CHAPTER TWO
The world around Riley seemed to blur at the edges, details fading except for the essential task in her mind: get to Jilly. Without taking time for additional explanation, she and Bill both got to their feet and headed for Meredith’s office door.
“My team will meet you there,” Hogue said.
Meredith’s voice followed them into the hallway. “We’ll find her, Paige. We’ll find them both.”
“He won’t hurt her yet,” Riley told Bill as they hurried through the building toward the parking lot. “He wants me to suffer first.”
When they reached their car, Bill extended his hand, “Keys. I’m driving.”
“I can drive,” Riley insisted, but her hands were trembling, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Not this time.” Bill’s voice was firm. “Get in.”
She relented, sliding into the passenger seat. “I need to call Ann Marie,” she said, pulling out her phone as they left Quantico. “And April. God, April—”
“One thing at a time,” Bill said, his eyes fixed on the road as he drove out of the BAU lot. “Call April first.”
Riley dialed April’s number. It seemed to ring much longer than usual. “Mom?” April finally answered, sounding carefree. “What’s up?”
Riley closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself. “April, listen to me very carefully. I need you to go back to your dorm room right now and stay there.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Leo Dillard has taken Jilly.” Riley forced herself to say the words clearly. “The police are at the house, and Bill and I are on our way there now.”
A soft gasp echoed through the line. “Oh my God. How? When?”
“I don’t know all the details yet. Bill will come to campus as soon as he can to bring you home.” Riley glanced at Bill, who nodded in understanding.
“I should be there now,” April protested, her voice rising in pitch. “I should—”
“No,” Riley said firmly. “The best way you can help right now is to stay safe. Please, April. I can’t worry about both of you.”
A moment of silence, then: “Okay. I’m heading back to my room now. Text me when you know more?”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom. And... we’ll find her, right?”
The hope in April’s voice nearly broke Riley. “Yes. We will.”
As Bill accelerated onto the highway, his eyes fixed on the road, Riley found the number for her young partner, Ann Marie Esmer, and pressed the call button.
Ann Marie’s cheerful voice answered, “Agent Paige! I was just about to—”
“Ann Marie,” Riley cut in, her voice strained. “Leo Dillard has taken Jilly.”
A sharp intake of breath was followed by professional focus. “When? Do we know anything yet?”
“Just happened. Gabriela called me. He came to the house while Jilly was there alone with her.” Riley’s throat constricted around the words. “I’m on my way there now with Bill.”
“What can I do?”
Riley appreciated the young agent’s readiness. In the year since Ann Marie had joined the BAU, Riley had watched her grow from an enthusiastic rookie into a capable agent who could be trusted in a crisis.
“Stand by for now. I’ll know more when we get to the house. But I might need your help later.”
“I’ll be ready,” Ann Marie promised. “And Riley... we’ll find her.”
As she ended the call, Riley stared out at the highway passing in a blur.
Bill was pushing the sedan well above the speed limit, lights flashing silently.
Unbidden, her mind drifted back to mid-August, to her first real confrontation with Leo Dillard.
She’d noticed him watching her during class, his attention more focused than the other trainees.
At first, she’d thought it was simply academic interest—some students were naturally more engaged than others.
But then came the day after a lecture when he’d lingered behind while the others filed out.
“Professor Paige,” he’d said. “I was hoping to discuss your methods further. Perhaps over dinner?”
Riley had declined politely, explaining her policy against socializing with students.
When he moved closer, she insisted that he step away from her and leave.
It was only later when he’d approached her in her office and even tried to kiss her that Riley had reported his behavior to the Academy.
That had resulted in Leo’s dismissal, but hadn’t removed him from her life.
“I should have seen it,” Riley muttered.
Bill’s glance was sharp. “Seen what?”
“The warning signs with Leo. That first time he approached me—it wasn’t just inappropriate. It was... calculated.”
“Riley, don’t do this to yourself,” Bill said firmly. “There’s no way you could have predicted this.”
Riley fell silent, unable to argue but unwilling to accept absolution.
She’d never expected Leo’s obsession with her to consume her family like this.
The thought of Jilly—brave, resilient Jilly, who’d already endured so much in her young life—in the hands of a man like him made her feel physically ill.
They arrived at Riley’s house twenty minutes after leaving Quantico, tires screeching on the pavement as Bill pulled into the parking area. Three police cruisers were parked at odd angles in front of her townhouse, their lights still flashing. Officers were moving in and out of her front door.
Riley was out of the car before Bill had fully stopped, her FBI credentials already in her hand as she approached the nearest officer. “Special Agent Riley Paige. I live here. Where’s the officer in charge?”
The young officer pointed toward the house. “Inside, ma’am. Officer Cornelson is coordinating.”
Riley moved quickly up the steps to the front door, Bill at her heels. Inside, a tall, broad-shouldered officer with thick sandy hair approached them.
“Agent Paige? Officer Glenn Cornelson. We responded to your housekeeper’s 911 call.”
Riley shook his hand mechanically. “What do we know so far?”
Cornelson gestured toward the back of the house.
“Security system was bypassed somehow. We’ve got a specialist looking at it now.
According to your housekeeper, the perpetrator entered through the back door around 3:30 PM.
She was downstairs in her apartment when she heard your daughter scream her name.
By the time she got upstairs, the man had tased your daughter and subdued her, maybe with chloroform. She couldn’t stop him.”
“Gabriela,” Riley said. “Where is she?”
“In her apartment. She’s pretty shaken up. Said she had her gun on him, but he was using the girl as a shield. She told me his name was Leo Dillard, and she said he posed a threat your family.”
Riley flinched at the thought of Jilly being used as a human barrier. “Did he say anything?”
