“Detective Brookman is inside,” he said.“Center of the main floor.”
The interior of the warehouse was cavernous, with high ceilings disappearing into shadows beyond the reach of the portable lights the police had set up.Metal support columns rose at regular intervals, their surfaces mottled with rust and peeling paint.Despite the apparent abandonment, the floor had been swept clean in the center.
Brookman stood with several officers in a loose circle around something placed on a folding table in the middle of the cleared space.He looked up as Riley and Ann Marie approached, his expression tighter than usual, lines of stress evident around his eyes.
“Paige,” he greeted, stepping back to make room for them.“Esmer.Glad you made it.”
“What have we got?”Riley asked, her eyes already fixed on the table’s contents.
“A nightmare,” Brookman replied, gesturing to the setup before them.
In the center of the metal table sat what appeared to be a simple square plate of brushed steel, perhaps four inches across.Resting on this plate was an origami dragon—intricately folded from deep crimson paper, its form capturing the sinuous curve of the mythical creature.Beside the plate, a small numeric keypad had been wired to what looked like a timer display showing 11:50.A handwritten notecard propped against the keypad read simply: “DANGEROUS TO TOUCH.”
“We arrived ten minutes ago,” Brookman explained, checking his watch.“Found this setup exactly as you see it.Given what’s happened with the other origami pieces in this case, none of us have touched a thing.”He paused, fishing something from his pocket.“This was also on the table.”
He held out a plain white envelope with “for Riley Paige” written across it in the same precise handwriting as the warning card.Brookman’s hands were already gloved; Riley quickly pulled on a pair of her own latex gloves before accepting it.
Riley studied the envelope in her hands.Sarah Mitchell had orchestrated everything leading to this moment—the murders, the clues, the finger trap message.This was the culmination of her design.
She opened the envelope carefully, aware of the eyes watching her every move.Inside was a folded sheet of paper and a photograph.Riley removed the photo first, holding it where Ann Marie could see it as well.
The image showed a woman with dark hair—presumably Olga Swinson—bound to a chair with zip ties.Her eyes were wide with terror above a gag.A hypodermic needle was visibly inserted into her arm, attached to what appeared to be some kind of timing mechanism.The setting was nondescript—a sparsely furnished apartment with blinds drawn over the windows.
“My God,” Ann Marie whispered.
Riley unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the precise handwriting.
“Special Agent Paige,” she read aloud.“By now, you’ve likely figured out who I am.Perhaps Elaine Cooper helped you make the connection—she always was an excellent teacher.Now it’s my turn to teach you something about impossible choices and their consequences.”
Riley paused, glancing at the timer display.11:48.Then she continued reading.
“The woman in the photograph is Olga Swinson.The hypodermic needle in her arm contains a lethal dose of succinylcholine.It is rigged to inject precisely at 12:00 noon today.The only way to deactivate this device is to punch in a four-digit code on the keypad.That code is written inside the origami dragon.”
Riley looked up, meeting Brookman’s gaze before returning to the note.
“Here’s your dilemma, Agent Paige: The dragon cannot be moved from the pressure plate without triggering immediate injection.It cannot be unfolded without the same result.I myself cannot remove the needle without triggering it.Only the correct code entered in the keypad will prevent Olga’s death.What will you do?Follow procedure and watch an innocent woman die?Or risk taking action that might hasten her death?The choice is yours.You have until noon.—Sarah Mitchell.”
A heavy silence fell over the group as the implications sank in.Riley studied the origami dragon, noting its precise folds, the delicate balance that kept it perched on the pressure plate.
“It’s 11:50,” Brookman said, breaking the silence.“Even if I call in specialists, they’ll never get here in time.We can’t disarm it, we can’t move it, we can’t unfold it.”Frustration edged his voice.“It’s a no-win scenario.”
“That’s the point,” Riley said quietly.“Sarah wants us to experience exactly what she did—a choice where both options lead to disaster.”She circled the table slowly, examining the setup from all angles.“The origami is too complex to quickly reverse-engineer.The code could be anything.”
“Could we get a fiber optic camera to peek inside without disturbing it?”Ann Marie suggested.
“Not in...”Brookman checked his watch again, “...the time we’ve got left.And we don’t know how sensitive that pressure plate is.”
Riley stood motionless, scanning the warehouse interior.Despite the thorough search conducted by the officers, they were missing something.She stood still and let the sense of the killer’s mind flood her awareness.
We’re being observed.
She knew it was not through any technological means, but by the eyes of the one who had planned this moment.Without speaking, Riley turned and headed toward the warehouse entrance.Ann Marie and Brookman exchanged a glance before following.
Directly across the street stood an old apartment building, five stories.
“She’s watching us,” Riley said.“Right now.From one of those apartments.”
Brookman followed her gaze, skepticism evident.“That’s a guess, Paige.We don’t have time for guesses.”He glanced at his watch.“We’ve got four minutes to figure this out, or that woman dies.”
