CHAPTER TWO
As Riley turned into the parking lot for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico, the familiar landscape did nothing to settle her thoughts.
The image of April’s face on the video call—shifting from casual excitement to dawning horror as she realized who Leo Dillard really was—kept replaying in her mind.
She’d left home in such a rush that she’d only swallowed half a cup of coffee and one pancake that she’d grabbed on the way out.
She hoped that Jilly and Gabriela would make good use of the rest that she’d left sitting under their cover on the dining room table.
She pulled into her usual parking spot, cut the engine, and sat for a moment in the silence. The bright September sun seemed at odds with the darkness of her thoughts.
“Damn it,” she whispered, rubbing her temples.
As she reached for her bag on the passenger seat, a flash of movement caught her eye.
Ann Marie Esmer was just pulling into the slot beside her, her small blue sedan gleaming under the late morning sun.
The young agent spotted Riley and waved with characteristic enthusiasm, a gesture that seemed almost comically out of place against Riley’s current mood.
Riley stepped out of her car, forcing her thoughts away from April and back to the present moment. She needed to compartmentalize—a skill that had served her well throughout her career but was proving unusually difficult today.
“Agent Paige!” Ann Marie called as she emerged from her car, somehow managing to simultaneously grab her laptop bag, straighten her immaculately pressed blazer, and lock her vehicle with a beep of her key fob. “Can you believe Meredith called us in on a Saturday? Must be something big.”
Her blue eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. Despite having worked several cases now, Ann Marie still approached each new assignment with the eagerness of a rookie on her first day. Today, she wore her blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.
“Something big enough to interrupt family time,” Riley agreed, her tone flatter than she’d intended.
Ann Marie’s expression shifted immediately. “Everything okay? You seem... distracted.”
Riley hesitated, then decided there was no point in pretending. “It’s April. There’s a situation at Jefferson Bell.”
They fell into step together, walking toward the BAU building.
The grounds were quieter than on weekdays, but even on weekends, Quantico never truly slept.
A group of academy trainees jogged past in formation, their synchronized footfalls providing a steady rhythm that punctuated their conversation.
“What kind of situation?” Ann Marie asked, her voice dropping to match Riley’s serious tone.
“Remember Leo Dillard?”
Ann Marie’s step faltered. “The student who was stalking you recently?”
Riley nodded grimly. “Turns out he’s been hanging around April at Jefferson Bell. Approached her, befriended her. She had no idea who he was until our video call this morning.”
“Oh my God,” Ann Marie breathed, all excitement about the new case momentarily forgotten. “That’s... that’s terrifying. What are you going to do?”
“Bill’s heading there tomorrow. He’s going to check in with campus security, make sure they’re aware of the situation.
” Riley pushed through the glass doors of the building, the rush of cool air from the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her arms. “But I can’t shake this feeling that I should be the one going there. Not flying off to Atlanta for a case.”
They badged through security and headed for the elevator. Ann Marie pressed the button for the fourth floor, where Meredith’s office was located.
“If there’s anything I can do to help...” Ann Marie offered.
Riley gave her a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks. For now, let’s just see what Meredith has for us. He was insistent that I take this one on.”
The elevator doors opened with a soft ping, revealing the familiar corridor that led to the BAU offices.
As they walked, Riley tried to focus on the task ahead, pushing thoughts of April to a compartment in her mind that she could revisit later.
But the image of Leo Dillard—his intense eyes, the way he had leaned too close during office hours, the uncomfortable questions about her personal life—kept bleeding through.
Meredith’s office door stood open, the African-American man himself visible behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear. He gestured for them to enter when he spotted them, his conversation continuing as they took seats across from him.
Riley studied her superior’s face, noting the deep lines around his eyes. Brent Meredith cut a daunting presence even when seated—his broad frame and his perpetually serious expression a reminder of why he’d risen to Special Agent in Charge of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.
