CHAPTER EIGHT
Paige rode out in Agent Marriott's car towards the address that she'd found for Adam Riker's safe house, wondering all the time if he would be there, if she would actually have found the escaped serial killer.
Wondering at the same time if she should be there, when being there potentially put her in danger.
It was obvious that Christopher could see how nervous she was as they left D.C., heading out into the countryside beyond.
"You're doing great, Paige," he said. "You handled the crime scene well, and without you, we wouldn't have a clue where to go to find Riker."
Paige appreciated the praise, but it didn't do anything to change the fact that soon, she might be coming face to face with a serial killer. One whose danger she understood probably better than anyone.
"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" Christopher suggested, and now it was clear that he was trying to take her mind off things. "Why are you working at a psychiatric institution?"
"I guess…I wanted to help people," Paige admitted. "I was feeling pretty... lost."
She didn't mention the death of her father, or the fact that she'd been the one to find him. She didn't mention her mother's new husband, or everything that had happened afterwards. Paige had gotten good at not mentioning those parts of herself. She’d worked out a long time ago that people either didn’t want to hear those parts, or they wanted to hear about them far too much.
"I didn't know what to do with my life, and I found that working with people who had made terrible mistakes, I might be able to do some good. I wanted to understand them. I thought that if I did, then I might be able to help them."
"I can see the appeal," Christopher replied. "I don't know if I'm helping anyone with my job, but I guess it makes me feel better to know that I'm waiting for the bad guys. I'm going to be a little happier when we catch this guy, though."
"I know you will," Paige replied. She still couldn't think of herself actually catching Adam. She'd leave that part of things to the professionals.
"So where are you from?" Christopher asked. "I don't think I've heard it mentioned yet."
"I'm from Virginia," Paige replied. "A small town. You wouldn't have heard of it.” Or if he had, it would be in the context of her father’s murder, and that would tell him more about her than she was comfortable giving away, just then. “What about you? Why did you get into law enforcement? What made you join the FBI and the BAU?"
She wanted to keep the conversation going. She liked Christopher, but it was much easier to talk about him than about her past.
"I guess I just wanted to help people," Christopher replied. "I thought working in law enforcement would be the best way to do that. I wasn't interested in being a lawyer, and I thought the FBI would be an interesting challenge."
"And the BAU?" Paige asked.
"I like understanding people, and I'm good at drawing people out, at getting them to talk about what really happened. These are the kinds of cases that I like."
Paige couldn't help thinking that this was true of her job, too. It wasn't exactly the same, but she liked dealing with people who were thought of as the worst of the worst, trying to get some kind of truth out of them, understanding why they did what they did. She liked getting answers where other people believed that there weren’t any to be found.
Christopher kept going. "A part of me wishes I could be a profiler, but all I’d do is ride shotgun in the car. I guess I got put on this team because I read a lot of books, and I know a little about most things. I'm a bit of a nerd when you get right down to it."
"I'd hardly say you were a nerd," Paige replied. He certainly didn't look like one. He looked more like an all-action kind of guy. The kind the BAU might send out once all the experts there had worked out exactly where to send him.
Paige was so caught up in the conversation that she didn't realize they'd arrived at the safe house until Christopher parked the car, pulling up a little way from the house in a sheltered spot. She looked up, suddenly realizing that although she knew about this place and had looked it up online, that was very different to seeing it close up.
They were outside of D.C. now, out in the country. Adam might hunt in and around the city, but his life was mostly beyond it.
The safehouse was an old farmhouse, so rickety looking that it seemed to Paige as if it might blow down the next time a storm hit it. There were a few outbuildings, including a large barn, wooden doors shut firmly against the world. They looked just as badly maintained, one smaller shed leaning over as if it were just on the verge of collapse.
Looking around, Paige saw a collection of old machine parts scattered across the yard, and empty fields beyond, leading to a small stretch of woodland, with no sign of civilization for miles. She found herself thinking that it was the kind of place where Riker could do what he wanted to someone, and no one would ever hear.
Had he ever killed anyone here? Mostly he killed his victims in their homes or offices, but that was only as far as anyone knew. He could have killed more people here without anyone knowing.
That thought brought a thrill of fear. What if he was here, watching them now? They were trying to catch him, but what would happen if they actually caught up with him? There was no denying just how dangerous Adam was, and out here, she and Christopher didn’t have any back up.
Christopher got out of the car. “Stay here,” he told her.
Paige shook her head, though. “I’m pretty sure the safest spot is right beside you.”
She definitely didn’t want to sit quietly in the car, waiting for the possibility that Adam might sneak out while Christopher was inside.