CHAPTER ONE
Steam curled from Riley’s coffee mug, carrying the rich aroma that had become her morning lifeline through years of chasing monsters.
Across the table from her, Bill suppressed a yawn, shadows still beneath his eyes from working on a case that had kept him away during recent days.
Around them, the familiar morning symphony played out—April's textbook pages turning between bites of toast, Jilly's spoon clinking against her cereal bowl.
These ordinary sounds had become precious to Riley, tokens of normalcy she fought so hard to preserve.
“More eggs, Senor Bill?” Gabriela asked, hovering nearby with the still-hot pan. “You look like you need feeding up.”
Bill smiled tiredly. “Please. I haven't had a decent meal since I’ve been away.”
Riley stifled a sigh. She and Bill had gotten married earlier this month, but they’d already spent too much time apart.
“I'm glad you're back,” she said, reaching across to squeeze his hand briefly.
“Me too.” He looked around the table. “So, what have I missed? What's everyone up to this summer?”
Jilly jumped in first. “Freedom,” she declared, stabbing a piece of banana with her fork. “Months without having to think about algebra.”
“I wouldn't get too comfortable,” Riley said. “You’ve still got a hefty summer reading list from your English teacher, remember?”
Jilly rolled her eyes with all the dramatic flair of her sixteen years. “Way to ruin the moment, Mom.”
“Just keeping it real,” Riley said, hiding her smile.
Seeing Jilly act like a normal teenager—complete with eye-rolling and dramatic sighs—was something she'd once feared might never happen.
After rescuing the girl from the streets of Phoenix and the years of adjustment that followed, these mundane moments of adolescent rebellion felt like gifts.
“What about you, April?” Bill asked, turning to Riley's older daughter.
April looked up. “Summer class at night, work at the Beanery during the day. I’m going to work right after breakfast. I’m taking an Intro to Law Class on nights.”
“That's a full schedule,” Bill said.
“Tell me about it.” April closed her book. “But my advisor says if I can complete these credits over the summer, I might be able to graduate a semester early.”
After all they’d been through, Riley had secretly hoped April might choose a safer future than the FBI would offer. But her daughter had inherited more than just Riley's dark hair and hazel eyes; she'd inherited her stubborn resolve as well.
“And how's the Beanery treating you?” Riley asked. “Any more incidents with that customer who keeps sending his coffee back?”
April laughed, her face lighting up. “Oh my God, you won't believe what happened yesterday.” She leaned forward, suddenly animated.
“So, Mr. Three-Pump-Vanilla-Not-Four comes in, right?
And Darcy—she's the new girl—she's on register.
I try to warn her about him, but it's too late. He places his usual order, and she makes it exactly how he always wants it.”
“Let me guess,” Bill said, reaching for his coffee. “Still wrong?”
“Worse!” April's hands flew up expressively.
“He takes one sip and says, 'This isn't what I ordered.
' And Darcy—bless her heart—says, 'Sir, I made it exactly how you specified.
' And he says, 'Young lady, I've been ordering the same drink for six years.
I think I know what I like.' As he stalked away, I told Darcy, ‘Welcome to retail.’”
“Some people,” Gabriela muttered, shaking her head as she sat down with her own plate.
They all laughed, and Riley treasured the sound. These were the moments that made everything else worthwhile—the cases, the darkness, the monsters. These bright islands of normalcy in an ocean of chaos.
“So does your boyfriend ever come into the café?” Jilly asked casually, reaching for another piece of fruit.
The laughter at the table died abruptly. April's fork clattered against her plate, and her face drained of color. Riley looked between her daughters, confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
“What boyfriend?” Riley asked, her eyes settling on April.
“Thanks a lot, Jilly,” April hissed, pushing back from the table so quickly that her chair nearly toppled. “I told you that in confidence.”
“Uh—no, you didn’t,” Jilly said. “In fact, you said you were going to tell Mom about—”
Before Jilly could say another word, April was gone, her footsteps pounding up the stairs. The bedroom door slammed a moment later, the sound reverberating through the townhouse.
Jilly stared at her plate. “I didn't think it was a secret.”
“What boyfriend, Jilly?” Riley repeated, more gently this time.
“Some guy named Ethan,” Jilly mumbled. “She told me about him last week. I didn't think it was a big deal.”
Bill caught Riley's eye across the table, an unspoken communication. Go to her. I'll handle things down here.
“Okay,” Riley said, standing up. “I'm going to talk to April. Jilly, help Gabriela with the dishes, please.”
As she climbed the stairs, Riley mentally sorted through what she knew about April's social life—which, she realized with a pang of guilt, wasn't much lately.
Between her own cases and teaching at Quantico, she'd been less attuned to the day-to-day details of her daughters' lives than she would have liked.
She knocked softly on April's door. “April? Can I come in?”
The only response was a muffled sound that could have been “whatever” or “go away”—Riley chose to interpret it as the former. She pushed the door open slowly to find April curled on her bed, arms wrapped around her cat Marbles, who purred contentedly despite the tension in his companion’s face.
“Hey,” Riley said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
April turned her face further into Marbles' black and white fur. “It's nothing.”
“Doesn't look like anything.” Riley reached out to stroke her daughter's hair, the same way she had when April was small and woke screaming from nightmares. “Is there a boyfriend I should know about?”
“No,” April said, then amended, “I don't know. Maybe. Not anymore, probably.”
Riley waited, knowing that silence often yielded more information than questions. After a moment, April sat up, releasing Marbles, who stretched and repositioned himself at the foot of the bed with a disapproving flick of his tail.
