CHAPTER TEN
Riley struggled for the right words to explain to Bill what she’d found at the Dillard family cabin.
The dining room felt too quiet now. The lasagna cooling on their plates, the empty chair across from them, were constant reminders of what was at stake.
This revelation would reopen wounds that had barely healed for both of them, but especially for Bill.
There was no gentle way to say it, so she chose directness instead. “Bill, the man Leo left in the box in that cabin wasn’t a stranger. It was Stanley Pope.”
She watched Bill’s face transform—first confusion, then disbelief, and finally a kind of hollowed-out horror. His shoulders stiffened, his hands flattened against the tabletop as if bracing himself.
“Stanley Pope,” he repeated, his voice barely audible. “The officer I shot at Fort Nash Mowat.”
“Yes.”
Bill’s eyes lost focus, and Riley knew he wasn’t seeing her anymore. He was back at that military base eight years ago, in the chaos and terror of the sniper situation. Back to the moment when his bullet had struck the wrong person—a young officer who had been trying to help.
“I should have told you sooner,” Riley said softly. “When I called from the cabin. I just—”
“You knew?” Bill’s eyes snapped back to hers, suddenly sharp with betrayal. “You knew it was Pope when you called me, and you didn’t say anything?”
Before Riley could answer, footsteps on the stairs announced Gabriela’s return. The housekeeper paused in the doorway, her eyes darting between them, clearly seeing the tension.
“April is better now,” she said. “I stayed until she fell asleep. The poor girl is exhausted.” Her gaze lingered on Riley. “She will be okay, Senora. She is strong, like her mother.”
Riley managed a nod. “Thank you, Gabriela. We’ll clean up our own dishes tonight. You should get some rest yourself.”
“I will try.” Gabriela hesitated. “If you need anything, anything at all...”
“We’ll let you know,” Riley assured her.
After Gabriela disappeared down the stairs to her apartment, the silence between Riley and Bill stretched taut again. Riley could feel his unspoken anger, his need for an explanation.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bill asked finally, his voice controlled but strained.
“I was still processing it myself. And frankly, I didn’t want to add to your burden while we were still in the middle of searching for Jilly.”
“That was not your call to make,” Bill said, each word precise. “You knew what that would mean to me, and you kept it from me.”
“What good would it have done?” Riley felt her own anger rising to meet his. “Would knowing it was Pope have helped us find Jilly any faster? Would it have changed anything except to distract you with an old trauma in the middle of a crisis?”
“That’s not the point!” Bill’s palm came down on the table, rattling the silverware. “The problem is that you didn’t trust me enough to handle it. You made a decision about what I could and couldn’t know, like I’m some kind of—”
“I’m telling you now!” Riley shot back. “What more do you want from me, Bill? Should I have blurted it out over the phone while I was still at the scene? Should I have let it distract us both?”
Bill pushed back from the table and stood, pacing into living room, staring out the front window, his back turned to Riley.
She watched him, her own anger subsiding as quickly as it had flared.
She understood his reaction. The incident at Fort Nash Mowat had nearly destroyed him.
The guilt of shooting Pope by mistake, combined with losing Lucy Vargas in the final confrontation with the sniper, had sent Bill into a spiral of self-recrimination and depression that had taken months to emerge from, driving him to the brink of suicide.
And now Leo had reopened that wound, using Pope as a prop in his sick revenge fantasy.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You’re right. I should have told you as soon as I realized who it was.”
Bill turned back to her, his expression softening slightly. “No, you were probably right to wait. I just...” He ran a hand through his hair. “God, Riley. Pope. Of all people.”
“I know.”
“How did Leo even know about that?” Bill asked, returning to the table and sinking into his chair. “About Pope specifically?”
Riley leaned forward. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about. This isn’t just about records, Bill. Leo knows things about us—about our reactions, our triggers, our deepest psychological vulnerabilities. It’s more than just knowing facts.”
