CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Riley cradled the coffee mug between her palms as she finished telling Bill about the final moments of the Atlanta case.
Even the sun spilling into their family room couldn’t dispel the images that Sarah Brooks’ confession had left in her mind.
Three murders—two completed, one attempted—all because a mother had twisted her daughter into an instrument of decades-old vengeance.
“So Sarah just... gave up?” Bill asked as he processed the story. “After all that planning, all those years of preparation, she couldn’t go through with the third murder?”
Riley nodded, setting her mug down on the table.
“When I had her in the police van afterward, she said she had failed her mother, but that part of her felt relieved. The whole time she was talking, all I could think about was what it must have been like to grow up in that house. To be a child whose only value was as a weapon in someone else’s war. ”
Bill reached out, his hand warm as it covered hers. “That got to you.”
“It did,” Riley admitted. “More than usual. The way Sarah described her childhood—her mother forcing her to memorize her grandfather’s films, punishing her for forgetting camera angles, locking her in closets...” She shook her head. “Children aren’t supposed to carry that kind of burden.”
“No, they’re not,” Bill agreed softly.
Riley stared into the depths of her coffee. “It makes me think about our girls. About the things they’ve been through, what it could be doing to them even now.”
“April and Jilly are resilient,” Bill said. “And they have something Sarah Brooks never had—people who love them for who they are, not what they can be used for.”
“I know that.” Riley’s voice caught slightly.
“But resilience has its limits. April was kidnapped. She watched me kill a man. And Jilly—God, the things that happened to her before I found her.... And now they both have to live with the knowledge that Leo Dillard is out there somewhere, fixated on our family.”
Bill’s jaw tightened at the mention of Leo’s name. He withdrew his hand, wrapping it around his own mug. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to locate him. Called in every favor. But he’s gone completely dark. No credit card activity, no cell phone pings, nothing.”
“That’s almost worse than knowing where he is,” Riley said.
“At least then we’d have something concrete to guard against. This way.
..” She gestured vaguely at the air between them.
“Every stranger on the street could be him in disguise. Every car that drives by too slowly could be him watching. Every hang-up call could be him checking to see if we’re home. ”
“We’re doing a lot to protect them,” Bill reminded her. “April has security at Jefferson Bell. I’m picking Jilly up from school every day. We’ve changed our routines, varied our schedules.”
“For how long, though?” Riley asked. “Campus security won’t maintain those extra measures indefinitely if nothing happens. The budget won’t allow it. What if his plan is simply to wait us out, knowing we can’t maintain this level of vigilance forever?”
“Then we adapt,” Bill said simply. “We find a way that keeps everyone safe without burning ourselves out.”
Riley wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that there was a sustainable solution that would protect her family while still allowing them to live something resembling normal lives. But what might someone like Leo Dillard, with his brilliant but twisted mind, be capable of?
“You’re a good mother, Riley,” Bill said, breaking into her thoughts. “April and Jilly know that. They feel secure despite everything that’s happened, because they know we’re both here for them—not just to protect them, but to love them unconditionally.”
Riley managed a small smile. “When did you get so wise about parenting?”
“I learned from watching you,” he replied, the sincerity in his eyes momentarily easing the knot of anxiety in her chest.
A comfortable silence settled between them. This is what normal feels like, Riley thought. These quiet moments of connection were outside the chaos that hounded their lives.
Bill glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should get going. Jilly’s school lets out in thirty minutes, and I want to be there early.” Leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, he added, “You should try to get some rest. You look exhausted.”
“I am,” she admitted. “I don’t think I slept more than an hour or two last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing Sarah Brooks beside that altar, the garrote wire in her hands.
” She didn’t add that in some of those half-dreaming moments, the faces had shifted—Sarah becoming Leo, the victim transforming into April or Jilly.
Bill’s expression softened with understanding. “I’ll be back with Jilly soon. Maybe having her home safe will help.”
