“No, never met him.”Kim shook his head emphatically.“I only know what I saw on his website.It seemed an interesting application of the art form.”
“Were you close with either Rachel Bennett or Brittany Hall outside of class?”
“No,” Kim replied.“They were students only.Good students who seemed to find peace in the folding.I noticed they often stayed after class to practice.But our relationship was strictly professional.”
Riley nodded, believing him.Before she could ask another question, Ann Marie returned, a smile softening her features.
“I have some good news, Mr.Kim,” she said.“I just spoke with an agent I know at USCIS.Your application has been processed and approved.They were planning to notify you within the week.”
Kim’s eyes widened.“Truly?It is approved?”
“Truly,” Ann Marie confirmed.“You don’t need to hide in Baltimore after all.”
Relief washed over Kim’s features, tears actually gathering in his eyes.“Thank you,” he whispered.“Thank you.”
Riley and Ann Marie left shortly after, leaving Kim to unpack his hastily loaded car.
“He’s not our killer,” Riley said as she pulled the car away from the curb, turning toward downtown DC.
“No,” Ann Marie agreed.“His shock was genuine.”
“Call Brookman,” Riley instructed.“Let’s meet at Metropolitan Police Headquarters to debrief and review what we know.”
As Ann Marie made the call, Riley stared at the road ahead, her mind churning.They had secured Mae Simmons’s safety with protective officers, but the uncomfortable truth remained—they still had no idea who the killer was.Only a name—Fawn Waller—that was almost certainly fictitious.Somewhere in this city, that person was moving through their day, perhaps already selecting their next target, already folding the paper that would become their signature.
Time was running out.They needed to find Fawn Waller before someone else died.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Scattered fragments of the case tumbled through Riley’s mind as she drove toward home.The day’s work with Ann Marie had yielded plenty of details but precious little clarity.Now, with evening settling over the city, Riley found herself no closer to understanding the origami killer’s identity than she’d been that morning.
Ten minutes ago, she’d dropped Ann Marie off at her apartment building.Earlier, they’d spent hours dissecting questions with Detective Brookman—laying out crime scene photos across a conference table, examining each one methodically, hunting for connections they might have overlooked.
“The problem is,” Brookman had said, “we’ve got a killer who knows exactly what they’re doing.No DNA, no fibers, nothing personal left behind except these damn paper birds.”His frustration had matched Riley’s own.“It’s like this one has carefully studied how not to get caught.”
After leaving Brookman, she and Ann Marie had compiled everything they’d learned into a report for Brent Meredith.When they’d phoned him at Quantico, Meredith had listened to it all intently.Finally, he’d said, “So what you’re telling me is that we have a killer who’s not only methodical but adaptable.Someone with access to therapy sessions and enough technical knowledge to cover their digital tracks.And they’re targeting patients with impulse control problems, which could be just about anyone in therapy these days.”
Riley had agreed, even while hating the summary because of its stark truth.“We’re pursuing every angle, Chief.We’re sure of one thing at this point—’Fawn Waller’ isn’t a real name, but a construct designed to misdirect us.”
Meredith had replied, “I don’t need to tell you how this looks, Paige.Two victims already, and we’ve got nothing substantial.More people could be in danger, and the press is going to be all over this one soon.”
A horn blared behind her, startling Riley out of her reverie.The light had turned green.She accelerated, silently chastising herself for the momentary lapse in attention.
Her phone conversation with Sam Flores had been equally frustrating.“Tell me something good, Sam,” she’d said.But the BAU lab technician’s earlier worries about examining Berridge’s computer were confirmed.
“Wish I could,” he’d replied.“This ‘Fawn Waller’ is giving us the runaround.Multiple login locations, all public access points—coffee shops, libraries, a hotel business center.”He’d pointed to a digital map with markers scattered across the D.C.area.“We’re working with local police to pull security footage from each location, but so far, it’s a mess.Too many people coming and going, and our suspect clearly knows how to avoid showing their face to cameras.We’re not seeing the same person turn up repeatedly.”
“What about any actual account?”Riley had asked.“Registration details, payment information?”
Sam had shaken his head.“Prepaid credit card purchased with cash.The registration information leads to a PO Box rented months ago—also paid in cash, with a fake ID.It’s no longer in use.Whoever this is, they planned carefully.”
Now, as Riley turned onto her street, she found that last conversation the most discouraging of all.Planning.Careful execution.No mistakes, no emotional outbursts, no signature beyond the origami itself.It was the perfect criminal profile—which meant it told her almost nothing about the killer as a person.
She pulled into her parking spot in front of her townhouse, cutting the engine but making no move to exit the vehicle.The house lights glowed welcomingly through the windows, promising warmth and normalcy.Yet Riley couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something crucial, some thread that would unravel the entire mystery if only she could grasp it.
Two victims.Two origami figures, carefully folded.Two therapy patients with impulse control issues.
And somewhere out there, a killer who seemed to know exactly what they were doing—possibly preparing to strike again.
