“Just as her message suggested,” Ann Marie observed as she parked the vehicle.“She’s been out here gardening.”
Despite the urgency of their visit, Riley felt a moment of hesitation at interrupting the tranquil scene.But the two agents got out of their car and followed the flagstone path that curved through a front yard more abundant with herbs and vegetables than decorative plants.Elaine looked up at their approach, shading her eyes against the late afternoon sun.
Riley saw that Elaine hadn’t changed much in the decades since she’d first seen her command a room of eager trainees—still tall and straight-backed even as she approached seventy, still radiating that particular blend of intelligence and warmth that had made her such an effective teacher.
Recognition flickered across Elaine’s features, followed by a smile that erased years from her face.
“Riley Paige,” she said, rising from her knees with a grace that belied her age.She pulled off gardening gloves, revealing hands strong and nimble from decades of both forensic work and practical hobbies.“This is an unexpected pleasure.”Her keen blue eyes shifted to Ann Marie, curiosity evident but not unwelcoming.
“Elaine,” Riley returned the smile, though hers felt tight with the tension she carried.“I’m sorry to drop by unannounced.I tried calling, but—”
“Left my phone inside,” Elaine finished, gesturing toward the house.“One of the benefits of retirement—I can ignore technology whenever I please.”Her gaze sharpened, reading the urgency in Riley’s posture.“But I suspect this isn’t a social call.”
“No,” Riley confirmed.“This is my partner, Special Agent Ann Marie Esmer.We’re here about a case.A series of murders in DC.”
Elaine’s smile faded.She nodded toward a canvas bag full of freshly harvested tomatoes, bell peppers, and what appeared to summer zucchini.
“Let me wash up, and we’ll talk inside.Would you mind bringing that in?I was just finishing up.”
Ann Marie stepped forward, lifting the bag.“Happy to help, ma’am.”
“Elaine, please,” the older woman corrected gently.“Only judges and drill sergeants are ‘ma’am’ in my book.”
She led them up three wooden steps to a wraparound porch dotted with comfortable rocking chairs and potted herbs.The front door opened into a welcoming living room where bookshelves lined every available wall, interrupted only by windows and artwork—mostly landscapes and botanical studies.The space reflected its owner: orderly but not rigid, intellectual but not sterile.
“Through to the kitchen,” Elaine directed, already rolling up her sleeves at a utility sink in a small mudroom.“Make yourselves comfortable.I’ll just be a moment.”
Ann Marie carried the vegetables to the kitchen counter while Riley took in the space.Like the rest of the house, Elaine’s kitchen balanced function and comfort—professional-grade appliances alongside handmade pottery and well-worn cookbooks.A large wooden table occupied the center of the room, its surface bearing the marks of decades of use.
“Tea?”Elaine called from the mudroom, over the sound of running water.
“That would be great,” Riley answered, settling into one of the chairs at the table.Ann Marie joined her, eyes still taking in the details of the home.
Elaine appeared moments later, hands clean, her gardening apron exchanged for a simple cardigan.She moved efficiently around the kitchen, filling a kettle and setting it on the stove, then retrieving a wooden box of tea bags and three mugs.
“Now,” she said, turning to face them fully, “tell me about these murders.”
Riley met Elaine’s direct gaze.“Three victims in the past week.All women, all killed the same way—injected with succinylcholine, which paralyzed them but left them conscious until death.Each body was carefully positioned, staged to look peaceful, almost meditative.”She paused.“And each one was left holding an origami figure.”
Elaine’s eyebrows rose slightly.“Origami?That’s...distinctive.”
“That’s not even the most distinctive part,” Riley continued as the kettle began to whistle.“Each origami piece contained a message or a challenge for investigators.”
Elaine turned to remove the kettle, pouring steaming water into a teapot.She brought the pot and mugs to the table, then sat across from Riley and Ann Marie.“Tell me about these messages,” she said, her voice taking on the analytical tone Riley remembered from her lectures.
Riley withdrew her phone, pulling up the crime scene photos Brookman had forwarded.“The first victim, Brittany Hall, was found holding an origami fan.When unfolded, it contained a written warning: ‘Do not unfold.’“ She passed the phone to Elaine, who studied that image.
“The second victim, Rachel Bennett, had an origami crane,” Riley continued as Elaine swiped to the next photo.“Following the warning from the first scene, we tried to preserve it intact.But when forensics eventually attempted to unfold it, the paper disintegrated immediately—it had been treated with some kind of solution that made it extremely fragile.”
Elaine looked up from the phone.“So the killer created a no-win scenario for investigators—ignore the potential message inside, or destroy it by trying to access it.”She nodded slightly.“Clever.Manipulative.”
“Exactly,” Ann Marie confirmed.“It forces investigators to make an impossible choice.”
“The third victim was found just this morning,” Riley said as Elaine poured the tea into three mugs.“Patricia Walsh.She was holding an origami swan.This time, I made the decision to unfold it, believing the pattern had shifted.”
“And had it?”Elaine asked, pushing a mug toward each of them.
Riley nodded.“The swan wasn’t treated.It unfolded normally, revealing a message: ‘You don’t know, do you?’“
