CHAPTER TWO
A familiar tug-of-war started up in her mind.
Part of her—the part that had spent years chasing monsters through the darkest corners of human depravity—hummed with anticipation.
Field work had a clarity to it, a purpose that resonated in her bones.
But another part—the part that had stood in front of her classroom just last week, watching understanding dawn on her students' faces—resisted.
Teaching had given her structure. Predictability.
Safety, even, though she'd never admit to needing it. No more midnight calls. No more explaining to April and Jilly why she might not be home for dinner. Again. But now April wanted to follow in her footsteps—not to be a teacher, but an agent. Even Jilly had hinted at similar ambitions. Riley shuddered at the thought of what might happen to her daughters, who had already experienced more than their share of danger. What cost had her family already paid for her career? What cost would they pay in the future? She didn’t know.
She wondered whether she ever would know.
A red light caught her at an intersection near a community college. Riley leaned back, letting out a slow breath as she gathered her thoughts. Meredith's call had been brief, matter-of-fact. A case. Something urgent. Something that required her.
The light turned green, and Riley accelerated through the intersection, past a few restaurants preparing to open and dog-walkers exercising their pets.
Ann Marie's apartment complex appeared on her right—a modern mid-rise with clean lines and large windows that reflected the cloudy sky.
Riley pulled into a visitor spot and texted: I'm here.
The response came immediately: Be right down!
Riley watched the lobby doors, her mind drifting back to her first impression of Ann Marie Esmer.
So young, so earnest, with that perpetual enthusiasm that sometimes-made Riley feel ancient by comparison.
But beneath the cheerful exterior lay a keen intellect and a surprising toughness.
Riley had underestimated her once. She wouldn't make that mistake again.
The lobby doors swung open, and Ann Marie emerged, moving at her usual brisk pace. She wore a tailored navy pantsuit with sensible shoes; her blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun. Even from a distance, Riley could see the that irrepressible energy that seemed to hover around her like an aura.
The young agent slid into the passenger seat and Riley pulled back into the street traffic. “Morning, Riley! Thanks for the pick-up.” She settled her bag between her feet and fastened her seatbelt. “So, what do we know about the case? Meredith was cryptic when he called.”
“He was cryptic with me too,” Riley said, turning onto the highway on-ramp. “All I know is that it's urgent enough to pull me in. He was insistent.”
“Ah. So, something that requires your special talent.”
Riley felt the familiar uneasiness whenever someone referenced her ability—that uncanny knack for slipping into a killer's mindset, for seeing what others missed.
It wasn't supernatural, just an unusual fusion of observation, deduction, and intuition, but few people truly understood how it worked. Ann Marie was one of the few who did.
“Maybe,” she conceded. “Though it's not like I can turn it on and off like a faucet.”
“Still, Meredith wouldn't call you in unless he thought you could see something others might miss. I mean, pulling you away from teaching and all.”
“I was supposed to be on break, actually.” Riley merged into the middle lane, letting a speeding SUV pass. “Had a whole list of things to catch up on.”
“Oh, sorry about that.” Ann Marie sounded genuinely contrite. “How are things at home? April and Jilly doing okay?”
Riley sighed, thinking of the tense breakfast conversation that morning. “Jilly's fine. April is... well, April. She's got a new boyfriend. Ethan. Or maybe a boyfriend—or maybe not. She’s not sure. An artist who does IT work. She's completely smitten.”
“Ah, young love.” Ann Marie's voice took on a wistful quality. “I barely remember what that feels like. How long has it been going on?”
“A week or so. Not long enough for me to have met him properly.” Riley frowned. “I'm trying not to hover, but...”
“But you're a profiler and a mom,” Ann Marie finished. “Double the worry.”
“Something like that.”
Ann Marie gazed out the window. “You know, I haven't been on a date in almost eight months.
It's hard to find someone who understands the job, the hours. The nightmares.” She turned back to Riley.
“Plus, growing up in a funeral home doesn't exactly give you the sunniest outlook on relationships. Sometimes I think I get along better with the dead than the living.”
Riley shot her a surprised glance. This glimpse of melancholy was unexpected from Ann Marie, whose relentless positivity sometimes bordered on the surreal.
“That's dark,” she said, softening the comment with a smile.
Ann Marie laughed, the momentary shadow passing. “I know, I know. Maybe I'm just growing into the job. Developing that classic BAU cynicism everyone talks about.”
“God help us all,” Riley muttered, but there was warmth in her voice.
They fell into a comfortable silence on the familiar route to Quantico. Riley found herself grateful for Ann Marie's presence—her youthful energy balanced by a growing wisdom that made her both an effective agent and a welcome companion.
The Behavioral Analysis Unit headquarters soon rose before them, gray and imposing against the overcast sky, carrying countless dark memories along with the good ones. She found a parking spot close to the building.
“Home sweet home,” Ann Marie said beside her, gathering her bag and straightening her jacket. There was no irony in her voice—just that earnest attachment to the Bureau that Riley remembered feeling once, before the years had tempered her idealism with hard-won caution.
They badged through security and walked the familiar corridor toward Special Agent in Charge Brent Meredith's office.
