Page 17 of Once Marked (Riley Paige #19)

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in class,” April murmured. She reached for her tray, the mundane action grounding her. Leo offered an earnest nod, his shy smile a gentle acknowledgment of the time they’d spent together.

“Definitely. And maybe we can grab coffee sometime? To study, I mean.”

“Sure, that sounds great.” April’s response came almost reflexively, her head nodding before she could process the invitation. “See you around, Leo.”

Taking measured steps toward the collection point, April felt the heaviness of her past burdens lighten with each stride. Her tray clattered as she placed it on the stack.

Making a friend like Leo, someone who straddled the realms of academia and ambition just as she did, was not something she had anticipated in these early days of her college life.

That he too understood the experience of unusual struggles and strong aspirations made their meeting all the more significant.

As she made her way outside, April felt the glow of accomplishment.

She had ventured out of her comfort zone, conversing with a near stranger, and in doing so, had discovered a kindred spirit.

Today, her turbulent history—the drugs, the kidnapping, the fight with a would-be killer, that one accidental gunshot—did not taint her college experience.

This pleasant exchange with someone who knew nothing of all that made her feel more comfortable on campus.

*

Leo felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he watched April make her way out of the cafeteria. He had played his part flawlessly, projecting the image of the modest, diligent student who just happened to cross paths with April. In reality, nothing about their meeting had been left to chance.

Doubt momentarily crossed his mind as he considered the slip-up.

He’d let April know his real name—Leo Dillard—an error that could easily ripple back to her mother if mentioned in passing conversation.

But he had used his own identity to sign up to audit the class, and the name had come out automatically.

He shoved the worry aside with the ease of a practiced deceiver.

Should it come back to haunt him, he’d find a solution; he always did.

Leo also left the cafeteria and settled onto an outdoor bench.

He slipped a hand into his jacket, withdrew a well-worn leather notebook, and flipped past pages dense with notes, observations – the lifeblood of his intricate plans.

He landed on an untouched sheet, and pulled out a pen to continue his notes from this morning: the lilt of April’s laugh, the specific queries she posed about campus life at Jefferson Bell University, all noted with an almost clinical detachment.

He even captured the small, unconscious gestures, like the way she brushed her dark hair behind her ear, so reminiscent of her mother’s own habits.

He recalled each observation, how he’d cataloged her schedule, her likes and dislikes, down to the very bench she favored on campus—the one he was sitting on now.

This documentation was more than mere record-keeping; this reconnaissance allowed him to craft each perfect encounter, one seemingly shaped by serendipity rather than the meticulous designs of a predator hiding in plain sight.

He closed his notebook, concealing the blueprint of his ruse within its pages. The groundwork was laid, and now the real game could begin. A game where every move brought him one step closer to entwining himself within April’s world – and, by extension, Riley Paige’s.

His mind worked through scenarios, each more elaborate than the last, but he found comfort in the challenge.

It was a game of chess, and he was already several moves ahead.

His adversary remained unaware of his position on the board, and that was an advantage he intended to keep.

Yes, there were many faces Leo Dillard could wear, and he relished the chance to don whichever guise would serve him best when the time came.

In his mind’s eye, he envisioned the connections he would form—learning the nuances of April’s relationship with her sister Jilly, understanding the dynamics between Riley Paige and her partner Bill Jeffreys, mapping out their domestic routines as if they were his own.

Each thread was vital, each knot critical to holding the structure together until it was time to unravel it all in one swift, decisive act.

He pictured the townhouse in Fredericksburg, visualizing its layout. Pretending to be a prospective renter, he’d toured another in the complex, one with the same interior design, and he knew his way around it well.

With a swift motion, Leo snapped the notebook shut, its secrets safe within the leather confines.

Rising from the bench, he became just another student, his presence as unremarkable as the backpack slung over his shoulder.

He stifled a dark chuckle. His intentions were a far cry from academic pursuits, and his meticulously crafted plans were moving along perfectly.