“That’s my mom,” the woman replied emphatically.“My name is Cathy Perkins.Born Cathy Hall.What’s happened to Brittany?”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but Brittany Hall is dead.”Seeming at a loss for what to say next, he gestured toward to Riley and Ann Marie.“These are Special Agents Paige and Esmer from the FBI.”
The hallway suddenly seemed too narrow, too public for the conversation that needed to happen next.Riley glanced at the apartment door standing ajar behind Officer Mendez, then at the curious faces peeking out from neighboring apartments.“Ms.Perkins, perhaps we should continue this conversation inside,” she suggested gently.
Brookman nodded in agreement.“Good idea.Officer Mendez, continue securing the scene.”He turned back to Cathy.“If you’ll follow us, Ms.Perkins.”
They led Cathy into the apartment, closing the door behind them.When Brookman glared at the one officer still at work there, he stepped out of the living room, giving them space to talk.
Riley watched the woman’s reaction closely, noting how her grief-stricken expression shifted to something more complex—confusion …shock—as she took in the surroundings.
“What...what are all these?”Cathy whispered, moving toward one of the origami figures on the coffee table—a perfectly folded crane with wings extended as if preparing for flight.“Did Brittany make these?”
“We believe so,” Riley replied.“You seem surprised.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this.Not from Brittany.”Cathy reached out as if to touch the paper figure, then pulled her hand back.“She never did anything like this.Never had the patience for...”Her voice trailed off as her gaze traveled around the room, taking in the dozens of intricate origami creations that inhabited every surface.“When did she start making these?”
Riley exchanged a meaningful glance with Ann Marie.This was consistent with what they’d learned about Rachel Bennett—a sudden, unexpected interest in origami that coincided with an improvement in mental stability.
“That’s one of the things we’re trying to determine,” Ann Marie said, her voice carrying that perfectly calibrated blend of professionalism and compassion that seemed to come so naturally to her.“Why don’t we sit down?”
They arranged themselves in the living room—Cathy perched on the edge of the sofa, Riley and Ann Marie taking the two armchairs, and Brookman opting to stand, his back against the wall as if he couldn’t quite commit to the intimacy of sitting.
“Ms.Perkins,” Brookman began, “Do you have some identification?Something to show …”
“That I’m actually Brittany’s sister?”
She whipped a wallet out of her handbag and showed them a photo of the two women together, standing in front of a Christmas tree.“I don’t know what else,” she said.
“Thank you.That will do for now,” Brookman said, his tone gentler than Riley had heard from him all day.“Your sister’s body was discovered two days ago by the building superintendent after neighbors reported her door had been left open for several hours.”
Cathy’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening.“Two days ago?I just spoke with her last week...”
“Based on our investigation, she was killed by an intruder,” He paused, seeming to weigh how much detail to share.
Cathy’s breath hitched.“Who?Why?”
Brookman made a decision and plunged ahead.“There’s been another victim killed under similar circumstances.In both cases, the medical examiner determined the cause of death to be respiratory failure induced by a paralytic drug.The killer left each of them positioned on the bed with an origami figure placed on her chest.”
“Oh God,” Cathy whispered.“So it’s...what, a serial killer?Targeting women in DC?”
“That’s what we’re working to determine,” Riley said.
“We’re still early in the investigation,” Ann Marie said, “but the similarities suggest the cases are connected, yes.”
Brookman cleared his throat.“Ms.Perkins, as I told you, we did notify your family about Brittany’s death.Our records indicated your mother lives in Maine...”
“That woman,” Cathy spat with sudden venom, her grief momentarily eclipsed by anger.“Let me guess—she was too drunk to comprehend what you were telling her, or maybe she just didn’t care?”
The vehemence in her voice caught Riley off guard.“You don’t have a close relationship with your mother?”
“Close?”Cathy let out a bitter laugh.“My mother hasn’t been close to anyone except a bottle of gin for the past twenty years.Brittany and I both cut ties with her years ago.I’m not surprised she didn’t mention me.I’m surprised she even remembered she had a daughter named Brittany when you called.”
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Ann Marie said softly.“It sounds like your family situation has been difficult.”
“Difficult is one word for it.”Cathy’s eyes glistened with tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall.“Our father drank himself to death when I was nineteen, and Brittany was seventeen.Mom started her own journey down the same path not long after.I got out of college, marriage, kids, a house in Buffalo with a yard and a dog.”Her voice cracked.“I tried to get Brittany out too, but she was already...struggling.”
Riley nodded, encouraging Cathy to continue.Family history often revealed crucial context.
