddenly evaporated as he felt the weight of the gun in his hands.

  He breathed and fired, breathed and fired, four more times until the cylinder was empty.

  Riley pushed a button that brought the paper target up to the booth.

  “Not bad for your first time,” Riley said.

  Indeed, Blaine could see that those last four shots had at least landed within the human shape.

  But he realized that his heart was pounding, and that he was overcome with a strange blend of feelings.

  One of those feelings was fear.

  But fear of what?

  Power, Blaine realized.

  The feeling of power in his hands was staggering, like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  He felt so good that it positively scared him.

  Riley showed him how to open the cylinder and pop out the empty shells.

  “Is that enough for today?” she asked.

  “Not on your life,” Blaine said breathlessly. “I want you to teach me everything there is to know about this thing.”

  Riley stood smiling at him as he reloaded.

  He could still feel her smile as he aimed at a fresh target.

  But then he heard Riley’s cell phone ring.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When Riley’s cell phone started ringing, Blaine’s last shots were still ringing in her ears. Reluctantly, she pulled out her phone. She had hoped to have an uninterrupted morning with Blaine. When she looked at the phone she knew she was about to be disappointed. The call was from Brent Meredith.

  She’d been surprised at how much she was enjoying teaching Blaine to shoot his new pistol. Whatever Meredith wanted, Riley felt sure it was going to interrupt the best day she’d had in a long while.

  But she had no choice but to take the call.

  As usual, Meredith was brusque and to the point.

  “We’ve got a new case. We need you on it. How fast can you get to Quantico?”

  Riley suppressed a sigh. With Bill on leave, Riley had hoped to have some time off until the pain of Lucy’s death eased a little.

  No such luck, she thought.

  No doubt she would be leaving town shortly. Did she have enough time to run home and see everybody and change clothes?

  “How about an hour?” Riley asked.

  “Make it shorter. Meet me in my office. And bring your go bag.”

  Meredith ended the call without waiting for a reply.

  Blaine was standing there waiting for her. He pulled off his eye and ear protection gear and asked, “Something to do with work?”

  Riley sighed aloud.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to get to Quantico right away.”

  Blaine nodded without complaint and unloaded the gun.

  “I’ll drive you there,” he said.

  “No, I’m going to need my go bag. And that’s in my car at home. I’m afraid you need to drop me off at my place. I’m also afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  “No problem,” Blaine said, carefully putting the new weapon in its case.

  Riley gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “It sounds like I’m going to be leaving town,” she said. “I hate that. I’ve had such a wonderful time.”

  Blaine smiled and kissed her back.

  “I’ve had a wonderful time too,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ll pick up where we left off as soon as you get back.”

  As they left the shooting range and exited through the gun store, the owner called
a hearty goodbye to them.

  *

  After Blaine dropped her off at her house, Riley dashed inside to explain to everyone that she was leaving. She didn’t even have time for a change of clothes, but at least she had showered at Blaine’s house this morning. She was relieved that her family seemed unruffled by her sudden change in plans.

  They’re getting used to getting along without me, she thought. She wasn’t sure she really liked that idea, but she knew it was a necessity in a life like hers.

  Riley checked that everything she needed was in her car and then made the short drive to Quantico. When she arrived at the BAU building, she headed straight for Brent Meredith’s office. To her dismay, she encountered Jenn Roston walking in the same direction down the hall.

  Riley and Jenn made eye contact for just a fleeting moment, then they both hastened on in silence.

  Riley wondered whether Jenn felt as awkward right now as she did. Just yesterday they’d had an uncomfortable meeting, and Riley was still uncertain whether she had made a terrible mistake in giving Jenn that thumb drive.

  But Jenn probably wasn’t worried about it, Riley figured.

  After all, Jenn had had the upper hand yesterday. She’d controlled the situation brilliantly to her own advantage. Had Riley ever known anyone who had been able to manipulate her that way?

  She quickly realized—of course she had.

  That person was Shane Hatcher.

  Still walking and still facing straight ahead, the younger agent spoke quietly. “It didn’t pan out.”

  “What?” Riley asked, without breaking her own stride.

  “The financial information on the thumb drive. Hatcher used to have funds stored in those accounts. But the money has all been moved out, and the accounts are closed.”

  Riley resisted the impulse to say, “I know.”

  After all, Hatcher had said as much yesterday in his threatening text message.

  For a moment Riley didn’t know what to say. She kept walking without comment.

  Did Jenn think that Riley had double-crossed her by slipping her a phony file?

  Finally Riley said, “That file was all I’ve got. I’m not holding out on you.”