Once Gone (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1)

Chapter 21

Riley struggled against traffic while trying to keep Marie on the phone. She drove through an intersection after a yellow light switched to red; she was driving dangerously and she knew it. But what else could she do? She was in her own car, not an agency vehicle, so she had no lights and siren.

"I'm hanging up, Riley," Marie said for the fifth time.

"No!" Riley barked yet again, fighting down a surge of despair. "Stay on the phone, Marie."

Marie's voice sounded weary now.

"I can't do this anymore," she said. "Save yourself if you can, but I really can't do this. I'm through with this. I'm going to stop it all right now."

Riley felt ready to explode from panic. What did Marie mean? What was she going to do?

"You can do this, Marie," Riley said.

"Goodbye, Riley."

"No!" Riley shouted. "Just wait. Wait! It's all you have to do. I'll be right there."

She was driving much faster than the flow of traffic, wending among the lanes like a madwoman. Several times, other drivers honked at her.

"Don't hang up," Riley demanded fiercely. "Do you hear me?"

Marie said nothing. But Riley could hear her sobbing and keening.

The sounds were perversely reassuring. At least Marie was still there. At least she was still on the phone. But could Riley keep her there? She knew that the poor woman was plummeting into an abyss of pure animal terror. Marie no longer had a rational thought in her head; she seemed to be almost insane with fear.

Riley's own memories swarmed into her mind. Terrible days in a beastlike state in which the world of humanity simply didn't exist. Total darkness, the feeling of the very existence of a world outside of the darkness slipping away, and a complete loss of any sense of the passage of time.

I've got to fight it, she told herself.

The memories enveloped her ...

With nothing to hear or see, Riley tried to keep her other senses engaged. She felt the sour taste of fear back in her throat, rising up in her mouth until it turned into an electrical tingling on the tip of her tongue. She scratched at the dirt floor she was sitting on, exploring its dampness. She sniffed the mold and mildew that surrounded her.

Those sensations were all that still kept her in the world of the living.

Then in the midst of the blackness, came a blinding light and the roar of Peterson's propane torch.

A sharp bump shook Riley out of her hideous reverie. It took her a second to realize that her car had struck against a curb and that she was in danger of veering into oncoming traffic. Horns blared.

Riley regained control of her car and looked around. She wasn't far from Georgetown.

"Marie," she shouted. "Are you still there?"

Again, she heard only a muffled sob. That was good. But what could Riley do now? She wavered. She could call for FBI help in D.C., but by the time she explained the problem and got agents sent to the address, God only knew what would happen. Besides, that would mean ending the call with Marie.

She had to keep her on the phone, but how?

How was she going to pull Marie out of that abyss? She had almost fallen into it herself.

Riley remembered something. Long ago, she had been trained in how to keep crisis callers on the line. She'd never had to use that training until now. She struggled to remember what she was supposed to do. Those lessons had been so long ago.