Gabriela stood at the kitchen counter, already dressed in her customary slacks and blouse, her salt-and-pepper hair neatly pinned back.She turned at Riley’s approach, her experienced eyes taking in the agent’s appearance with one swift assessment.
“Another murder?”she asked, reaching for a second mug without waiting for confirmation.
“Yes,” Riley said, grateful for the routine they’d established over the years.“A body in Liberty Meadows Park.I need to meet Ann Marie and get there as soon as possible.”
Gabriela nodded, pouring coffee into a travel mug and securing its lid before handing it to Riley.“I will make sure Jilly gets to school safely and on time,” she said, answering the question Riley hadn’t needed to ask.“And I will tell her you had an early call.”
“Thank you,” Riley said, the simple phrase carrying the years of shared understanding.In many ways, Gabriela was as much a partner in raising April and now Jilly as Riley herself—the steady presence who maintained the household’s equilibrium when Riley was pulled away by the demands of her work.
“I made banana bread yesterday,” Gabriela said, already reaching for a cloth-lined basket on the counter.She wrapped a thick slice in a napkin and pressed it into Riley’s free hand.“You need to eat something.”
The simple gesture—so characteristic of Gabriela’s practical care—brought a rush of gratitude.“You’re a lifesaver,” Riley said, meaning it literally on more occasions than she could count.
Gabriela waved away the thanks.“Go.Catch whoever is doing these terrible things.”
Riley nodded, clutching the coffee in one hand and the bread in the other, her bag on an arm, as she headed toward the front door.She paused only long enough to check that the security system was still armed, a habit that had become more pronounced since Leo had begun his twisted obsession with her.The small green light confirmed that their electronic defenses remained intact.
As she stepped outside into the pre-dawn chill, Riley took a moment to survey the quiet street.Nothing seemed out of place—no unfamiliar vehicles, no shadowy figures lurking between houses.Yet the feeling of being watched, of being hunted, had become so familiar that its absence would have been more notable than its presence.
She unlocked her car and slid behind the wheel, placing the coffee in the cupholder and the banana bread on the passenger seat for later.As she backed out of the driveway, her mind was already racing ahead to Liberty Meadows Park, to the body waiting there, to the origami swan and what it might reveal about the killer they sought.
Driving through streets that were already beginning to fill with traffic, Riley forced herself to compartmentalize—to push thoughts of Leo Dillard into a locked corner of her mind where they couldn’t contaminate her focus on the immediate case.There was no space now for personal fears, no matter how justified.Three women were dead, their bodies posed and marked with folded paper.Somewhere in the city, a killer walked free, perhaps already selecting victim number four.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The usual tranquility of Liberty Meadows Park had been shattered by the flashing lights of police vehicles and the restless energy of a crime scene.Early morning sunlight filtered through the park’s ancient oaks, casting dappled shadows across the gathering of uniformed officers and yellow tape that marked another life cut short.As Riley guided her car along the access road, she was dismayed by the sight of news vans parked haphazardly near the northwest entrance.
“News travels fast,” Ann Marie murmured, glaring at the cluster of reporters with their microphones and cameras at the ready, drawn to the scene of tragedy.
Riley nodded grimly.“Third victim.Same MO.The press was bound to catch on eventually.”She pulled into a space currently reserved for law enforcement, killing the engine with a sharp twist of her wrist.They exited the vehicle in unison, badges already in hand as they approached the edge of the park where the collection of journalists had congregated.A woman in a tailored blazer spotted them first.
“Are you an FBI agent?”she called, stepping directly into Riley’s path.
“Let me by,” Riley replied sharply, moving past her.
But the woman was insistent.“I’m Jennifer Sloane, with Channel 7 News.Can you confirm that this is the work of the same killer responsible for the deaths of Rachel Bennett and Brittany Hall?”
Riley kept her face neutral, moving on without acknowledging the question.Ann Marie stayed close beside her, their shoulders nearly touching as they navigated through the press of bodies.
“Is it true that all victims were found with origami figures?”another voice shouted, a microphone suddenly thrust toward Riley’s face.“Does the FBI believe these are serial killings?”
The questions continued, a barrage of speculation and demand that Riley had learned long ago to filter into background noise.She walked steadily ahead, refusing to provide the sound bites they craved.
Their progress was nearly halted when a burly cameraman stepped directly into their path, his lens trained on Riley’s face.She felt her muscles tense, the familiar flare of irritation rising in her chest.Before she could speak, Ann Marie placed a gentle hand on the camera, firmly redirecting it away from them.
“The FBI has no comment at this time,” the younger agent stated clearly, her tone polite but leaving no room for negotiation.“Please respect the integrity of this investigation.”
The momentary distraction was enough for Riley to sidestep the remaining journalists, ducking under the police tape.Ann Marie followed, and they both exhaled slightly once they crossed that threshold into the controlled environment of the crime scene.
Detective Brookman stood several yards ahead, deep in conversation with a uniformed officer.His shoulders were hunched, his expression pinched with the particular strain of a case gaining unwanted publicity.When he spotted Riley and Ann Marie, he excused himself from the conversation and strode toward them.
“You made it through the sharks,” he observed, nodding toward the reporters hovering at the perimeter.“They showed up about twenty minutes ago.Someone at dispatch must have tipped them off.”
“What do we know?”Riley asked, focusing on the reason they were standing in a park so early in the morning.
Brookman gestured toward a massive oak tree where several figures in ME jackets were clustered around what Riley presumed was their victim.“Patricia Walsh, thirty-four, paralegal at Haddon and Mills.Body was discovered at approximately 6:30 this morning by a local resident walking her dog.”
“Not Mae Simmons,” Riley remarked.The killer had left alone the woman they’d gone to so much trouble to keep safe, claiming instead a victim they’d failed to predict.
