But Daisy, sixteen pounds of sudden stubborn determination, dug her paws into the path and refused to budge.
“What’s gotten into you?”Margaret’s annoyance fluttered at the edges of her voice.Sixty years of conditioning had taught her patience—with children, with colleagues, with the various disappointments life had dealt her—but at this hour, with caffeine still an unfulfilled promise, her reserves were limited.“Come along now.”
But the dog pulled harder, her collar straining against her throat, a low whine building in her chest.
“Daisy?”Concern replaced irritation as Margaret knelt beside her companion.The dog’s eyes were fixed on something beyond the trees, her entire body trembling.“What is it, girl?What do you see?”
The whimpering was punctuated by small, forceful tugs toward the grove.Margaret straightened, squinting into the shadows between the trees.The rising sun had not yet penetrated this corner of the park, leaving it wrapped in gray half-light and morning mist.Nothing moved there—no squirrels to chase, no other dogs to greet—just stillness and silence.
Despite the encroaching daylight, this secluded grove suddenly felt removed from the safety of the familiar world.But Daisy was persistent in tugging toward those trees.
“Alright,” Margaret sighed, relenting.“Let’s see what’s troubling you.”
She allowed Daisy to lead her off the path, stepping carefully over exposed roots and fallen branches.The ground was soft beneath her sneakers, cushioned with years of decomposing leaves.As they moved deeper into the grove, the ambient sounds of morning traffic faded, replaced by the subtle creaking of branches overhead and Daisy’s increasingly agitated breathing.
The dog stopped abruptly at the edge of a small clearing dominated by a massive oak, its trunk so wide that Margaret couldn’t have encircled it with her arms.Daisy’s whimpering quieted to a series of small, distressed sounds, her body pressed against Margaret’s ankles as if seeking reassurance.
That’s when Margaret saw her—a woman seated at the base of the great oak, back resting against its rough bark.Her posture was peaceful, almost meditative, head tilted slightly as if she’d dozed off while contemplating the canopy above.Dark hair framed a face that even in the dim light appeared young, perhaps in her early thirties.Her hands were folded in her lap, cradling what looked like a delicate paper swan, its white surface luminous against the woman’s dark clothing.
“Oh!”Margaret’s surprise emerged as a soft exclamation.“I’m so sorry to disturb you.”
The woman didn’t stir.Didn’t blink.Didn’t acknowledge Margaret’s presence in any way.
“Miss?”Margaret ventured again, taking a tentative step closer.“Are you alright?”
There was no reply.
Something cold and leaden settled in Margaret’s stomach as she pulled out her flashlight, turned it on, and moved close enough to see the woman’s face clearly for the first time.
Her skin was the bloodless white of marble, lips tinged blue, eyes open but vacant—staring at nothing, seeing nothing.No rise and fall of breath disturbed the perfect stillness of her chest.The paper swan in her hands—exquisitely folded from what appeared to be pristine white paper—remained motionless despite the gentle morning breeze that stirred the leaves overhead.
“Oh, God,” Margaret whispered, instinctively reaching for her phone.Her hands trembled as she dialed 911, her eyes unable to leave the woman’s face—young, peaceful, and utterly, irrevocably still.The emergency dispatcher’s voice seemed to come from miles away as Margaret struggled to describe where she was, what she had found.
*
The harsh chirp of Riley’s phone sliced through the darkness, dragging her from a dreamless sleep into instant alertness.She reached for it reflexively, squinting at the glowing screen that read 6:32 a.m.and displayed Brookman’s name.Only one reason for the detective to call at this hour—the origami killer had struck again.
Riley pressed the phone to her ear, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed.“Paige,” she answered, her voice clear despite the early hour.Years in the FBI had conditioned her to wake completely in seconds, to transition from unconsciousness to decision-making without the luxury of adjustment.
“We’ve got another one.”Brookman’s voice was tight, clipped.No need to specify what he meant.“Liberty Meadows Park, northwest section.A woman walking her dog found the body about twenty minutes ago.”
Riley closed her eyes briefly.A third victim, despite their efforts, despite the protective detail they’d arranged for Mae Simmons.
“Cause of death?”
“Can’t confirm yet, but it has all the hallmarks.Female victim, no signs of struggle, and—” Brookman hesitated, “—there’s an origami figure.A swan, according to the first responding officer.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Riley said, already mentally mapping the fastest route to Liberty Meadows Park.“Have you called Agent Esmer?”
“Just got off the phone with her.She’s expecting you to pick her up at her apartment.”
“On my way,” Riley ended the call and flicked on the bedside lamp.
The sudden illumination revealed a bedroom meticulously organized—a necessary counterbalance to the chaos Riley confronted in her work.She dressed quickly, selecting dark slacks and a charcoal blazer that would be practical for a long day at an outdoor crime scene.No time for a shower; she combed her hair hastily, splashed cold water on her face, and applied the minimal makeup that had become her professional armor—just enough to hide the shadows beneath her eyes, remnants of too many interrupted nights and haunting cases.
Her movements were efficient, her mind already shifting into analytical mode.Three victims now, each with an origami figure placed on their body.The first, a fan with the message “Do Not Unfold.”The second, a crane designed to disintegrate when touched.And now, apparently, a swan.The killer was communicating something through these choices.Fans, cranes, swans—each figure held symbolic meaning in origami traditions.Each was becoming more complex, more sophisticated.What would the paper design tell them this time?
Riley checked her weapon and badge, then grabbed her phone from the nightstand.A text from Ann Marie confirmed she was awake and waiting.As Riley descended the stairs, she caught the scent of coffee brewing—a reminder that in her household, she wasn’t the only early riser.