“Yes, I understand the sensitivity. I’ve got my best team on it.” He said into the phone. “They’re heading out within the hour. We’ll coordinate directly with Atlanta PD.” A pause. “Yes, I’ll keep you updated.” He hung up with a weary sigh.
“This high-profile case has everyone jumpy,” he said by way of greeting.
“What are we looking at?” Riley asked, forcing herself to engage despite the distraction of her personal concerns.
Meredith slid a file across the desk. “Veronica Slate was murdered last night at Magnolia Gateway Films studio in Atlanta. Poisoned, specifically.”
Riley’s eyes widened slightly as she recognized the name. “The actress? Roberta Rimes’ daughter?”
“The same,” Meredith confirmed. “But it’s the method that’s concerning us. The murder was staged as a re-creation of a scene from her mother’s breakout film, The Night Walker.”
Ann Marie leaned forward. “Where Roberta Rimes’ character is poisoned while singing at a nightclub?”
Riley and Meredith both turned to look at her with mild surprise.
“What?” Ann Marie said with a small shrug. “I went through a classic noir phase in college. That film’s iconic.”
“She’s right,” Riley said, opening the file.
Crime scene photos revealed an elaborate set designed to look exactly like the fictional “Midnight Lounge” from the 1954 film.
Veronica Slate’s body lay sprawled on the checkered floor, her face frozen in a rictus of pain.
“It looks like they recreated the entire set from the film for some kind of retrospective event.”
“Precisely,” Meredith said. “Magnolia Gateway Films was hosting a weeklong celebration of Roberta Rimes’ work, culminating on what would have been her hundredth birthday.
Veronica Slate was the guest of honor. After a screening of The Night Walker, the guests were invited to this replica of the nightclub set where Rimes’ character was murdered. ”
“And then history repeated itself,” Riley murmured, flipping through more photos. “Strychnine?”
“Preliminary tox screen suggests so,” Meredith confirmed. “Just like in the film.”
“This is no ordinary homicide,” Ann Marie observed.
“Which is why Detective Marcus Hayes of Atlanta PD reached out to us,” Meredith interjected. “This has all the markings of a highly organized killer with possible obsessive tendencies toward film or Roberta Rimes specifically. And given the public nature of the murder—”
“There were witnesses,” Riley concluded, studying a photo showing elegant partygoers standing in shocked clusters around the perimeter of the crime scene. “How many?”
“About thirty,” Meredith said. “All film industry people, critics, or special invitees to the retrospective. The murder happened in full view of everyone present, yet somehow the poison was administered without anyone noticing.”
“And the media?” Ann Marie asked.
Meredith’s expression darkened. “Already a circus. Veronica Slate was Hollywood royalty, and the theatrical nature of the murder has every entertainment reporter in the country descending on Atlanta. Hayes is overwhelmed, and the mayor’s office is panicking about the publicity.”
Riley closed the file. This was exactly the type of complex, high-profile case that demanded her full attention—the type of case she’d built her career on solving. And yet, all she could think about was April, alone on a college campus with Leo Dillard possibly lurking nearby.
“Sir,” she began, “about the timing of this assignment—”
Meredith held up a hand. “Before you continue, Paige, let me be clear. I need you on this case. You have the experience with obsessive perpetrators and the skills to navigate the media attention.”
“I understand that,” Riley said, leaning forward in her chair. “But there’s a situation with my daughter that I need to address first.”
She explained about Leo Dillard’s appearance at Jefferson Bell, watching Meredith’s expression shift from impatience to concern as she detailed the morning’s discovery.
“I filed the report when he became inappropriate with me last semester,” Riley concluded. “But I never imagined he’d target April. Bill’s cutting his Nashville case short to check on her tomorrow, but honestly, I’d feel better handling this personally.”
Meredith was silent for a moment. The only sound in the office was the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant ringing of a phone somewhere down the hallway.
“You told me about that Dillard business when it happened,” he finally said. “He disappeared from the program soon after he was called out on it, right?”
