CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Riley sat across from Bill at the dining room table, the remains of eggs and toast on their plates, as she finished recounting the events in Chicago.
His face had shifted through various expressions as she’d described the forest pursuit, the discovery of Evelyn Caldwell, and Ann Marie’s swift reaction that had neutralized Thomas Veach.
“So Evelyn was safe and Veach was in custody,” Riley concluded, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug for warmth. ,
Bill leaned back in his chair, his own coffee forgotten. “That could have gone very differently,” he said. “If Ann Marie hadn’t been able to take him down like that.”
“I know. That knife was coated with enough arsenic to kill her instantly if he’d been able to use it.”
“Two lives saved in one day,” Bill said with pride, warming his eyes. “Evelyn Caldwell and Ann Marie. You did good, Riley.”
“Ann Marie saved herself. She was amazing, Bill. You should have seen her. When Veach’s attention broke for that split second, she moved like she’d been preparing for that moment her entire career.”
“Which she had been,” Bill pointed out. “But you and Callahan created the distraction that gave her the chance. That was good thinking under pressure.”
Sometimes she found it jarring how normal life continued after cases like this one—breakfast and companionship in the same world as arsenic-laced knives and killers driven by decade-old vengeance.
“How’s Jilly doing with school?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“She seemed good this morning when I drove her there. Mentioned something about a history project that’s due next week.
” Bill took a sip of his coffee, then set the mug down.
“Listen, Riley, I got an email from Meredith yesterday. He mentioned he might be calling today with a case. Something about a series of suspicious drownings in coastal Maryland.”
Riley noted the conflict in his expression. “That sounds like it could be interesting.”
“It does,” he admitted, then sighed heavily. “But with everything that’s been happening with Leo Dillard... I just don’t know if now is the right time for me to be away.”
“Bill,” she said carefully, “we can’t keep putting our lives on hold because of Leo. It’s been weeks since we’ve heard anything from him.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s gone,” Bill countered. “It could just mean he’s planning something. You know how he operates—patient, methodical. He could be just waiting for the perfect moment.”
Riley leaned forward, her eyes finding his. “And what if he is? Do we just... stop living? Is that the answer?”
“It’s not that simple,” Bill said, but the uncertainty in his voice suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced by his own argument.
“No, it’s not,” Riley agreed. “Nothing about this situation is simple. But I do know one thing—fear is exactly what Leo wants from us. Every day we spend looking over our shoulders, second-guessing our choices—that’s a victory for him.
Besides, we’ve upgraded the security system.
Jilly and April both know never to go anywhere alone.
We check in with each other constantly. What more can we do, Bill?
When does it end? How will we know when it’s safe to breathe again? ”
Bill was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “That’s what keeps me up at night. There’s no clear finish line here, no time when we can definitively say we’re all safe.”
Riley reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “Then maybe we need to find a way to live with that uncertainty. To acknowledge the risk without letting it dictate our every move.”
Bill’s phone buzzed on the table beside his plate, the screen lighting up with Meredith’s name. He glanced at it, then at Riley, conflict clear in his eyes.
“You should take the case,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “The world doesn’t stop turning because Leo Dillard decided to fixate on us. People still need us, Bill. They need you.”
Bill held her gaze for a long moment. Then he picked up the phone and swiped to answer.
“Jeffreys,” he said, his voice falling into the professional tone Riley knew so well. As he listened to Meredith on the other end, his eyes remained on Riley’s.
In that moment, Riley felt a small victory—not over Leo, perhaps, but over the fear he had planted in their lives. It was a beginning, at least. A refusal to remain frozen while the world moved on around them.
***
Leo Dillard sat bathed in the pale blue glow of his computer screen.
ShadowCipher had delivered as promised. The cryptocurrency payment had been substantial, but worth every digital coin.
ShadowCipher—a faceless entity known only through reputation in certain dark corners of the internet—had breached the FBI’s internal systems with surgical precision.
Not just personnel files or case reports, but psychological evaluations and private medical records.
The kind of access that shouldn’t have been possible.
“Oh, Riley,” Leo whispered to the empty room. “The walls you build are so easily penetrated.”
