Once Stalked

What would have become of Jilly if she hadn’t stumbled across her that night?

Friends and colleagues had often told Riley what a good thing she’d done by bringing Jilly into her life.

So why didn’t she feel better about it? Instead, she felt pangs of despair.

After all, there were countless Jillys in the world, and very few of them were ever rescued from terrible lives.

Riley couldn’t help all of them, any more than she could rid the world of all vicious killers.

It’s all so futile, she thought. Everything I do.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window. The jet had left the lights of DC behind, and outside there was nothing but impenetrable darkness.

As she peered into the black night, she thought about her meeting that day with Bill, Lucy, and Meredith, and what little she knew about the upcoming case. Meredith had said that the three victims were shot from a long distance by a skilled marksman.

What did that tell her about the killer?

That killing was a sport to him?

Or that he was on some kind of sinister mission?

One thing seemed certain – the killer knew what he was doing, and he was good at it.

The case was definitely going to be a challenge.

Meanwhile, Riley’s eyelids were feeling heavy.

Maybe I can get some sleep, she thought. Again she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

*

Riley was staring at what looked like thousands of Rileys, all of them standing at odd angles toward each other, becoming smaller and finally vanishing into the distance.

She turned a little, and so did all the other Rileys.

She lifted her arm, and the others did as well.

Then she reached out, and her hand came in contact with a glass surface.

I’m in a hall of mirrors, Riley realized.

But how had she gotten here? And how was she going to get out?

She heard a voice call out …

“Riley!”

It was a woman’s voice, and somehow familiar to her.

“I’m here!” Riley called back. “Where are you?”

“I’m here too.”

Suddenly, Riley saw her.

She was standing directly in front of her, in the midst of the multitude of reflections.

She was a slight, attractive young woman, wearing a dress that looked many decades out of style.

Riley immediately knew who it was.

“Mommy!” she said in a stunned whisper.

She was surprised to hear that her own voice was now that of a little girl.

“What are you doing here?” Riley asked.

“I just came to say goodbye,” Mommy said with a smile.

Riley struggled to understand what was happening.

Then she remembered …

Mommy had been shot to death right before Riley’s eyes in a candy store when Riley was only six years old.

But here Mommy was, looking exactly the same as when Riley had last seen her alive.

“Where are you going, Mommy?” Riley asked. “Why do you have to go?”

Mommy smiled and touched the glass that stood between them.

“I’m at peace now, thanks to you. I can move on now.”

Little by little, Riley started to understand.

Not long ago, she had tracked down her mother’s killer.

He was now a pathetic old vagrant living under a bridge.

Riley had left him there, realizing that his life had been punishment enough for his terrible crime.

Riley reached out and touched the glass that separated her from Mommy’s hand.

“But you can’t go, Mommy,” she said. “I’m just a little girl.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Mommy said, her face radiant and blissful. “Just look at yourself.”

Riley looked at her own reflection in the mirror next to Mommy.