“That’s right.”
Meredith sighed, a rare glimpse of the man behind the title. “As a father myself, I understand your concern, Agent Paige. But I also know Bill Jeffreys. If he says he’ll handle it, he will.”
Riley felt a flicker of frustration. “With all due respect, sir—”
“Agent Paige,” Meredith cut in, his tone gentler than his words, “the Atlanta situation needs your specific expertise. There are twenty witnesses who saw a woman die horribly, and a killer who’s demonstrated both planning skills and theatrical flair. That combination rarely stops at one victim.”
The implication was clear. If this was indeed the work of a serial killer just beginning their spree, every hour mattered.
“Trust Bill on this,” Meredith continued. “He’ll coordinate with campus security, review surveillance footage, and do everything necessary to ensure April’s safety. Meanwhile, I need you and Agent Esmer on that plane to Atlanta. Detective Hayes is expecting you.”
Riley knew when she was beaten. More importantly, she knew Meredith was right—professionally, at least. She nodded reluctantly.
“The jet’s fueled and waiting,” Meredith said, standing to signal the end of the briefing. “You’ll be met at Hartsfield-Jackson. I’ve arranged for a car and hotel accommodations near the studio.”
Riley and Ann Marie rose as well, gathering their materials. As they turned to leave, Meredith added, “And Paige? Keep me updated on both situations. If anything changes with April, we’ll reassess.”
The small concession was enough to make Riley nod gratefully before following Ann Marie out of the office.
They walked in silence toward the elevator, the weight of the new assignment settling over them. When the doors closed, sealing them in momentary privacy, Ann Marie turned to Riley.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think you’re amazing for being able to focus on work at all right now. If it were my family...” She trailed off, shaking her head.
Riley appreciated the younger agent’s empathy, even as she wondered if Ann Marie’s assessment was accurate. Was she really focusing? Or was she going through the motions while her mind remained fixed on the danger potentially stalking her daughter?
“Bill will handle it,” Riley said, as much to convince herself as to respond to Ann Marie. “He’s very good at what he does.”
They left the building and headed toward the small airstrip where the BAU jet waited.
“I’m really looking forward to working this case with you,” Ann Marie said as they walked, her natural enthusiasm resurfacing. “The theatrical aspects, the historical connection—it’s fascinating. Terrible, obviously,” she added quickly, “but fascinating from an investigative standpoint.”
Riley nodded absently, her thoughts still divided. Ann Marie, perceptive as always, picked up on her distraction.
“April’s going to be okay,” she said softly. “And I know you’re worried about more than just that.”
Riley glanced at her, surprised by the insight.
“I made a mistake during our last case,” she admitted, echoing words she’d spoken to Bill months ago.
“A big one. I let my instincts fail me, and it almost cost someone their life. I suspected the wrong person because I didn’t like her, while completely missing the real killer because she seemed kind and traumatized. ”
“We all make mistakes,” Ann Marie offered.
“That’s what Bill said too,” Riley replied with a small, rueful smile. “But it wasn’t like me, at least, not like the agent I used to be. And now I’m heading into another high-profile case while distracted by personal concerns. Not exactly a recipe for success.”
“Or maybe,” Ann Marie suggested gently, “being aware of your potential blind spots makes you more careful, more thorough. That’s not weakness, Agent Paige. That’s growth.”
Riley looked at her younger colleague with new appreciation. Behind Ann Marie’s eager exterior and occasional social awkwardness lay a surprising depth of insight.
As they reached the steps of the waiting jet, Riley paused, taking one last look at the Quantico grounds—the place where she taught, where she had confronted Leo Dillard, where she was supposed to be the expert. The expert who now felt anything but certain.
As she climbed the steps, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Bill: “On my way to Jefferson Bell. April will be okay. We both will make sure of it.”
A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
“Come on,” Riley said to Ann Marie. “Let’s go catch a killer.”