Riley introduced herself and Ann Marie, then gestured toward the small seating area in the corner of the office.“Ms.Simmons, may we sit down?What we need to discuss is serious.”
Mae’s expression shifted slightly, wariness replacing irritation.“Of course.”She moved to a low sofa, while Derek hovered by the doorway, clearly unwilling to leave.
Once they were seated, Riley began.“Ms.Simmons, we believe you may be in danger.Two women who participated in the same therapy group as you have been murdered within the past three days.”
Mae’s face drained of color.“What?Who?”
“Brittany Hall and Rachel Bennett,” Ann Marie said gently.
“Oh my God,” Mae whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.“Rachel?Rachel is dead?”Her voice cracked, genuine shock and grief washing over her features.“That can’t be right.I just spoke with her last week.”
“I’m very sorry,” Riley said, watching Mae carefully.“You knew Rachel well?”
“We were friends,” Mae confirmed, her voice unsteady.“Not just from therapy.We took classes together at Federal City Community College.We understood each other—her with her bipolar disorder, me with my ADHD.”Her eyes filled with tears.“And Brittany, too?I didn’t know her as well, but still...How did they die?”
Riley provided a brief, sanitized version of the killings, watching how Mae’s face contorted with horror as she described the origami figures left on the victims’ bodies.
“And you think I might be next?”Mae asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s a possibility we have to consider,” Riley confirmed.“That’s why we’ve arranged protection.”
Derek moved from his position at the door to stand beside his wife, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.“We’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“What we need now,” Ann Marie interjected, “is information that might help us catch whoever is responsible before they can harm anyone else.”She leaned forward slightly.“What can you tell us about the woman who called herself Fawn Waller?She was the fourth member of your therapy group, correct?”
Mae shook her head, frustration evident.“Almost nothing.Her video feed was always pixelated—deliberately, not because of a bad connection.Marcus said she was very concerned about privacy.The voice was ambiguous, and she never spoke much.”
“How did you come to be in Marcus Berridge’s therapy group?”Riley asked, shifting focus.
“It was Rachel’s idea, actually,” Mae explained, absently twisting one of her bangles.“We met in a class at Federal City Community College about eight months ago—’Geometry in Everyday Life.’The instructor used origami to teach certain concepts, and Rachel and I both found it helpful for our respective conditions.”She gave a sad smile.“For me, the focused attention required to complete each fold helped calm my racing thoughts.For Rachel, it provided structure and control.”
Riley felt a subtle shift in her awareness, the pieces beginning to align.“This instructor—he recommended Marcus Berridge?”
“Yes,” Mae nodded.“He mentioned during class one day that there was a therapist using origami as a treatment method for various disorders, and he had an excellent reputation.Rachel was immediately interested, and I decided to try it too.”She paused.“The origami really did help.More than I expected.It’s been...transformative.”
“What was the instructor’s name?”Ann Marie asked.
“David Kim,” Mae replied.“He’s an adjunct instructor, originally from Korea, I think.He also works at a café somewhere in the city.Really nice guy, very passionate about geometry and origami.”
Riley’s eyes met Ann Marie’s.Another connection had emerged—the instructor who had introduced both victims to the origami therapy.
“Ms.Simmons,” Riley said, shifting forward slightly, “I need you to promise that you’ll stay home, with the protection we’ve provided, until we resolve this case.No exceptions.”
Mae nodded, her earlier annoyance completely gone, replaced by the somber awareness of real danger.“I understand.I won’t go anywhere.”
As they prepared to leave, Riley looked back at Mae and Derek, standing close together in the doorway of the bright office filled with creativity and life.They had arrived in time to save Mae Simmons, to break the pattern before it claimed a third victim.
Riley stepped back into the autumn sunlight, the crisp September air a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere they’d left behind in the Simmons home.“We need to find David Kim immediately,” Riley said as they settled into the vehicle.“He’s the common denominator we’ve been looking for.”
Ann Marie was already reaching for her phone.“I’ll call Federal City Community College and see if he’s teaching today.”She put the call on speakerphone as it connected, placing the device between them on the console.
“Federal City Community College, how may I direct your call?”The receptionist’s voice was pleasant but perfunctory.
“This is Special Agent Ann Marie Esmer with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Ann Marie responded, her tone shifting effortlessly into professional authority.“I need to speak with David Kim, an adjunct instructor in your mathematics department.”
There was a brief pause on the other end.“One moment, please, while I check his schedule.”
Riley listened to the muffled tapping of a keyboard, watching Ann Marie’s face as they waited.The younger agent had an impressive ability to modulate her demeanor based on the situation—cheerful and empathetic with victims, respectfully assertive with colleagues, and now coolly professional with this administrative contact.
