CHAPTER THREE
Silence fell over Meredith's office after Ann Marie closed the door behind her. Chief Brent Meredith sat studying the grain of his desk, his dark angular features composed, his broad frame still as stone in the morning light.
Riley just waited. She'd known Meredith long enough to recognize when something significant lurked beneath his professional demeanor, and whatever it was this time was sufficiently serious to require her young partner’s absence.
Meredith finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers directly.
“First, I want to apologize,” he said.
Riley tilted her head slightly. “For what?”
“For dragging you into this case.” He gestured toward the door through which Ann Marie had just left. “I know you're supposed to be on break from teaching. You had plans.”
Riley shrugged. The canceled getaway with Bill had stung, but she understood the demands of the job better than most. But it wasn’t like Meredith to get apologetic about such things.
What’s really bothering him? she wondered.
“It's fine, Chief. You don't need to apologize.”
“I wouldn't have called you in if I didn't think your particular skills were needed,” Meredith continued.
“These abductions—there's something about them that feels...
orchestrated. Deliberate in a way that suggests we're dealing with someone who wants to be understood, but only on their own terms. It's the kind of mind that operates in odd ways that some agents just can't get a fix on.”
“My particular skills,” Riley repeated. They both knew what he meant—her ability to immerse herself in a killer's mind, to see the world through their distorted lens. It had helped solve cases that might otherwise have remained unsolved.
“We both know you're one of the best at getting inside these people's heads,” Meredith said simply.
“And we both know that's not always a good thing.”
Meredith nodded, acknowledging the double-edged nature of Riley's gift. “How's the teaching going?” he asked, shifting topics with the smoothness of someone who had navigated countless difficult conversations.
Riley settled back in her chair. “I like it.
The students are bright, eager. Most of them, anyway.
It's different from fieldwork. More structured. Safer.” Then she thought of Leo Dillard, a student whose obsession with her had spun into something dangerous last year, threatening her family. “Usually safer,” she corrected herself.
“But?” Meredith prompted, reading her tone accurately.
“But even so, I do sometimes miss being in the field full-time. The immediacy of it. The sense that every hour matters.”
“Think you might want to go back to that? Give up teaching, I mean?”
Riley swallowed hard. It wasn’t a question she felt at all ready to answer, not even to herself.
“I—I don’t know, sir.”
“Well, you’ve been missed around here, I can tell you that. We’d be grateful to have you back full time. And I wouldn’t have to keep yanking you away from teaching.”
Meredith studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he asked a question that caught her entirely off guard.
“What about retiring, Riley?”
Retiring? She was only in her early forties. Retirement wasn’t mandatory until age 57, and she’d never seriously entertained the thought of taking an early-out based on years of service. Even that option wouldn’t offer full benefits yet.
“I... no,” she said, unable to hide her surprise. “Is there something I should know, Chief?”
Meredith held up a hand. “Nothing like that.
You're valued here—you know that. The Bureau would keep you even if you were hobbling around with a cane if you wanted to stay.” He paused.
“But after everything you've been through, especially in the last year with Dillard... Sometimes I wonder if you might want a different life. I mean, away from law enforcement altogether.”
Riley felt a tangle of emotions—confusion, defensiveness, and beneath that, a whisper of temptation. A life without searching through a killers' mind. No more choosing between family and duty. No more nightmares that left her gasping in the dark.
“I haven't given it any thought,” she said finally, which was mostly true.
There had been moments—usually after particularly harrowing cases, or when April or Jilly needed her and she couldn't be there, or when her work had put them in immediate danger—when she'd wondered what it might be like to walk away.
But those had been fleeting thoughts, never serious consideration.
Meredith seemed satisfied with her answer. “Well, if you ever do think about it, let me know. The Bureau has programs, transitions. You've earned whatever path you choose.”
Riley studied the man across from her, sensing there was more to this conversation than career planning. Meredith wasn't one for idle chats, especially not in the middle of a new case.
“Chief,” she said carefully, “I don't think you asked Ann Marie to leave so you could discuss my retirement plans.”
“No,” he admitted with a hint of a smile. “That's not the only reason.”
He leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk. “Riley, I need to caution you about something. These coded messages left at both abduction sites—I know they've caught your attention. You've already mentioned the similarities to your earlier case.”
Last summer, a killer had murdered three mathematics educators, continuing a revenge campaign his mother had begun twenty years earlier. He'd left behind what appeared to be ordinary algebra quizzes pinned to his victims—problems that, when solved, revealed the coordinates where bodies were buried.
“The format is different,” Riley said, “but the underlying concept seems similar. Mathematical puzzles that might lead to locations.”
“That's what concerns me,” Meredith said, his voice dropping slightly. “I don't want you going down any rabbit holes on this one.”
Riley felt a flicker of defensiveness. “By 'rabbit holes,' you mean...?”
“I mean making connections that might not exist. Seeing patterns where there are only coincidences.”
Riley shifted in her chair. “With respect, Chief, I’m not sure we should ignore the similarities. Two separate killers using codes that potentially reveal locations? That's not exactly common.”
