“I’m not armed,” he said immediately, his accent noticeable but his English clear.“Please, I can explain.”
Riley still held her weapon.“Keep your hands where I can see them and step away from the vehicle.”
Kim complied, moving slowly and carefully until he stood on the small patch of lawn between the driveway and the house.His eyes darted between Riley and Ann Marie, fear evident in his expression.
Riley moved forward, reaching for her handcuffs.“David Kim, you have the right to remain silent.Anything you say—”
“Wait.”Ann Marie’s voice cut through the tension, gentle but firm.She had moved to stand slightly between Riley and Kim, her body language conveying none of the threat that Riley’s did.“Riley, I don’t think this is what it looks like.”
Riley paused, her eyes meeting Ann Marie’s.In their months working together, Riley had learned to trust the younger agent’s intuition about people.
“What are you thinking?”Riley asked quietly.
“That we’re missing something,” Ann Marie replied, then turned back to Kim.“Mr.Kim, why don’t we all go inside and talk?I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
The tension in Kim’s shoulders eased slightly at her tone, though his hands remained cautiously raised.“Yes, please.Inside is better.”
Riley hesitated, then nodded, holstering her weapon.“Lead the way, Mr.Kim.But understand—any sudden movements, and I’ll have to put those cuffs on you.”
Kim nodded vigorously, relief washing over his features.He led them to the front door, fumbling slightly with his keys before pushing it open.The interior of the bungalow was simple but well maintained—a small living room with unpretentious furnishings, bookshelves lining one wall, a compact dining area visible through an archway.Riley noticed immediately that while there were origami figures displayed—a crane on the coffee table, what appeared to be a lotus flower on a bookshelf—they were nowhere near as abundant as in the victims’ homes.
“Please, sit,” Kim gestured to a small sofa.
“I prefer to stand,” Riley said, positioning herself where she could observe both Kim and the exits.
Ann Marie, however, took a seat on the sofa’s edge, creating a less confrontational atmosphere.“Mr.Kim, we’re investigating the murders of two women who took your Geometry in Everyday Life course at Federal City Community College—Rachel Bennett and Brittany Hall.”
Kim’s face drained of color, his body actually swaying slightly before he caught himself on the edge of a chair.“Murdered?Both of them?”His shock appeared genuine.“When?How?”
Riley watched his reaction carefully.Her instincts told her that his horror was real.This wasn’t the calculated response of someone feigning surprise; it was the unfiltered reaction of a man hearing devastating news for the first time.
“They were killed in their homes,” Riley said, deliberately withholding the details about the origami figures left on their bodies.“Both within the past few days.”
Kim sank into the chair, his hands trembling slightly.“This is...I can’t believe it.They were good students, both of them.Very engaged in the material.”
“Which brings us to an important question,” Ann Marie said gently.“Why did you run when we called?Why are you packing to leave now?”
Kim looked away.“I cannot say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”Riley pressed.
“Please understand, it is...complicated.”
Ann Marie leaned forward slightly, her voice softening further.“Mr.Kim, are you afraid of being deported?”
Kim’s shoulders slumped in defeat.“Yes,” he whispered.“My visa expired three months ago.I applied for an extension, but the process is very slow.When you called—FBI—I panicked.I thought perhaps someone had reported me.”
The pieces clicked into place for Riley.Kim’s fear hadn’t been about the murders; it had been about his immigration status.
“I have an apartment lined up with a friend in Baltimore,” he continued, his words tumbling out now.“Just until my paperwork is processed.I would never have left otherwise.”
While Ann Marie stepped aside to make a call—presumably to check on Kim’s immigration status—Riley turned her attention back to the connections between Kim and the victims.
“Mr.Kim, we were told by Mae Simmons, another student of yours, that you recommended Marcus Berridge’s origami therapy to your class.Is that correct?”
Kim frowned slightly.“That is not exactly what happened.I did not specifically recommend Mr.Berridge.In one class, I was discussing various applications of origami beyond mathematics—art, engineering, even therapy.I mentioned that I had seen online that a local therapist was using origami techniques.I gave the class the website address.That was all.”
“So you don’t know Berridge personally?”Riley asked.
