CHAPTER ONE
The scent of coffee and cinnamon wafted through the house as Riley descended the stairs. She paused at the bottom, listening to the familiar morning sound of Gabriela humming a Guatemalan folk song while flipping pancakes. But there was a conspicuous absence of teenage footsteps from upstairs.
“Jilly!” Riley called up the staircase. “Get up now if you want breakfast before you need to leave!”
A muffled groan filtered down from the second floor, followed by the creaking of bedsprings.
“I mean it,” Riley added. “Gabriela made cinnamon pancakes.”
That earned a more enthusiastic response—a thump and then the sound of a drawer opening. Food worked where threats failed, especially when it was Gabriela’s cooking.
Riley moved toward the family room, drawn to the computer that was always left on. It was patched into their home security system—a setup that had begun as a standard package, but which she and Bill had modified and expanded until it rivaled the surveillance capabilities of a small police precinct.
She settled in front of the screen, opening the application that displayed feeds from the four exterior cameras mounted in the front and back of their townhouse.
The view was peaceful: the small front porch and the empty street out front, the back door and back porch, the small backyard with its neat garden beds, and the lower-level entry into Gabriella’s big room.
Nothing out of place. No one is watching.
Riley cycled through the recorded overnight footage at high speed, eyes sharp for any anomalies.
She’d begun this ritual when Leo Dillard had gone silent after his last veiled threat.
Bill had been doing the same thing even before she started, and she used to think it was excessive. Now she understood.
“Becoming just like Bill,” she murmured to herself as she continued her surveillance check.
Her FBI partner of many years, Bill Jeffreys, was now far more than just her colleague.
Their relationship had deepened in ways neither had anticipated when they first began working together at the Behavioral Analysis Unit.
Now he was as much a part of her household as her daughters or Gabriela.
And, apparently, his security paranoia had rubbed off on her.
But it wasn’t paranoia if the threat was real. And Leo Dillard was very real.
That brilliant, charming psychopath had been one of her students at Quantico—a star pupil who had developed a dangerous obsession with her.
By the time Riley realized the depths of his fixation, Leo had already begun his elaborate game of psychological manipulation.
His intelligence made him far more dangerous than the average stalker.
Even now, with the FBI fully aware of the threat he posed, they couldn’t locate him. He’d vanished into thin air after their last confrontation, leaving only the promise that he would be watching, waiting for the right moment to claim what he believed was his.
Riley closed the security app, satisfied that the night had passed without incident.
She turned her thoughts to April, her oldest daughter, now in her first semester at Jefferson Bell University right here in Fredericksburg.
April had chafed under the security detail initially assigned to her by the university, but in the absence of any immediate threat, the protection had been scaled back to periodic checks and an emergency alert system.
Riley still wasn’t comfortable with the reduction, but she understood.
Resources were finite, and April deserved some semblance of a normal college experience.
Still, every morning brought a fresh wave of anxiety that wouldn’t fully recede until her customary text exchange with April around lunchtime.
Her phone vibrated against the coffee table. Bill’s name flashed on the screen, and Riley felt the immediate easing of tension that always accompanied his calls.
“Morning,” she answered, unable to keep the warmth from her voice. “How’s Maryland treating you?”
“Chilly,” Bill replied, his deep voice rough with what she recognized as insufficient sleep. “But the case is wrapping up. Looks like the drownings were accidental after all.”
Riley leaned back into the couch. “Three people accidentally drowned in the same tidal creek over six months? That seems...”
“Statistically improbable, I know.” Bill sighed.
“But the evidence doesn’t support homicide.
All three victims had high blood alcohol levels, all went missing during particularly strong tides, and there’s not a shred of evidence connecting them beyond geography.
Local PD is installing better warning signs and lighting around the creek. ”
“So you’ll be home tomorrow?” Riley asked, ignoring the slight edge of eagerness in her own voice.
This had been Bill’s first case in weeks—he’d been resistant to go away on field work since the threats had emerged.
“Should be back by late morning.” There was a pause, then: “Everything quiet there?”
The subtext was clear. Any sign of Leo?
“All quiet,” she confirmed. “Though I just spent fifteen minutes reviewing overnight camera footage, so I think your paranoia is contagious.”
Bill chuckled, the sound warming her even through the phone. “It’s not paranoia—”
“—if they’re really after you,” she finished with him, an old joke between them. “I know. But still, I’ll be glad when you’re home. The house feels...” She trailed off, unwilling to admit how vulnerable she felt without him there.
“I know,” he said simply, and she knew he did. “I’ll be home soon. Give Jilly a hug for me.”
“Will do. Stay safe.”
“Always.”
The call ended, and Riley rose from the couch, following the increasingly potent aroma of breakfast into the kitchen. Gabriela stood at the stove, her sturdy frame wrapped in a floral apron, expertly flipping the last of a stack of cinnamon pancakes onto a waiting plate.
“Buenos días,” Gabriela greeted her with a warm smile. “Coffee is fresh.”
“You’re a saint,” Riley said, making her way to the coffee maker. As she poured herself a mug of the dark, fragrant brew, Jilly appeared in the doorway, her hair still damp from a shower, dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt that Riley didn’t recognize.
“Morning,” Jilly mumbled. At fifteen, Jilly had blossomed from the desperate waif Riley had rescued in Phoenix into a strong, resilient young woman. But there were still shadows in her eyes sometimes, remnants of the abuse she’d suffered before Riley had found her and, eventually, adopted her.
Like Riley and April, Jilly had dark hair, but her build was smaller, more wiry. Now in her early 40’s, Riley’s own hair had touches of gray, but she was still strong, tall, and very fit.
