CHAPTER SIX
The Georgetown streets glided past Riley’s window, historic brick townhouses and manicured hedges a surreal backdrop to the nightmare unfolding in her life.
Jilly’s face flickered through her mind—not the occasionally defiant teenager, but the fragile girl who still sometimes woke crying from dreams of her life before Riley had found her.
Before Riley had promised to keep her safe.
A promise now shattered by Leo Dillard’s calculating hands.
Jilly’s phone, now her contact with Leo, felt heavy in her jacket pocket.
Riley fought to maintain her focus on the road ahead.
Every instinct in her body screamed for action—to run, to hunt, to tear apart the world until she found her daughter.
But Leo was too smart for blind rage to be of any use against him.
Glancing at the empty passenger seat, she repeated her plea to Jilly, “Hold on.”
The navigation system announced her arrival at the Dillard townhouse, its robotic voice jarringly calm.
Riley pulled to the curb behind a police cruiser, exactly where she’d instructed Hogue to send protection.
Another unmarked car further down the street registered instantly in Riley’s trained eye.
Good. Hogue had taken her warning seriously.
Georgetown townhouses were far older and far larger than the new ones of the kind that Riley and her family occupied. The Dillard mansion was three stories of red brick facade with black shutters.
Riley climbed the short flight of steps to the front door. Soon after she rang the bell, the heavy oak door swung inward, revealing a thin man in in his sixties wearing a crisp white shirt and dark vest.
“Agent Paige,” he said in a smooth voice that reeked of elitism. “Mrs. Dillard is expecting you. Please follow me.”
Riley didn’t bother asking how the butler knew her name. In a house like this, efficiency was expected.
“Thank you,” she said, stepping into the foyer.
The interior matched the promise of the exterior—tasteful wealth expressed through a marble-floored entryway, a sweeping staircase, and walls hung with artwork in gold frames.
“This way, please,” the butler said, leading her through an archway and along a corridor lined with framed photographs.
Riley’s gaze snagged on them as she passed—family portraits spanning decades, capturing moments of carefully curated happiness.
In several, she spotted a younger Leo, his smile perfect, his eyes empty even then.
The butler stopped at a set of pocket doors and slid them open. “Agent Paige, ma’am,” he announced, then stepped aside with a small bow.
The room beyond was a library, its walls lined with leather-bound volumes that Riley suspected were actually read, not merely displayed.
Sitting rigidly on a blue velvet settee was Elizabeth Dillard, flanked by two uniformed officers.
In her early sixties, she wore her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a smooth chignon.
Even in this moment of disruption, she maintained the composure of her class—back straight, ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap.
Only the tightness around her eyes betrayed her distress.
“Mrs. Dillard,” Riley said, crossing to her. “I’m Special Agent Riley Paige with the FBI.”
Elizabeth’s gaze swept over Riley, taking in her practical clothing and the shadows of exhaustion beneath her eyes.
“Yes, I was told you would explain this disruption to me.” Her voice carried the refined tones of old money and expensive education.
“I don’t understand why my home has suddenly become a police matter.
I once told another FBI agent, Jeffreys, I believe, as much as I could about …
my son. These officers arrived twenty minutes ago but have explained nothing beyond assuring me it’s for my protection. ”
Riley glanced at the officers—a young woman and an older man, both looking uncomfortable in these rarefied surroundings. Appearing rather relieved, they both stepped away to one side of the room.
“They were following protocol, Mrs. Dillard. I’ll explain everything shortly.”
The woman gestured to a nearby armchair, and Riley sat down. “Where is your husband?” she asked.
“Charles is at his office. The same kind of officers who appeared on my doorstep apparently appeared at Lawson and Dillard as well. He called me in quite a state. Charles doesn’t appreciate disruptions to his day.”
Riley watched the woman’s face carefully as she asked, “Has your son contacted you recently, Mrs. Dillard?”