“You think he’s had access to our psych evaluations?” Bill’s brow furrowed. “Our therapy records?”
“I’m almost certain of it,” Riley said. “He’s using Mike Nevins’s insights against us. That level of understanding... it’s too precise to be guesswork.”
Bill absorbed this, his face grim. “If he can access that kind of information...”
“Then we’re dealing with someone who not only wants to hurt us, but who knows exactly how to do it most effectively.” Riley finished his thought. “And he’s using those insights to torment us while he has Jilly.”
The mention of her daughter’s name brought a fresh wave of anguish. Riley closed her eyes briefly, trying to center herself. As she opened them, Bill reached across the table to cover her hand with his.
“We can’t let him succeed in turning us against each other,” Bill said quietly. “That’s what he wants. You were right about that part.”
“I know,” Riley squeezed his hand. “But it’s working, isn’t it? Even though we know better, we’re still fighting. We’re still letting him get to us.”
“It’s hard not to,” Bill admitted. “Especially when it feels like we’re getting no closer to finding Jilly than we were this morning.”
The sound of Riley’s phone ringing cut through their conversation. She pulled it from her pocket, checking the screen. It was the BAU technician Riley had asked Jay Mathers to call to find out who might be helping Leo with digital skills.
“It’s Sam Flores,” she told Bill, then answered, putting the call on speaker. “Sam, you’re on speaker with Bill and me.”
“Riley,” Sam’s voice was warm with concern despite the tinny quality of the speakerphone. “How are you holding up?”
“About as well as you’d expect,” Riley replied. “Any news on the digital front?”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Sam said. “I’ve been running diagnostics on the code that was used to hack your home security system, and I’m convinced that we’re looking at the work of a character known as ShadowCipher.”
Riley exchanged a glance with Bill. “ShadowCipher?”
“A hacker—one of the best. Almost a legend in certain dark web circles. I’ve been tracking their work for years, but no one’s ever been able to identify them. Their code is... well, it’s practically art. Distinctive and incredibly sophisticated.”
“And you think this ShadowCipher is working with Leo?” Bill asked.
“The evidence points that way,” Sam replied. “The security breach at your home has all the hallmarks of their work. And it would explain how Leo has been able to access so much sensitive information.”
Riley sat up straighter. “Sam, I think Leo has accessed our psychiatric records—mine and Bill’s. Is that something this ShadowCipher could do?”
“Without breaking a sweat,” Sam confirmed. “Medical records, FBI personnel files, therapy notes—none of it would be beyond their capabilities. ShadowCipher specializes in extracting information from secure government and healthcare databases.”
Bill’s expression darkened. “That explains a lot.”
“I’ve got a team working on tracking ShadowCipher now,” Sam continued. “But I have to be honest with you, Riley—this person is incredibly elusive. Law enforcement has been trying to identify them for years without success.”
“Do whatever you can,” Riley urged. “If we can find ShadowCipher, we might find Leo. And Jilly.”
“I will,” Sam promised. “But don’t pin all your hopes on me. This hacker is... well, they’re a ghost. They leave almost no trace.”
After thanking Sam and ending the call, Riley sat in thought for a moment, then turned to Bill.
“I know someone who might be able to help us track down ShadowCipher,” she said.
Bill’s eyes widened slightly in recognition. “Van Roff.”
Riley felt a twinge of hope at the sound of the name. Van was technical analyst in the Seattle FBI field office—and a valuable ally matters like this.
Riley nodded. “If anyone can find this hacker, it’s Van.”
Bill didn’t look entirely convinced. “Van Roff operates in some pretty gray areas, himself, Riley. And he’s all the way out in Seattle.”
“He doesn’t need to be here physically,” Riley said. “And right now, I don’t care about gray areas. I care about finding Jilly.”
Without waiting for further debate, Riley found Van’s number, dialed, and put the phone on speaker again. It rang several times before a gruff voice answered.
