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Bill leaned forward and gave her a look that was equal parts challenge and encouragement.“What did you lecture about today?”

The question caught her off guard.“The case,” she admitted, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks.“I used it as an example for my students—how investigations can take unexpected turns.”

“See?”Bill flashed a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling.“That’s proof right there.Teaching and field work—they’re not mutually exclusive.One informs the other.Continuing to work cases will only sharpen your skills in the classroom.”

She spent a few moments considering Bill’s words.There was a quiet comfort in their shared understanding, in the way he always seemed to know just what to say to nudge her past her hesitations.

“You’re encouraging me to straddle both worlds,” she murmured.

“Isn’t that where you excel?”He reached for his drink, then continued.“I don’t see any reason to confine your unusual insights to just one aspect of your life.That kind of skill is also something that students need to see at work as it happens.Who else can help them best develop their own potentials — whatever they might be?”

She studied his face, seeing the unwavering belief he had in her range of abilities.It was a belief she sometimes struggled to share, but in moments like this, his support buoyed her.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said quietly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.It felt good to be understood, to have someone in her corner who saw her potential as limitless.

“You’re right, I can handle both,” she announced with newfound resolve.“First thing next week, I’m going to ask Brent Meredith to keep assigning me to occasional field cases.”

*

Leo Dillard’s fingers tapped a silent rhythm on the surface of his desk, the only movement in the otherwise still room.His apartment was shrouded in darkness except for the pale glow of a desk lamp pooling light onto the array of papers spread before him.The quiet hum of the city outside his window did nothing to relieve his solitude.

As he went over each documented detail about Riley’s family, he imagined her in her own home, warm and filled with a family that he observed but could never be part of.He could, however, learn their movements, their habits, their weaknesses.

Leo’s eyes lingered on a printout detailing April’s college schedule at Jefferson Bell University, every class and professor noted with care.He had already established a presence there, one that offered a wide range of possibilities.

On another page, Bill’s routines were laid out in neat bullet points, the predictability fueling Leo’s sense of control.The young one, Jilly, was easy to track through the high school calendar, and now he just had to record her after-school activities.

These preliminary notes were just the beginning, a foundation upon which Leo intended to build his masterpiece.It wasn’t the schedules or the routines that enthralled him; it was the challenge of getting inside someone’s head, understanding the cogs and wheels of their inner workings.

Riley Paige had taught him well, especially her lectures on the human psyche.

Each family member had become a subject for Leo, a case study to dissect and analyze.He pondered April’s youthful optimism, how it might be twisted by fear.Jilly’s innocence, a canvas waiting to be stained.And Bill, a pillar of strength that could be eroded with doubt.These profiles were the keys to unraveling Riley’s life, thread by thread.

He lingered a moment on the edge of April’s file before he closed it with a decisive snap.The dim light from the solitary desk lamp cast long shadows across his face, as if to underscore the duality of his intentions.He pulled a fresh notebook towards him, the spine cracking faintly as he opened it to the first blank page.This was more than a new chapter; it was a pivot point in his meticulous game.

The silence of the apartment wrapped around Leo like a cloak as he paused in his writing, reflecting on the path laid out before him.His gaze drifted momentarily to the window, where the city’s pulse twinkled distantly, oblivious to the drama unfolding within these walls.Then, back to the task at hand.He flipped through the notebook, reviewing the steps he’d delineated.

Leo’s plan was still a work in progress.Just determining a course of action required patience, a slow build-up that would tighten the screws of tension without release.He sketched out scenarios, branching possibilities that accounted for various reactions.Each hypothetical situation was crafted to push and prod at Riley’s vulnerabilities, to exploit the cracks in her armor.He imagined her trying to piece together the puzzle, always two steps behind, her instincts ensnared by the web he was weaving.

“Anticipation,” he murmured to himself, “is as potent a tool as action.”He savored the word, letting its meaning permeate his senses.For Leo, anticipation was the undercurrent that would erode Riley’s composure, an invisible force that would chip away at her family’s security.

Now was the time for subtlety, for planting seeds that would blossom into chaos at just the right moment.And then…

Leo felt a rush of pleasure at what he anticipated lay ahead.