CHAPTER FOUR
As Riley descended the stairs to Gabriela’s apartment, she felt embarrassed by her own words. She had lashed out at Hogue unfairly. She knew that he hadn’t deserved her anger, but the man’s calm professionalism while her own world collapsed had intensified her sense of helplessness.
As her hand gripped the railing, she steadied herself for what she knew awaited her. Gabriela had been there when Leo took Jilly. Gabriela had seen what Riley hadn’t. Gabriela would be in terrible anguish. But now Riley needed to hear every detail about what had happened.
The door to Gabriela’s apartment stood ajar and Riley paused at the threshold.
Gabriela sat hunched on her couch, her sturdy frame diminished somehow.
Her shoulders curved inward, her hands trembling as they clutched a crumpled tissue.
Beside her, a female police officer murmured quiet reassurances, a notebook open but forgotten on her lap.
Darby, Jilly’s small, big-eared dog, pressed against Gabriela’s leg, his vigilant eyes fixed on the doorway where Riley now stood.
The apartment, usually immaculate, bore subtle signs of disruption.
A teacup had been abandoned on the side table, its contents cold and untouched.
Tissues had been pulled from a box on the coffee table, used tissues scattered nearby.
The afternoon sun shining through the glass doors from the back yard didn’t raise the mood at all.
“Gabriela,” Riley said softly.
At the sound of her voice, Gabriela’s head snapped up. Her eyes, swollen from crying, widened with a mixture of relief and also fresh anguish.
“Senora Riley,” she choked out, rising unsteadily to her feet. “I try—I try to stop him. I swear to you.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as her words dissolved into a strangled sob.
Riley crossed the room in three quick strides. She pulled the older woman into her arms. Gabriela’s body shook against hers, hot tears soaking through the fabric of Riley’s shirt.
“It’s not your fault,” Riley murmured into Gabriela’s hair, even as her own throat constricted.
The officer discreetly stood, closing her notebook. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything else,” she said. Riley nodded her thanks as the woman slipped from the apartment, closing the door softly behind her.
Gabriela pulled back, wiping roughly at her face. “Sit, sit,” she insisted, her caretaking instincts momentarily overriding her distress. “You look terrible, Senora.”
Despite everything, Riley felt her lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. Even now, Gabriela couldn’t help but mother her. They both settled on the couch, and Darby curled himself up close to their feet.
“Tell me what happened,” Riley said, trying to keep her voice steady, professional. “Everything you remember. Start from the beginning,” This was an interview now. She needed facts, not just emotions—especially not her own.
Gabriela concentrated hard. “Darby heard something and ran upstairs, barking. Then I heard Jilly scream my name. I got the weapon and went up the stairs …” She stopped, a horrified expression on her face.
“I thought I could stop him,” Gabriela wailed, her accent thickening with distress.
“I should have made him leave her…” She broke off, then tried again, her work-worn hands pantomimed holding something.
“I had the gun—the gun you taught me to use—right here in my hands. But I couldn’t.
.. my fingers wouldn’t...” She shook her head.
“If my aim wasn’t perfect, if the bullet.
..” Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper.
“I couldn’t risk hitting Jilly. But I should never have let him. ..”
“No,” Riley said firmly, squeezing Gabriela’s hands.
“No. This is not on you. This is all him.” She leaned forward until Gabriela’s eyes met hers.
“Listen to me. You tried to protect Jilly. I’m sure you were right not to fire.
I wouldn’t have fired either. You called for help immediately. You did everything right.”
“Not enough,” Gabriela whispered.
“It was something,” Riley insisted. “You surprised him. Made his plan less perfect. And that matters, Gabriela. It matters a lot.” She paused, weighing her next words carefully. “Did he say anything else? Anything that might help us understand where he was taking her?”
Gabriela frowned, clearly trying to sift through the blur of traumatic memory. “He say... he say he expects you to be hunting him.”
“But nothing about where?”
“No … nothing like that.”
“Did he drive away? Did you hear a car start?”
“He took her out through back gate. Must have car there.”
“You’ve been very helpful,” Riley said, rising from the couch. “Try to rest now, if you can. There will be officers here to keep you safe.”
Gabriela looked up at her, something like determination hardening in her tear-streaked face. “You will find her, Senora. I know this. You always find them.”
To Riley, Gabriela’s faith felt like a physical burden. She’d found countless victims over the years—some alive, dead. But this was different. This was Jilly. Her Jilly.
“Sí,” Riley said, borrowing Gabriela’s certainty, if not feeling it herself. “I will.”
As she rose to leave, Darby whined and pressed against her leg. Riley crouched down, running her hand along his silky fur.
“We’ll bring her back to you,” she murmured. “I promise.”
Riley gave Gabriela one last reassuring glance before stepping into the hallway.
I will find him, she thought. I will bring Jilly home. And this time I will stop Leo Dillard for good.
As she climbed back up the stairs, she considered what she knew about Leo.