A flicker of something—pain? fear?—crossed Elizabeth Dillard’s features before her social mask reasserted itself. “Leo? No. Not since...” She paused, her perfect composure wavering. “Not since we asked him to leave our home five years ago.”
“Are you certain?” Riley pressed. “No calls, emails, letters, messages through intermediaries? Nothing at all?”
“Nothing,” Elizabeth said firmly. “After what happened with Kelli, we made it clear that he was no longer welcome in our lives.”
Riley remembered learning about what had happened to Kelli. Like the psychopath he was, Leo had driven his younger sister to suicide.
“Charles even had his name removed from the family trusts,” Elizabeth said.
She fell silent for a moment then continued, a note of irritation entering her voice.
“Your colleague was here earlier this month asking similar questions. Agent Jeffreys, I believe. I told him the same thing. We have not heard from our son.”
“Bill Jeffreys is my partner,” Riley confirmed. “And I apologize for what might seem like harassment, but the situation has... escalated.”
“Escalated how?” Elizabeth’s posture grew even more rigid, if that were possible.
Riley reached into her pocket and withdrew Jilly’s phone. “I received this message a little over an hour ago.”
She held out the phone so Elizabeth could read the text: Special Agent Paige, thought you’d want to know that I’m hoping to mend fences with my family soon.
It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper reunion.
Of course I’ve got to do this alone. There are some things all of us have to do alone.
I’m sure you understand what I mean. Leo.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly as she read. When she looked up, her expression had softened. “Perhaps... perhaps he truly does want reconciliation? People can change, Agent Paige.”
The hope in the woman’s voice struck Riley as tragic.
Despite everything Leo had done—everything he’d done to his own sister—his mother still wanted to believe in redemption.
It was a sentiment Riley understood all too well, having seen it countless times in the families of killers.
The human heart’s capacity for hope was both miraculous and devastating.
“Mrs. Dillard,” Riley said gently, “I’m afraid this message isn’t sincere. It’s meant to be ironic, possibly threatening.”
“You can’t know that,” Elizabeth protested, her carefully constructed facade beginning to crack. “You don’t know my son.”
“He was my student, Mrs. Dillard,” Riley countered. “And since he left the Academy, I’ve had cause to study him carefully. I’ve read every file, interviewed everyone who knew him at Quantico. “
Before Elizabeth could respond, a chime sounded from the phone in Riley’s hand. A new message had arrived.
Riley looked down, her breath catching in her throat as she read: It’s nice of you to stop by and check in on my parents, Riley. I knew you would.
Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Riley’s face. “What is it? What does it say?”
Riley turned the phone so Elizabeth could see. The older woman’s face drained of color.
“Is he—is he watching us now?” Elizabeth whispered, her gaze darting to the windows.
Riley’s mind raced through possibilities. Was Leo nearby, watching the house? Had he planted surveillance equipment? She dismissed both theories—too risky even for him, too easily discovered, too little to gain from it.
“No,” Riley said, her certainty growing. “He’s not watching. He’s anticipating. He knew I would come here after receiving his first message.” She met Elizabeth’s frightened gaze. “Your son has been planning this for a long time, Mrs. Dillard. He’s studied me just as thoroughly as I’ve studied him.”
Another chime from the phone. Riley looked down, her heart hammering as she read: Please tell mother that I’m on my way to stop Kelli from doing herself harm.
Riley frowned, confusion momentarily overriding her dread. Leo’s sister had committed suicide five years ago. Was this some twisted joke? A way to further torment his mother?
And then understanding struck her.
“He’s at the place where Kelli died,” Riley said with sudden certainty. “Or he’s on his way there.”
“What?” Elizabeth whispered, her composure finally crumbling. “Why would he—”
“Because that’s where he’s holding my daughter,” Riley said, the words tasting like ashes in her mouth.
Elizabeth stared at her, uncomprehending. “Your daughter? I don’t understand.”
“Leo has abducted my fifteen-year-old daughter, Jilly,” Riley said, her voice flat, controlled. She couldn’t afford to break down now. “He took her from our home this afternoon, and I believe he’s taken her to the place where your daughter died.”