“His name is Ethan,” April finally said. “He started coming into the Beanery lately. He'd sit by the window with his sketchbook for hours, just drawing.”
Riley kept her expression neutral, though her internal alarm bells had begun to chime softly. “How did you two start talking?”
“I asked him what he was drawing,” April said, a small smile forming despite her tears. “It turned out he was drawing me. Mom, he's really talented.”
“And this has been going on for how long?”
“About a week.” April reached for a tissue from her nightstand. “I know it's not long, but it felt... different. Like we'd known each other forever.”
Riley tried to balance parental concern with respect for her daughter's autonomy.
April was eighteen—almost nineteen—and had shown remarkable resilience and maturity after everything she'd been through.
Still, the protective instinct in Riley wanted to run a background check on this Ethan immediately.
“So, what happened? Why are you so upset?”
“He had to leave town suddenly. His grandmother in Philadelphia got sick, and she raised him. He told me he had to go take care of her, and he gave me his number. He said he'd text when he got there, but...” She shrugged helplessly. “It's been two days, and nothing.”
“And you think he's forgotten about you.”
“Or he was just being nice and never really cared in the first place.” April twisted the tissue. “It was stupid to think he was interested in me.”
“Hey,” Riley said firmly, “don't do that to yourself. From what you're saying, he seemed genuinely interested. And if his grandmother is sick, he might be dealing with a lot right now.”
“Maybe.” April didn't sound convinced.
“Have you tried texting him?”
April shook her head, looking slightly embarrassed. “I didn't want to seem desperate.”
Riley fought back a smile. “Sending one thoughtful text isn't desperate. You could just check in, ask how his grandmother is doing. Show that you care without putting any pressure on him.”
“You think so?” April asked, hope flickering across her face.
“I know so.” Riley squeezed her daughter's hand. “And if he doesn't respond, then that tells you something too. Better to know than to wonder.”
“I'll try that.”
A soft knock at the door interrupted them. Jilly stood in the doorway, her expression unusually contrite.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
Riley looked to April, who nodded.
“I'm sorry,” Jilly said immediately, stepping inside. “I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret. You never said not to tell Mom.”
April sighed. “It's okay. It's not like I swore you to secrecy or anything. I was going to tell Mom about him anyway. I'm sorry for overreacting.”
“So... are we good?” Jilly asked tentatively.
“We're good,” April confirmed, patting the bed beside her.
Jilly sat down, and Riley marveled at how quickly the girls could move past their conflicts now.
There had been a time, not so long ago, when Jilly's adjustment to their family had been much rockier, when every disagreement felt like a potential catastrophe.
The progress they'd made still amazed her.
“I'll leave you two to talk,” Riley said, standing up. “April, think about what I said, okay?”
April nodded, and Riley slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Downstairs, she found Bill and Gabriela cleaning up from breakfast. Bill had rolled up his sleeves and was elbow-deep in soapy water while Gabriela wiped down the counter.
“Everything okay up there?” Bill asked as Riley entered.
“Teen drama,” Riley said, picking up a dish towel to dry the clean plates. “Apparently April met a guy at the café. He had to go out of town to take care of his sick grandmother, and he hasn't texted her back. Cue heartbreak and sisterly betrayal.”
“Ah, the eternal 'does he like me or not' question,” Bill said. “Some things never change.”
“Tell me about it.” Riley stacked a dried plate in the cabinet. “I just hope this Ethan is on the level. April's been through enough.”
“Do you want me to run a background check?” Bill offered, only half-joking.
Riley laughed. “I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. But no—not yet, anyway. She's eighteen; she needs to make her own judgments.” She sighed. “Though I'm not sure I'm ready for her to have a boyfriend.”
“I hate to break it to you,” Bill said, draining the sink, “but it was inevitable.”
Gabriela shook her head with a knowing smile. “She’s a smart girl. She’ll make the right choices.”
“I know,” Riley admitted, leaning against the counter. “And honestly, she's handled everything life has thrown at her better than I could have hoped. She deserves some normal experiences—including dating.”
Bill dried his hands and pulled Riley into a loose embrace. “You've raised two incredible young women. Trust them—and trust yourself.”
Riley rested her head briefly on his shoulder, drawing strength from his steady presence.
“So,” she said, pulling back slightly to look at him, “now that crisis is averted, what should we do with our time off? I was thinking we could drive up to the mountains for a few days. The girls would be fine with Gabriela here.”
“Yes,” Gabriela said, waving a hand. “Take a vacation. Go!”
“That sounds perfect,” Bill said. “I can't remember the last time we had a break together.”
“I know. Between your case load and my teaching schedule—”
Her phone rang, interrupting the moment. Riley glanced at the screen and felt her stomach sink.
“It's Meredith,” she said.
“Sounds like something work-related,” Bill said, frowning.
Riley sighed and took the call.
“Agent Paige,” the BAU chief’s deep voice came through. “I need you and Agent Esmer in my office immediately. She has been notified and is waiting for you to contact her.”
“Sir, I'm supposed to be on vacation for the next two weeks. My summer classes at the Academy don't start until—”
“I know your schedule, Agent Paige,” Meredith cut in, his tone brooking no argument. “I wouldn't call if it wasn't important. This requires your... special abilities.”
Riley closed her eyes briefly. Her “special abilities”—Meredith's code for her uncanny gift of getting inside killers' heads—meant this was serious. Not just another murder, but something that had the BAU worried.
“I'll call Agent Esmer now,” she conceded. “We’ll come right to headquarters,”
“Good. I'll see you both in an hour.” Meredith ended the call.
“Let me guess,” Bill grumbled as she lowered the phone. “You're not going to get that break after all.”