“Yes, I’ll do that.”Cathy rose unsteadily to her feet.“I just need to...I need a minute ….”
“I understand,” Brookman said.“Officer Mendez will escort you out and can recommend some nearby hotels.We’ll need your contact information before you leave.”
After Ann Marie helped Cathy exchange information with Brookman, the traumatized sister left with Officer Mendez.The three investigators remained in the apartment, surrounded by Brittany Hall’s paper creations.
“Well,” Brookman said, breaking the silence, “I need to head back to the Bennett scene, check on my team’s progress.Also want to follow up with the husband’s friend, Kevin Hitchens, to verify his alibi.I’ll assign our other officer on site to the door while Mendez is gone.”
Riley glanced at her watch, surprised to see it was already past noon.Her stomach reminded her that breakfast had been hours ago.“Ann Marie and I are going to grab some lunch, talk through what we’ve learned so far.”
Brookman nodded.“I’ll call if anything significant turns up.We’ve got the autopsy scheduled for Bennett this afternoon.I’ll send you the preliminary report when it comes in.”
They parted ways, Brookman heading to the back room to speak with his officer while Riley and Ann Marie made their way out of the building.As they approached their car, Riley pulled out her phone, checking for messages.The screen revealed no missed calls, no texts.April usually texted or called by this time of day, a brief check-in that had become part of their routine since she’d started college.
Riley stared at the blank screen, rational explanations presenting themselves: April was in class, her phone had died, she was having lunch with friends, and simply hadn’t thought to reach out yet.All perfectly reasonable scenarios, she told herself, yet her thumb hovered over April’s contact, ready to call.
No—she was being ridiculous.
She slid her phone back into her pocket, forcing her attention to the case at hand.
CHAPTER SIX
Riley guided the car toward a café she knew on Connecticut Avenue.It was a place she and Bill sometimes frequented when working cases in the city—quiet enough for conversation, with decent food and reliable Wi-Fi.
She glanced briefly at Ann Marie in the passenger seat.The younger agent’s face was set in the focused expression that meant she was also mentally cataloging connections: two women with different mental disorders, different lives, but both suddenly “turning a corner,” both creating lots of intricate origami figures, both murdered in the same methodical way.
“Are you getting any insights based on your own experiences with origami?”Riley asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Ann Marie said.“Like I said, it was a long time ago, and I was just a kid.But I remember the repetitive motions, the focus required, the sense of accomplishment when completing a complex figure—it definitely does have therapeutic qualities.”
“But neither woman had mentioned seeing a new therapist,” Riley pointed out.“Rudy Bennett seemed genuinely surprised by his wife’s sudden interest in origami.And from what Cathy Perkins said, Brittany hadn’t mentioned anything about that either.”
“What if they were participating in some kind of group therapy?Something unconventional, maybe not advertised through traditional channels?”
“That would explain why neither of them mentioned it specifically to their families.If it was experimental or outside the mainstream, they might have been reluctant to share until they were sure it was working.”
“And it was working,” Ann Marie added softly.“Until they were killed.”After a moment, she added, “So we need to look for therapists in the DC area who might be using origami as part of their treatment approach.It’s specific enough that there can’t be too many of them.”
“This traffic is a little tricky,” Riley commented as she maneuvered around a delivery truck.“Let’s put it on hold until we get settled in the café.”
“Good idea,” Ann Marie replied.
The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, each woman lost in her own thoughts about the case.Ann Marie occasionally made notes in her small notebook, the scratch of pen against paper a soft counterpoint to the hum of traffic outside.Riley’s thoughts drifted from the case to April.Her daughter still hadn’t texted or called, the silence leaving a persistent whisper ofwhat if.
She pulled into a parking space half a block from the café, cutting the engine.“The food here is decent, but the coffee’s exceptional,” she told Ann Marie as they exited the vehicle.And they have a wide selection of teas.”
Ann Marie smiled.“Then this will be just fine for both of us.”
They went into the café, finding it moderately busy with the lunch crowd but not overcrowded.Riley selected a table near the back, away from the windows and with a clear view of the entrance, and also out of earshot of other customers—a habit ingrained from years of field work.
A server approached with menus and water, taking their lunch orders.The server quickly returned with coffee for Riley and Earl Grey for Ann Marie.Then Ann Marie immediately withdrew her tablet from her bag, positioning it on the table between them.
“I’ll start searching while we wait,” she said.“Therapists, DC area, origami treatment.”
Riley nodded, but her attention kept drifting to her silent phone.The worry she’d been suppressing surged again, demanding acknowledgment.She checked the screen for what felt like the dozenth time in the past hour.Still nothing from April.
Ann Marie glanced up, her gaze catching the concern in Riley’s expression.“You’re worried about something,” she observed quietly.
Riley hesitated, then sighed.“April usually texts or calls around noon.It’s become a routine since this whole thing with Leo Dillard started.”She set the phone on the table, face up, where she could see it if it lit up.“I know it’s probably nothing.She could be in class, or studying, or just forgot.”