He opened a folder labeled “Psychological Assessments” and found a chronological series of evaluations spanning Riley’s FBI career. He selected one of the earliest files, deciding to begin at the beginning. A meticulous man like himself appreciated proper sequence.
The first evaluation was standard—the initial psychological screening all agents underwent.
Riley had passed with high marks, noted for her analytical mind and capacity for empathy that balanced rather than impeded her judgment.
Nothing particularly revealing there, though Leo made mental notes of the few minor concerns that had been flagged, including a resistance to authority when her instincts pointed elsewhere.
It was the assessments that came later, after an incident marked only as “Peterson,” that drew Leo’s full attention. He clicked on the file, and a comprehensive report from Dr. Michael Nevins filled his screen.
Leo leaned forward, eyes widening slightly as he absorbed the details.
Sam Peterson, a sadistic killer, had abducted Riley, holding her captive for three days before she was rescued.
The report was clinical in its language but couldn’t fully sanitize the horror of what had happened.
Peterson had subjected Riley to both physical and psychological torture.
“Interesting,” Leo murmured, saving excerpts to a separate document for later review.
He continued through the files, the story unfolding before him like a dark novel.
Years after Riley’s ordeal, Peterson had resurfaced, this time abducting her daughter, April.
The psychological impact of this second trauma had been profound on both mother and daughter.
Nevins had documented Riley’s guilt, her nightmares, her moments of dissociation.
April’s records were here too—therapy sessions following her rescue, notes on her trauma responses, her gradual healing process.
He sat back in his chair as he contemplated what he had discovered.
Peterson had instinctively found the perfect leverage point with Riley.
The bond between mother and child, the primal protective instinct, the consuming fear of failing to protect one’s offspring.
It was almost elegant in its simplicity.
“So predictable,” Leo said softly. “So... human.”
He stood and moved to the window, pulling aside the heavy curtain just enough to peer at the morning light washing over the quiet street below.
Somewhere out there, Riley and her family were going about their lives, unaware that the most intimate details of their worst moments were now in his possession.
Leo could act on this information immediately.
It would be simple enough to craft messages that would reawaken Riley’s trauma, to create situations that would trigger her fear responses.
He could target April again, or perhaps the adopted daughter, Jilly.
Or Bill Jeffreys, the partner who had become more than a colleague.
But Leo had always appreciated patience, the methodical unfolding of a plan, the savoring of anticipation.
His sister Kelli had taught him that—not intentionally, of course.
But watching her slow, systematic destruction had been instructive.
The most exquisite suffering wasn’t physical; it was psychological.
The constant fear, the perpetual vigilance, the slow erosion of security and certainty.
“They’re waiting for me to act,” he said to his reflection in the window glass. “Every morning they wake up wondering if today will be the day.”
That was power—not the crude application of force, but the threat of it. The knowledge that it could come at any moment, from any direction. Riley, Bill, the girls—all of them living in a state of suspended animation, their lives contracted around their fear.
Leo returned to his computer, closing the files but not deleting them. He would study them more thoroughly later, memorizing the details, understanding the exact architecture of Riley’s psychological vulnerabilities. For now, it was enough to know they existed.
He opened a new document and began typing notes, organizing his thoughts as he always did.
Peterson had been brutal but ultimately unsophisticated.
His approach had been direct, physically invasive.
Leo saw the potential for something more refined.
A game of psychological chess rather than the bludgeoning assault of a street fighter.
What would it do to Riley, he wondered, to receive photographs of April taken without her knowledge?
Or excerpts from her own therapy sessions, proof that her private confessions were now public knowledge?
Or perhaps he would simply wait, letting the anticipation build until the anxiety itself became the torture. The options seemed limitless.
Leo closed his laptop with a soft click that sounded final in the quiet room.
There was no rush. He had inserted himself into Riley’s life, and now he was part of her story, whether she wanted him there or not.
For now, that was enough—knowing that she would be looking over her shoulder, checking locks twice, lying awake in the darkness.
“Take your time, Riley,” he said, as if she could hear him. “I certainly will.”