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.
“Mrs. Dillard,” Riley continued, leaning forward, “I need to know where Kelli died. Where exactly.”
Elizabeth shook her head slightly, as if trying to ward off the question. “I—I can’t. I can’t talk about that day.”
“I understand this is painful,” Riley said, fighting to keep impatience from her voice. “But I don’t have time for evasion. Every minute counts now. I can search official records for the location, but that would waste valuable time—time my daughter might not have.”
Elizabeth’s tears spilled over, tracking perfect lines down her powdered cheeks. “You don’t understand. We’ve never spoken of it. Not to anyone. Charles and I agreed.”
“Elizabeth,” Riley said, using the woman’s first name, creating an artificial intimacy, “Leo wants me to go there. He’s leading me to that place because that’s where he has Jilly. Please.”
The raw plea in her voice seemed to penetrate Elizabeth’s defenses. The older woman took a shuddering breath.
“We have—had—a cabin in the woods near Harper’s Ferry.
It’s been in Charles’s family for generations.
We used to spend summers there when the children were small.
” Elizabeth’s voice grew distant, as if she were speaking from the bottom of a deep well.
“Kelli loved it there. The wildflowers, the stream behind the house. She used to collect smooth stones from the streambed and paint them. Little works of art.”
Riley waited, not daring to interrupt the flow of memory.
“We had no idea of how cruelly Leo was tormenting her, and she wouldn’t tell us about that.
But we could see that she was suffering.
One day she asked to go to the cabin alone.
To ‘clear her head,’ she said.” Elizabeth’s hands twisted together in her lap.
“We should have known. We should have seen how broken she was.”
“The specific location, Mrs. Dillard,” Riley prompted gently. “I need an address, directions.”
Elizabeth visibly pulled herself together.
“It’s off Harpers Ferry Road, near the national park.
There’s a private drive marked with a stone pillar—no sign, just a small carving of a deer on the pillar.
Follow that road about half a mile until it ends.
The cabin sits in a clearing surrounded by oak trees. We’ve left it deserted ever since …”
Riley committed the directions to memory, already rising from her seat. “Thank you,” she said. “Officers, please stay with Mrs. Dillard. I’m going to have additional agents join you shortly.” The two police officers moved closer to the woman they were charged to protect.
As Riley turned to leave, Elizabeth called after her, “Agent Paige?”
Riley paused at the doorway, looking back.
“Leo...” Elizabeth hesitated, then continued, her voice stronger, “Leo likes to control … everything. He always has. He’s intelligent. He’s manipulative. He’s cruel.”
Riley nodded, understanding the warning. “I know.”
“And Agent Paige?” Elizabeth’s eyes, though red-rimmed, held a fierce intensity. “Find your daughter.”
“I will,” Riley said, the promise burning like a brand in her chest.
She hurried back through the corridors of the elegant home, past the butler who appeared from somewhere to open the front door for her, and down the steps to her car.
As she slid behind the wheel, she pulled out her phone—her phone, not Jilly’s—and started to dial Bill.
But then her fingers stopped dead still.
She remembered the words from Leo’s message: “There are some things all of us have to do alone. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”
The message was implicit but clear. Leo meant to have this out with Riley face to face, with no one else on hand. Leo would surely know if she brought any kind of backup, even if they tried to stay concealed. He probably had the whole area monitored.
If he’s holding Jilly there …
She understood that the message was nothing less than a threat.
If she involved Bill or anybody else in this errand, it would mean Jilly’s death.
Riley put the phone away and pulled away from the curb, leaving the refined quiet of Georgetown behind.
Ahead lay Harpers Ferry, the woods, the cabin—and Leo, waiting with Jilly in a place marked by another young woman’s despair and death.
Leo was controlling the narrative for now, but Riley was determined to take it away from him. She had faced monsters before and she’d be damned if she’d let Leo Dillard write the ending to this story.