Riley nodded, though she doubted anything would quiet her mind enough for true rest. Not while Leo lurked at the edges of their lives, his intentions unknown, his whereabouts a mystery.
***
Leo Dillard adjusted the baseball cap lower over his eyes, his fingertips brushing against the unfamiliar beard that now covered the lower half of his face.
The rental car—a forgettable gray sedan with tinted windows—was parked beneath the sprawling branches of an oak tree, affording him both shade and an unobstructed view of the main entrance to Westridge High School.
From this distance, no one would recognize him, but he could observe everything with perfect clarity.
The digital clock on the dashboard read 3:07 PM.
Twenty-three minutes until the final bell.
He shifted in his seat, reaching for the travel mug of coffee in the cupholder.
It had gone cold hours ago, but he sipped anyway, savoring the bitter taste.
Unlike lesser predators who rushed their hunt, Leo understood the value of extended observation, of learning patterns, of waiting for precisely the right moment.
He was studying the Paige family’s new security routines. Always from a distance, always in disguise, always in a different vehicle. Special Agent Bill Jeffreys is picking up Jilly from school every day at 3:30. Campus security is escorting April between classes at Jefferson Bell University.
Such predictable unpredictability, Leo thought with a small smile. Their protective measures were transparent to anyone willing to invest the time to understand them.
The school’s exterior doors swung open as a few students with early dismissal slips emerged, laughing and shoving each other as they headed toward the parking lot.
Leo’s gaze flicked over them dispassionately.
None were Jilly. He knew from previous observations that she always exited through the main doors, usually accompanied by two friends who meant nothing to him beyond their connection to his target.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He withdrew it, glancing at the screen.
A text from his landlord about a leaky faucet in the apartment he’d rented under a false identity three towns over.
He ignored it. The apartment was merely one of five temporary residences he maintained in the area, none of them traceable to his real name.
The money his grandfather had left him made such arrangements trivial.
A familiar dark SUV pulled into the school’s semicircular driveway, parking in the visitors’ zone.
Right on schedule. Bill Jeffreys stepped out, his posture alert despite the casual clothing he wore.
Even in plainclothes, the man carried himself like the federal agent he was—eyes constantly scanning, body positioned to maintain maximum situational awareness.
Leo studied him through the tinted windows of his sedan. The man was competent, Leo would grant him that. Thorough in his protective duties. But even the most vigilant guardian couldn’t maintain perfect awareness indefinitely.
The school bell rang, its distant peal carrying across the parking lot. Within moments, the doors burst open and students poured out, a river of teenagers suddenly free from the day’s constraints. Leo sat perfectly still, his breathing steady as he waited. Seven minutes. That was Jilly’s pattern.
And there she was, right on schedule. Jilly Paige emerged from the main doors flanked by two friends, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her slight frame carrying a backpack that seemed too heavy for her.
Leo’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. She was laughing at something one of her friends had said, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze constantly swept the area around her.
The girl had street instincts. She sensed danger even when she couldn’t see it.
Leo watched as Bill approached the group. Jilly’s posture relaxed slightly at the sight of him. The friends said their goodbyes, separating toward different sections of the parking lot as Bill escorted Jilly to his SUV.
Leo took another sip of cold coffee, considering the psychological impact of his staying out of sight.
He knew that biding his time would affect Riley Paige in one of two things: either eventually lull her into a false sense of security as the immediate threat seemed to recede, or—far more likely—intensify her anxiety.
The constant vigilance would wear on her.
And if her anxiety increased, it could destabilize her judgment.
Leo started the car as Bill’s SUV pulled away from the school, Jilly safely inside. He wouldn’t follow them today. He already knew their route home, knew the security measures at the house, knew the blind spots in their vigilance.
He guided the sedan out of the parking spot and onto the street, heading in the opposite direction from Bill and Jilly.
As he drove, a sense of satisfaction settled over him.
When the moment was right—and only he would know when that was—he would be ready.
And neither Riley nor her precious family would see him coming until it was too late.