“Bill says hello,” Riley said, taking a seat beside her daughter. “He’ll be home tomorrow.”
Jilly nodded, accepting the plate Gabriela handed her with a quiet “Thanks.”
“Take it into the dining room,” Riley said. “I’ll join you there with mine.”
When they were both settled at the long wooden dining room table, Jilly poked at her food and gobbled a few bites before pulling a notebook from her backpack.
“I still can’t figure out this stupid problem,” she grumbled, flipping to a page filled with equations and frustrated doodles in the margins.
Riley leaned over, studying the algebra problem. “It looks like you need to use the quadratic formula,” she said, pointing to a particular line in Jilly’s work.
“But how do I get it to look like that?” Jilly asked, frustration evident in her voice.
“You need to set the equation to zero,” Riley explained, taking a pen and showing the steps. “Then you can plug in the values for a, b, and c.”
Jilly watched carefully, and Riley could see the moment understanding clicked into place. “Oh! So then I can solve for x.”
“Exactly.” Riley smiled, squeezing Jilly’s shoulder gently. “You’re getting it.”
Jilly quickly worked through the rest of the problem, her confidence growing with each correct step. The sight warmed Riley’s heart—these small, normal moments were what she fought to protect, what made all the darkness she encountered in her work bearable.
Her phone rang, cutting through the peaceful moment. The caller ID displayed “Brent Meredith.” Riley’s stomach tightened—a call from the Special Agent in Charge this early in the morning rarely brought good news.
“Paige,” she answered, automatically straightening her posture.
“Agent Paige,” Meredith’s deep voice held the controlled urgency she recognized from years of working with him. “I need you and Esmer on a case. DC Metro has a body with some...unusual characteristics that match an unsolved from a couple of days ago.”
“What kind of characteristics?” Riley asked, already mentally shifting gears from mother to FBI agent.
“The victims were posed with origami figures,” Meredith replied. “DC Metro requested our involvement after connecting the cases. The latest scene is fresh—body discovered late last night.”
Riley grabbed a pen, jotting the address Meredith recited on a blank paper from Jilly’s notebook.
“I’ve arranged for Jerry Langham to cover your classes,” Meredith continued. “He’ll be there by nine.”
Riley suppressed a sigh. Ever since she’d expressed her desire to return to fieldwork rather than remain confined to the BAU classroom, Meredith had developed an uncanny knack for discovering cases that—according to him—only she could handle properly.
“We’ll head straight to the scene,” she confirmed. “I’ll pick up Esmer on the way.”
“Good. Homicide Detective Chester Brookman will meet you there.”
The call ended, and Riley immediately dialed Ann Marie Esmer, her young partner whose enthusiasm for the job still hadn’t been dulled by the horrors they routinely encountered.
“Esmer,” Ann Marie answered, her voice bright and alert despite the early hour.
“Ann Marie, it’s Riley. We’ve got a case—possible serial with two victims so far. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be ready,” Ann Marie replied, her voice taking on the professional crispness she reserved for cases. “Should I bring anything specific?”
“Just the usual kit,” Riley said. “It’s in DC, so we won’t be far from resources if we need them.”
After ending the call, Riley turned to find Jilly watching her. It was an expression Riley had seen too often on both her daughters’ faces—the look that said they understood her work was important but wished it didn’t take her away so frequently.
“You have to go,” Jilly stated rather than asked.
“Yes,” Riley confirmed. “But Gabriela will drive you to school this morning.” She glanced at Gabriela, who nodded in immediate agreement.
“Of course,” Gabriela said firmly. “We will finish breakfast, and then I drive.”
Riley rose, squeezing Jilly’s shoulder again before heading upstairs to change into work clothes.
As she pulled on a tailored blazer over her blouse, her thoughts returned to the empty house Jilly and Gabriela would return to after school.
With Bill in Maryland and April at college, the house would be less protected than usual.
Downstairs again, Riley found Gabriela alone in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.
“Jilly is getting her backpack,” Gabriela explained, reading the question in Riley’s eyes.
Riley stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You remember the code for the safe?”
Gabriela’s expression hardened slightly, a steely resolve settling over her usually warm features. “Yes. Four-five-nine-two. I remember.”
Their eyes met in a moment of silent understanding.
Two days ago, Riley had transferred April’s Ruger SR22 pistol to Gabriela’s care.
The small gun, originally purchased for April but confiscated after a negligent discharge incident, now resided in a compact safe in Gabriela’s downstairs quarters.
Riley had taken Gabriela to Smith Firearms for training, surprised and then impressed by the housekeeper’s natural aptitude with the weapon.
“I pray you never need it,” Riley said softly.
“But it is there if I do,” Gabriela finished with quiet assurance.
They hadn’t told Jilly about the arrangement. The teenager had enough to worry about without knowing that her adoptive mother and housekeeper were preparing for the possibility of an armed intruder. But the threat of Leo Dillard lingered too prominently in Riley’s mind to ignore basic precautions.
“I’ll have my phone on,” Riley said, gathering her keys and badge from the counter. “Call me if anything seems off. Anything at all.”
“We will be fine,” Gabriela assured her, the certainty in her voice bolstering Riley’s confidence. “You go catch the bad guy.”
Riley took comfort in knowing that Gabriela—steady, dependable Gabriela—was more than just their housekeeper. She was their protector too, with a mama bear’s fierce determination and now, the means to back it up if necessary.
As she headed for the door, Riley cast one final glance around the home where her unconventional family lived.
The house was secure, Gabriela was capable, and Jilly would be at school all day.
When she stepped outside, the September morning presented the cool air and vibrant colors of a lovely fall day.
Even so, the persistent unease that had become her constant companion since Leo Dillard entered their lives still lingered.