He wouldn’t just be satisfied with taking Jilly.
Of course his main intention was to hurt Riley.
But he would also take pleasure in the pain he’d caused Gabriela, in her crushing sense of guilt and shame.
It was part of his game—to wound not just the primary target of his obsession, but everyone in their orbit. To create a ripple effect of suffering.
At least, Leo will likely keep Jilly alive for a while, she thought. Or would he—?
She cut the off the question in her mind, unable to follow it to its logical conclusion. She had to operate on the assumption that Jilly was alive. Anything else was unthinkable.
What was he doing to her right now? The possibilities formed a parade of horrors in Riley’s mind. She forced those thoughts away, too, focusing instead on the practical. The timeline. The evidence. The next steps— the things she could control.
At the top of the stairs, she nearly collided with Hogue, who was heading toward the kitchen.
“Agent Hogue,” Riley said, her voice steadier than she expected. “I owe you an apology. What I said earlier—”
He held up a hand, cutting her off. “Already forgotten, Paige. We’re all under extreme stress. I think you’re handling this better than I would in your situation.” His eyes, tired but alert, searched her face. “Get anything useful from the housekeeper?”
“Gabriela,” Riley corrected him gently. “Just a comment that confirms he’s using her to bait me. Nothing that points to a location, though. Not yet.”
“Mathers has something you should see. They’re in the living room.”
The house around them was humming with the activity of law enforcement at work.
Riley could hear the murmur of voices, the crackle of radios, the methodical sounds of an investigation taking shape.
It was familiar, almost comforting—except that this time, her home was the crime scene, and her daughter the victim.
In the living room, Bill stood behind Jay Mathers, who was bent over a computer screen. Bill looked up as Riley entered, his solid presence a momentary anchor.
“Riley,” he said, and in that single word she heard volumes of concern, determination, and support.
“Show her,” Mathers said, gesturing to the screen.
Riley moved closer. The screen displayed footage from her home security system—a high-angle view of the back door. She watched as Leo smiled pleasantly at the camera.
“He looked right at the camera,” Bill said quietly. “He wanted us to see him.”
“He’s mocking us,” Riley muttered.
“There’s more when he leaves,” Bill told her. “But it’s hard to watch. I wouldn’t—”“
“I have to see it,” Riley said tersely.
The room fell silent as Mathers hit play. The footage rolled: Leo emerging through the back door, Jilly’s body draped across his arms like a broken doll. Darby lunging at Leo’s legs, teeth bared, Gabriela frozen in the doorway, gun trembling in her outstretched hands.
For a few moments, Riley didn’t seem to be breathing. When she finally inhaled, it came as a ragged gasp. “The alarm system,” she whispered. “You said he hacked it?”
“Someone did,” Matheson replied. “Someone with major skills. We’re talking advanced coding knowledge, an understanding of how to bypass multiple security protocols. It’s not just a simple hack—it’s elegant work.”
Riley frowned. “Leo is brilliant, but I don’t remember anything in his background about digital expertise at this level.”
“You think he had help?” Bill asked, catching her meaning immediately.
“I think it’s definitely worth looking into,” Riley said. She turned to Mathers. “Can you get in touch with Sam Flores in the BAU lab? He might be able to identify digital signatures, patterns that could point to a specific hacker.”
“I’ve reached the same conclusion,” Mathers said, reaching for his phone. “Will get on it right now.”
Riley’s mind was sifting through possibilities. An accomplice changed the equation significantly. Was Leo working with someone by choice, or had he manipulated another person into helping him? Either way, it meant there was another potential weak point in his plan.
“Thank you,” she told Mathers as she turned away. “I need to look at where it happened,” she said. “Where she was when he …”
“She was in the family room,” Bill replied, his voice choking a bit.
Riley walked through the house to the family room at the back.
Two members of the police forensics team were going over everything with their careful expertise.
She forced herself to look clinically at the story told by the chaos—a jumbled, visceral snapshot of the struggle that had happened there.
A chair lay upended, its legs jutting into the air.
The desk was knocked askew, but Jilly’s cell phone still rested on top of it.
A few books were scattered haphazardly on the floor next to a laptop she knew was her daughter’s.
Riley stood at the edge of the wreckage, her mind working to reconstruct the scene.
She could almost see Jilly here, fighting against Leo’s grip, her fierce spirit refusing to be subdued.
She tried to get an image of Gabriela rushing in with the gun, but the forensics team working around the room was distracting.
“I’m going to walk the back of the property,” she told Bill. “Trace Leo’s path.”
“Want company?” he asked.
Riley shook her head. “I need to do this alone. “ She hesitated, then added more quietly, “You know how I work. But it will help if you clear out everybody else in this room before I return.”
“I’ll do that,” he said simply.
Riley moved past him toward the back door. As her hand touched the knob, she steeled herself. She was about to walk in Leo’s footsteps, an attempt to touch his predator’s mind. And perhaps, if she was lucky, to glimpse where he might have taken her daughter.