“Special Agent Paige,” she said, a thin smile touching her lips.“I should have known you’d find me.You always did have an intuitive understanding of cases that went beyond procedure.”
“This ends now, Sarah,” Riley replied, her weapon trained steadily on the former evidence technician.“Release Olga.”
Sarah’s smile faded.“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”She gestured toward the device connected to the needle in Olga’s arm.“This mechanism is set to inject a lethal dose of succinylcholine in—” she glanced at the timer, “—180 seconds.It’s rigged with multiple redundancies.”
Riley took a careful step forward, her eyes never leaving Sarah’s.“Disable it.”
“I can’t,” Sarah replied, displaying her empty hands in a gesture of helplessness.“Even I can’t remove the needle without triggering immediate injection.You can try to save her now and guarantee her death, or you can wait 170 seconds for the inevitable.The same impossible choice I faced ten years ago.”
“There’s another choice,” Riley said, keeping her voice level.“The code for the keypad in the warehouse.You can give it to me.”
“Why would I do that?”Sarah asked, genuine curiosity in her tone.
Riley recognized the standoff for what it was—not just a physical confrontation, but an ideological one.Sarah Mitchell was convinced of her righteousness, a woman whose moral compass had been shattered by an impossible choice.
“Because I understand,” Riley said, lowering her weapon slightly.“Early in my career with the Bureau, I faced a similar dilemma.Not as dire as yours, but enough to haunt me.It was a murder case in Richmond.Strong evidence against the suspect, but one witness’s identification was inconsistent.Following protocol, I reported the inconsistency to the prosecutor.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed, interest breaking through her detachment.
“The DA dropped the charges,” Riley continued.“The suspect walked free.I’ve never known if I let a killer escape justice by following the rules instead of trusting my gut.”The timer showed 113 seconds.“So I understand the trap you found yourself in, Sarah.The choice that had no good answer.”
“Then you understand why people need to see the price of rigid adherence to procedure when moral certainty demands action.”
“What I understand,” Riley countered, “is that for every case with an irresolvable dilemma, there are dozens—hundreds—where the ethical and moral stakes are clear.Where bringing a wrongdoer to justice is both procedurally correct and morally right.”She took another careful step forward.“Those are the cases that redeem all the others.”
The timer ticked past ten more seconds.Olga’s breathing had accelerated to short, panicked gasps behind her gag.
“You’ve made your point, Sarah,” Riley continued, her voice gentle now despite the urgency of the moment.“You’ve demonstrated the finger trap that destroyed your life.But you’ve also left us a path to find you.Part of you wants this to end differently than your own story did.”
Something shifted in Sarah’s expression—a slight softening around her eyes, a tremor at the corner of her mouth.
“You want to be caught,” Riley pressed.“You want to be stopped before a fourth innocent woman dies.Because deep down, you’re still the dedicated evidence technician who joined the Bureau to protect people, not harm them.”
Thirty seconds remained on the timer.Olga had gone completely still, as though her body had accepted what her mind could not.
“Tell me the code, Sarah,” Riley said softly.“Let this one life be saved.”
Sarah remained motionless, her gaze fixed on Riley with an intensity that seemed to transcend the physical space between them.Then, just as the timer reached three seconds, she spoke.
“Eight-four-seven-six,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.“The last four digits of Cindy Hoffman’s social security number.”
Riley didn’t waste a precious second questioning the information.She holstered her weapon and pulled out her phone, dialing Brookman with trembling fingers.
“Eight-four-seven-six,” she said the moment he answered.“The code is eight-four-seven-six.”
Brookman’s voice came through, sharp with tension.“Got it.”
Riley could hear him relaying the code to the officers in the warehouse.On the device connected to Olga’s arm, the timer froze at one second, then reset to zero without triggering the injection.
A sob of relief broke from Olga’s throat as Riley moved to remove her gag and begin working on the zip ties.
“It’s over,” Riley said, though whether to Olga or to Sarah, even she wasn’t certain.“Sarah Mitchell, you’re under arrest for the murders of Rachel Bennett, Brittany Hall, and Patricia Walsh.”
Sarah held out her wrists without resistance, palms upward in a gesture of surrender.The finger trap had loosened, just enough for one woman to escape its grip.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Riley stood at her bedroom window, watching late afternoon sunlight filter through the oak trees that lined their quiet street.The day after closing a case always brought a peculiar mixture of relief and emptiness—that familiar hollow space where purpose had resided now drained away, leaving room for normal life to seep back in.But normal had become a relative term since Leo Dillard had fixated on her.The Origami Killer was in custody, but the threat that kept her awake at night remained at large.
