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their achievement and brought the ceremony to an end. The students got up from their seats and eagerly sought out their friends.
Riley quickly located John and Frankie, who were glowing with pride as they clutched their new badges.
“We did it!” John said, hugging Riley.
“We’re FBI agents for real!” Frankie said, hugging Riley in turn.
“We sure are,” Riley said.
Frankie added, “And best of all, we’ll all be working at the DC Headquarters. We can stick together!”
“Won’t that be great!” Riley agreed.
She took a deep breath. After that rough summer, everything was working out just fine. Better even than she had imagined.
She glanced around for Ryan and saw him moving through the crowd toward her.
He’d made it here after all, and he had a pleasant smile on his face.
“Congratulations, sweetie,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
“Thanks,” Riley said, kissing him back.
Taking Riley’s hand, Ryan said, “And now we can go home.”
Riley smiled and nodded. Yes, that was one really great thing about today. During all her weeks in the Academy, she’d had to live in the dorm while Ryan had stayed in their DC apartment. They hadn’t spent nearly as much time together as either of them had wanted.
Her assignment to the DC FBI Headquarters meant that she’d be working just a short subway ride from their apartment. They could settle down to life together, and maybe decide soon just when they planned to get married.
But before Ryan and Riley could walk away, John called out to her.
“Wait a minute, Riley. We’ve got one more bit of business to take care of.”
Riley’s eyes widened as she remembered …
Yes, there’s one more thing to do.
She and her friends went outside into the cold winter air, where the new agents were all lining up and heading across the quad toward the FBI gun vault. Riley and her two friends hurried to join the line, while Ryan followed along with them.
Riley noticed that Ryan looked rather perplexed.
He doesn’t realize what’s going on here, she thought.
There was no time to discuss this right now. Riley and her friends were approaching the quartermaster.
As they reached him, the man handed each of them a service weapon—a 22-caliber Glock pistol.
Ryan’s mouth gaped with surprise—and also some alarm, Riley felt pretty sure.
He’ll just have to get used to my having a firearm, she thought.
Riley smiled at him and said, “OK, we can go home now.”
She was relieved that he made no comment about the lethal weapon she was carrying as they said goodbye to her friends and headed back across the quad.
Everything is going to be all right, she thought.
That was when a young man approached her holding an envelope.
“Are you Riley Sweeney?” the young man asked.
“Yes,” Riley said.
The young man handed her the envelope and said, “I’m supposed to give you this. You’ve got to sign for it.”
Riley signed for the envelope, then hastily pulled it open.
She staggered back a few steps at what she read.
“What is it?” Ryan asked.
She gulped hard and told him, “It’s a change of assignment.”
“What does that mean?” he demanded.
“I won’t be working at DC Bureau Headquarters after all. I’m assigned to the Behavioral Analysis Unit right here in Quantico.”
Ryan stammered, “But—but you said … we’re supposed to be living together.”
“We will be,” Riley hastened to assure him. “After all, it’s not that long a commute.”
Even so, she knew that the change was definitely going to complicate their lives. This wasn’t going to make it impossible for them to be together, but it wasn’t going to be easy.
Ryan snapped, “Well, you can’t do that. They’ll have to change it.”
“I can’t make them change anything,” Riley replied. “I’m just an underling here, like you are in the law office.”
Ryan was silent for a long moment, then he grumbled, “Whose idea was this, anyway?”
Riley thought about that. She’d had hadn’t even listed Quantico among her three assignment choices. Who would have intervened to place her here?
Then she realized with a sigh …
I’ve got a pretty good idea.
CHAPTER TWO
Special Agent Jake Crivaro stared discontentedly at his scrambled eggs.
I should have gone to that graduation, he thought.
He was sitting in the commissary of the BAU building in Quantico, thinking about Riley Sweeney, his young protégé. Her graduation from the FBI Academy had been two days ago, and he was feeling bad about having skipped it.
Of course, he’d made an excuse for himself—too much paperwork piled up on his desk. But the truth was, he hated those kinds of ceremonies, and he just hadn’t been able to muster up the will to go and sit there in the crowd and listen to speeches he’d heard in so many variations before.
If he had gone, he could have taken the opportunity to tell her face-to-face that he’d personally arranged for her transfer from DC to the Behavioral Analysis Unit here in Quantico.
Instead, he’d let a messenger do that job.
But surely she’d taken the BAU transfer to be good news. After all, her unique talents would be put to much better use here than they would have been in DC.
Then it occurred to Jake that Riley might not even know yet that he’d had her assigned to be his own partner.
He hoped she’d find it a nice surprise to learn that they’d be working together. They’d already made a good team on three pretty tough cases. The youngster could be erratic at times, but she always managed to surprise him with the unusual power of her insight.
I should have at least called her, he reprimanded himself.
Jake looked at his watch and realized that Riley must be on her way here right now, to report for her first day at work.
As he took a sip of coffee, his cell phone rang.
When he took the call, a voice said, “Hey, Jake. Harry Carnes here. Am I catching you at an OK time?”
Jake grinned at the sound of his old friend’s voice. Harry was a retired police detective from Los Angeles. Several years ago, they’d worked together on a celebrity kidnapping case. They’d hit it off well and had stayed in touch.
“Sure, Harry,” Jake said. “It’s great to hear from you. What’s up?”
He heard Harry sigh, then say, “I’ve got something bothering me. I was hoping you might be able to help me out.”
Jake felt a surge of concern.
“I’d be glad to, buddy,” he said. “What’s the problem?”
“Do you remember that Colorado murder case last year? The woman who got killed in Dyson Park?”
Jake was surprised to hear Harry bring it up. When Harry had retired from the LA police force, he and his wife, Jillian, had moved to Gladwin, a tiny town in the Rocky Mountains right next to Dyson Park. A young woman’s