“Agent Paige! Good to see you back in the building,” called a senior analyst whose name Riley couldn't quite remember. She gave a polite nod in response.
“You're still a legend around here,” Ann Marie murmured as they continued walking.
“Legends belong in books,” Riley said. “I prefer reality.”
Meredith's door was open when they arrived.
He stood at his window, broad-shouldered and solid as ever, staring out at the grounds with his hands clasped behind his back.
When he turned at their approach, Riley saw the familiar lines of tension around his eyes—the look that meant the darkness had crept into another corner of the world, and they were being called to face it.
“Agent Paige. Agent Esmer. Close the door, please.”
Ann Marie shut it behind them as Riley took one of the chairs facing Meredith's desk. The office was unchanged: sparse, functional, with only a few personal touches—a family photo on the bookshelf, a Virginia Tech mug holding pens, a framed commendation partly hidden behind a stack of files.
Meredith didn't sit. Instead, he picked up a tablet and began swiping through what Riley assumed were case files.
“I'll get right to the point,” he said. “We've got two missing delivery workers, both vanished within the past forty-eight hours. Both cases show signs of foul play.”
He turned the tablet to show them a DMV photo of a young Black man with close-cropped hair and a serious expression.
“Cable Morris, twenty-seven. Driver for FleetRush Logistics. Disappeared during his route near Bundydale in Springcrest County day before yesterday. His truck was found abandoned on a rural delivery road. Keys still in the ignition, phone on the seat.”
Riley studied the photo, already beginning the mental exercise of transformation—not seeing Cable as just a victim, but as a person with habits, relationships, vulnerabilities. It was the first step toward understanding what might have happened to him.
“Signs of struggle?” she asked.
“Scuff marks consistent with someone being dragged.”
He swiped to another photo—a young woman with pale skin, long dark hair, and an open, confident smile.
“Amanda Lindeen, twenty-five. National Parcel Express driver. Went missing yesterday near Talomaska Crossing. Almost identical circumstances—vehicle abandoned on a remote stretch of her route, keys present, signs of a struggle nearby.”
“Witnesses?” Ann Marie asked, her notebook already open, pen poised.
“None so far,” Meredith said. “Both locations are isolated. Low traffic, no security cameras.”
“What makes you think they're connected? Besides the similar circumstances?”
Meredith set down the tablet and moved to his computer. “This is where it gets interesting. Both vehicles contained an envelope. Same handwriting on both.”
He turned the monitor so they could see. On screen was a photograph of a standard white business envelope with “UNDELIVERABLE” written across it in black marker, the letters neat but slightly slanted.
“Inside each envelope was a sheet of paper with similar codes. Here’s one of them.” He clicked to the next image, showing a photographed note:
CG, AF-AI-BI-AH-5, GI, EA-AB-AA-AE
Riley leaned forward, her pulse quickening as she studied the numbers. Something about the format triggered a memory—a kind of pattern that she’d seen before.
“The other one’s like that, only with different letters,” Meredith said.
“This reminds me of the Lancaster case,” Riley said slowly. “Timothy Lancaster.”
Ann Marie glanced at her. “The math teacher killer case we solved last summer?”
“Yes.” Riley's mind raced back to those days spent poring over what appeared to be algebra quizzes, discovering that the solutions revealed coordinates where bodies were buried.
“Lancaster left numeric puzzles at his scenes—they looked like ordinary math problems, but they were actually location coordinates. Have you checked if Lancaster could be involved?”
Meredith frowned slightly. “I wouldn’t make too much of the similarity, Agent Paige.
Lancaster is still in Red Onion State Prison, and he’s not going anywhere.
We've confirmed he's had no outside contact beyond approved family visits.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I've got our cryptographers working on these codes now.
They're looking at the possibility of geographical coordinates, among other things.”
“Any word from the abductor?” Ann Marie asked. “Ransom demands?”
“Nothing.” Meredith's expression darkened. “Which doesn't bode well for Morris and Lindeen.”
Riley studied the code again. Numbers that held meaning, puzzles left deliberately. Someone who wanted to be clever. Someone who wanted them to work for answers.
“I want you both in Talomaska Crossing,” Meredith said.
“Lindeen's disappearance is more recent. Start there, then move on to Bundydale. Captain Travis Hodge from the Virginia State Police will meet you at the local station. He's coordinating the ground search in both locations. He’s also put out a state-wide bulletin alerting delivery drivers to possible danger.”
Riley was already building the mental framework that might eventually lead to insight. She knew from experience that the answers rarely came all at once—they accumulated slowly, piece by piece, until the moment when everything suddenly connected.
“Agent Esmer,” Meredith said, “would you mind giving me a minute with Agent Paige? There's something else I need to discuss with her.”
Ann Marie was professional as always despite the curiosity that briefly flashed in her eyes. “Of course. I'll wait in the hall.”
As the door closed behind her partner, Riley felt a bit tense. Private conversations with Meredith weren’t always pleasant. She watched him return to his chair behind the desk, his expression unreadable as he regarded her across the polished surface.
“What is it?” she asked, when the silence had stretched long enough.
Meredith leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, and Riley prepared herself for whatever was coming next—something he hadn't wanted to share with Ann Marie present.