“I understand that,” Meredith said patiently. “And I'm not saying there's definitely no connection. All I'm saying is that I don't want you getting fixated on one angle to the exclusion of others.”
“But what if there is a connection, though? What if our current unsub has some link to Timothy Lancaster that we don't know about yet?”
Meredith's expression remained neutral, but Riley could sense his wariness.
“And even if there’s not a connection,” she continued, “Lancaster's been a model prisoner, by all accounts. What if we consulted with him? He might be able to help us crack these new codes. He might even have insight into who could be behind the abductions.”
The moment the suggestion left her lips, Riley saw Meredith's posture stiffen. His eyes darkened, and he shook his head once, firmly.
“That,” he said, “is exactly the kind of rabbit hole I'm talking about.”
“But—”
“Riley,” Meredith cut her off, his tone unusually sharp.
“Lancaster killed your high school teacher—someone you admired, someone whose death hit you hard. I’m still not sure whether I should have let you work on that case.
And now I won't have you putting yourself in a position where you're vulnerable to manipulation by the man who murdered her.”
Riley felt heat rise to her face. “I'm not suggesting we let him manipulate anything. Just that we use his expertise on a consultation basis—”
“The way you used Shane Hatcher?” Meredith asked quietly.
Riley felt her breath catch in her throat.
Shane Hatcher—alternately her nemesis and ally in early cases, a man whose intelligence had made him a recognized expert in criminology even from behind bars.
She had sought his advice when he was in Sing Sing, maintained a secret connection with him even after his escape.
That relationship had taken her into dark territory, nearly costing her career when she'd bent BAU rules to the breaking point.
“That was different,” Riley said, but her voice lacked conviction. “That was nine years ago.”
“And yet,” Meredith said, “the pattern feels eerily familiar. You being drawn to engage with someone dangerous because of their unique insight. Convinced you can control the narrative.”
Riley stared at him, stunned that he'd bring up Hatcher after all this time. She'd thought that chapter of her professional life was firmly closed.
“You're a brilliant agent, Riley,” Meredith continued, his tone softening slightly. “One of the best I've ever worked with. But you have blind spots, like we all do. And one of yours is believing that you can dance with the devil and not get burned.”
The office fell silent again. Riley felt the truth in Meredith's words, even as she resisted them. She remembered the slow, insidious way Hatcher had gotten into her head, how she'd justified each step deeper into that relationship. And how close she'd come to losing everything because of it.
“I've learned from my mistakes,” she said finally.
“I know you have,” Meredith replied. “That's why I'm asking you to recognize this potential mistake before you make it. Leave the decoding to the cryptography team. And I can have someone else interview Lancaster. I want you to focus on the victimology, the connections between the abductees. Do what you do best without putting yourself in unnecessary danger.”
Riley took a deep breath. “Understood.”
“Do I have your word that you won't reach out to Lancaster?”
Riley hesitated for only a moment. “You have my word.”
Meredith studied her face, seeming to assess her sincerity. Whatever he saw there must have satisfied him.
“Good,” he said. “Now get out there and find these people before it's too late.”
Riley rose from her chair, recognizing the dismissal. As she turned toward the door, Meredith added, “And Riley? I meant what I said about retirement. Not now, maybe not for years. But when the time comes, I hope you'll recognize it before someone has to tell you.”
She nodded without turning around, then left the office, her mind already spinning with the implications of their conversation. Ann Marie was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She straightened when she saw Riley.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her blue eyes curious.
“Fine,” Riley said, walking past her toward the elevator. “Just some administrative stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” Ann Marie said, falling into step beside her. Her tone made it clear she didn't believe Riley's explanation. “Nothing I should know about?”
Riley glanced at her young partner, struck again by how perceptive Ann Marie could be despite her relative inexperience. Or maybe because of it—she hadn't yet learned to ignore her instincts in favor of protocol.
“Nothing case-related,” Riley said, which wasn't exactly a lie. “Come on, we should head out. I want to review the files on both victims again before we meet with the cryptography team.”
They made their way through the building and out to the parking area where their Bureau sedan waited.
As Riley slid into the driver's seat, she found herself still dwelling on Meredith's warning.
She understood his concern—she knew all too well how dangerous it could be to engage with a killer, even though the barriers of prison walls and supervision.
The Timothy Lancaster case had been deeply personal for her, and Meredith was right to be wary of her objectivity.
And yet...
If Lancaster's mathematical puzzles were indeed similar to these new codes, wasn't he the most logical person to consult? Wouldn't failing to use every available resource be its own kind of mistake?
Riley started the car, aware of Ann Marie watching her with quiet curiosity. She wouldn't break her word to Meredith—she'd learned that lesson the hard way with Hatcher. But she couldn't help feeling that his restriction might hobble their investigation at a time when two lives hung in the balance.
Rabbit holes were real; she knew that better than most. But sometimes, what looked like a rabbit hole from the outside was actually an excellent way to cut through confusion and get straight to the facts of the matter.