Cornelson’s expression grew grave. “He told Ms. Gonzales that he was counting on you coming after him.”
“That means he’s escalating.”
From the back of the house, a man in plain clothes emerged carrying a computer tablet. Riley recognized Jay Mathers, a digital forensics specialist with the Fredericksburg Police Department who sometimes worked with the FBI. He was a good man to have on the job.
“Agent Paige,” Mathers said grimly. “I’ve been examining your security system. Someone hacked the back door remotely—bypassed all the safeguards without triggering any alerts.” He shook his head. “Incredible skill. Not many could break into this system.”
The front door opened, and Riley turned to see Garner Hogue entering. The sight of him—competent, thorough, by-the-book Hogue—triggered a surge of irrational anger in Riley.
“Took you long enough,” she snapped, knowing even as the words left her mouth that they were unfair.
Hogue absorbed the barb without flinching. “My team is mobilizing resources across the eastern seaboard. We’ll find her, Paige.”
Riley looked away. “I need to talk to Gabriela,” she muttered, brushing past Hogue toward the stairs that led to Gabriela’s downstairs apartment.
*
Bill watched Riley disappear down the stairs to Gabriela’s apartment.
In their years working together, he’d seen her face down serial killers without flinching, but this—having her family targeted—was different.
This cut to the bone. He turned back to Garner Hogue, whose expression remained professionally neutral despite Riley’s harsh words.
“She didn’t mean that,” Bill said quietly. “You know how it is when it’s personal.”
“No apology necessary. If someone had taken my child, I wouldn’t be talking at all—I’d be tearing the world apart with my bare hands.”
The simple honesty in Hogue’s voice reminded Bill why he’d always respected the man. Hogue was thorough, meticulous, and careful about rules—qualities that sometimes clashed with Riley’s more intuitive approach. But he was also fundamentally decent.
“What do we have so far?” Bill asked, shifting to the practical matters at hand.
“Not enough,” Hogue admitted. “My team members Gleason and Jenson should be arriving any minute with additional equipment. We’ll set up a command center here, if that works for you and Paige.”
“It’s what Riley would want,” Bill confirmed. “The closer to home, the better.”
As if on cue, the front door opened, admitting two more agents. Bill recognized Siobhan Gleason, a sharp-featured woman with auburn hair pulled back in a severe bun, and Clark Jenson, a stocky man whose rumpled appearance belied his razor-sharp analytical mind. Both carried equipment cases.
“We’ve got the satellite uplink and additional monitoring equipment,” Gleason reported to Hogue, then nodded to Bill. “Agent Jeffreys.”
“Set them up in the dining room,” Hogue instructed. “I want every traffic camera, ATM, and storefront security system within fifty miles monitored in real-time. And I want facial recognition running on all of them.”
“Already in progress,” Jenson assured him. “We’ve got the system scanning feeds while we were en route.”
As the agents moved to establish their makeshift command center, Jay Mathers approached Bill, tablet in hand. The digital forensics specialist’s normally animated face was drawn with concern.
“So the back door was hacked,” Bill said. “How much skill would that take?”
“This is a professional-grade intrusion,” Mathers said. “Military or intelligence community level hacking skills.”
“I want to see the security footage,” Bill said.
“I was about to review it when you arrived.”
Bill joined Mathers in the alcove where he himself had set up a security monitor weeks ago. The screens flickered, then displayed a time-stamped feed from that afternoon. Bill leaned forward, his hands gripping the back of Mathers’ chair as the footage began to play.
At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The back yard appeared peaceful. Then, at 3:27 PM, a figure appeared at the edge of the frame.
Bill’s breath caught. Even through the grainy security footage, there was no mistaking the man’s identity.
Bill recognized him from photographs. Leo Dillard entered the yard from the back alley, walking with unhurried confidence.
He wore jeans and a windbreaker, his dark hair neatly trimmed—the very picture of unremarkable normality.
“He’s not even trying to hide,” Bill muttered.
“He wanted to be seen,” Mathers replied, tapping another command to switch camera views.
The new angle showed Leo approaching the back door.
He paused, glancing up directly at the camera—a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Then Leo reached into his pocket and removed what appeared to be a lockpick set.
With an ease that spoke of considerable skill, he manipulated the tools in the lock.
It took him less than thirty seconds to defeat it.
“Professional-grade lock picks,” Mathers observed. “And he knows how to use them.”
“Can you skip ahead to when he leaves with Jilly?” Bill asked, his voice tight.
Mathers fast-forwarded through several minutes of footage. The timestamp showed 4:02 PM when Leo emerged from the back door again, this time with Jilly held firmly in front of him. Jilly’s little dog Darby darted around at Leo’s feet, snapping at him helplessly.
In the doorway behind them, Gabriela appeared briefly, a small pistol in her hands.
But her aim wavered as Leo used Jilly as a shield, backing steadily toward the back edge of the property.
The last frame showed them disappearing into the alley, Leo’s face turned slightly toward the camera in a final, taunting glance.
“Son of a bitch,” Bill breathed. “He’s playing with us. And he wants Riley to know exactly who has Jilly.”
The realization deepened his alarm. A criminal who didn’t care about being identified was infinitely more dangerous than one who did. It meant Leo believed he was untouchable.
But most concerning of all was the timing. Leo had struck when Jilly was home with only Gabriela, when April was safely at college, when Riley was miles away at Quantico. He’d studied their routines, learned their patterns. The level of planning involved was methodical, obsessive—and terrifying.
Bill’s concern for Riley sharpened into physical pain. He knew what this would do to her—how the guilt and fear would eat at her from the inside. And he knew that Leo understood this too. That was the true target of today’s attack: not just to take Jilly, but to break Riley in the process.