“Paige. I heard about what happened. Your kid. That’s rough.”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Riley said. “I need your help. We’re looking for a hacker called ShadowCipher. They’re working with the man who took my daughter.”
The line went silent for so long that Riley thought they might have lost the connection.
“Van? Are you still there?”
“ShadowCipher,” Van finally said, his voice uncharacteristically thoughtful. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”
Riley exchanged a surprised look with Bill. “You know them?”
“Not exactly ‘know,’” Van clarified. “He reached out to me once. A few years back. Professional courtesy, I guess you could call it. Wanted my opinion on some code he’d written. I complied but tried to trace his whereabouts. I couldn’t do it.”
“Can you contact him?” Bill asked.
Another pause. “Maybe. It’d be risky. ShadowCipher values his anonymity above all else. And he’s not friendly. But... for your kid? I’ll try.”
Relief washed over Riley. “Thank you, Van. This means—”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Van interrupted. “I’m not promising anything. But I’ll see what I can do. And Paige? Hang in there. Your girl’s tough, right?”
“The toughest,” Riley confirmed, her throat tight.
“Then she’ll be okay. I’ll be in touch.”
After hanging up, Riley and Bill sat in silence for a moment, processing this new potential lead.
“It’s something,” Bill finally said. “Not much, but something.”
Before Riley could respond, her phone rang again. Ann Marie’s name flashed on the screen.
“Ann Marie,” Riley answered. “Please tell me you’ve found something.”
“We’re making progress,” Ann Marie replied, her normally cheerful voice sounded serious and focused.
“We’ve been investigating the office where Pope was abducted.
It was leased to a shell company called Briarwood Holdings.
Garner’s team has identified several other properties leased by the same company. ”
Riley felt another surge of hope. “Addresses?”
“I’m texting them to you now,” Ann Marie said. “But Riley... there are quite a few. And they could all be false leads.”
“I know,” Riley said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “Leo’s smart. He’d leave us breadcrumbs pointing in the wrong direction.”
“That’s what Garner thinks too,” Ann Marie agreed. “But we have to check them all, just in case. I’m heading to one now—an abandoned warehouse in Anacostia. The team is splitting up to cover more ground.”
Riley’s phone chimed with the incoming text. “We’ll meet you there,” she said decisively. “Then we can decide if we should split up to cover more of them. Text me the exact address.”
After ending the call, Riley turned to Bill. “We should go.”
Bill was already on his feet, gathering their dinner plates from the table. “I’ll put all this in the kitchen. You can tell Gabriela why we’re going.”
Riley grabbed her jacket and checked her weapon, habits ingrained over decades of fieldwork. She went downstairs to look in on Gabriela, who was sitting in her small apartment, staring at an open magazine but obviously not reading it.
“We have to go out,” Riley told her softly. “The team may have some leads. But your protection detail is still outside. We just put our dishes in the kitchen …”
Gabriela looked up, her eyes red but determined. “Go. I’ll clean up the kitchen. You will find her, Senora. I know this. You always find them.”
Riley couldn’t bear to acknowledge the woman’s unwavering faith, so she simply nodded.
When she rushed back upstairs, Bill was waiting. “I’ll drive,” he said.
Outside, the night air was cool against Riley’s face as she and Bill walked to his car. The unmarked police vehicle was still parked across the street, the officer inside raising a hand in acknowledgment as they passed.
“You know,” Bill said as they got into his car, “these locations Ann Marie sent—they’re probably all dead ends. Just like you said.”
“Probably,” Riley agreed, buckling her seat belt. “But we have to try.”
“And if they are all dead ends?” Bill asked, starting the engine.
Riley stared out at the darkened street. “Then we keep looking. We don’t stop until we find her.” She turned to look at Bill. “No matter what Leo throws at us next.”
As they pulled away from the curb, Riley felt the constant pressure of time. Somewhere out there, Jilly was waiting for them to find her. And Leo was waiting too, planning his next move in a game where the stakes couldn’t possibly be higher.