Page 2 of Once Marked (Riley Paige #19)

The sun was on its descent as Riley Paige steered her FBI-issued black sedan away from Quantico. Another day at the Academy had come to an end, another day of teaching those who had been accepted into that very demanding training program.

She let out a slow breath, trying to leave behind the lectures about criminal minds along with the responsibilities of shaping future agents, focusing on the road ahead, the familiar highway that led home to Fredericksburg.

It had been two weeks since she’d taken action against Leo Dillard—two weeks since he’d left the Academy rather than face the consequences of his behavior toward her. The decision to report his advances had been necessary, and his sudden departure from the Academy was a relief.

But it doesn’t feel like it’s over, she thought.

There had always been something about Leo’s demeanor, the intensity in his gaze when he looked at her, that unsettled her deeply.

The ease with which he wore his charm, the underlying darkness—it was a combination she had seen before in the eyes of those who took pleasure in destruction.

But it had been his physical move on her that had pushed Riley into action—that moment in her office when he’d tried to kiss her.

Reporting him had been straightforward; it was the aftermath—the quiet, the absence…

She knew the pattern well: once an immediate threat was gone, doubt often crept in, whispering what-ifs and might-have-beens.

It was the same doubt that kept her awake some nights, pondering over cases long closed.

Yet this was different; this was personal.

Riley’s thoughts still churned as she navigated off the interstate and through the turns toward her townhouse. She tried to dismiss the grim thoughts, but her intuition, sharpened through years of profiling, wasn’t easily silenced.

Something else was troubling her—a strange void in her life that teaching didn’t seem to fill.

Turning into the familiar parking area in front of the row of pleasant townhouses, Riley let out a sigh of relief. The sight of Bill Jeffreys’ car already there was a welcome sign. She parked beside it and stepped out into the warm September air.

Approaching the door, she inserted her key into the lock and then pushed the door open. From the kitchen, the rhythmic clatter of pots and pans announced that Gabriela was working her magic, the sizzling sounds promising a hearty meal to come.

Stepping over the threshold, Riley smiled when she heard Bill’s voice, measured and reassuring, punctuated by Jilly’s exasperated sighs. It was the sound of a familiar homework hour at the dining room table.

Of course, her eldest daughter wasn’t there with them now.

April had already departed for her first year at Jefferson Bell University and had chosen to live on campus.

Even though that was an important step, and even though the campus was right here in Fredericksburg, Riley couldn’t shake a sense of loss, the feeling of a chapter ending.

Shedding the weight of her day along with her jacket, Riley lingered in the entryway for a moment.

The stresses of her day - the nagging thoughts of Leo Dillard and the relentless intensity of her work - all began to dissolve.

As she moved toward the dining room, Riley was very grateful to be home.

The contrast between all this and the sterile halls of the Academy was palpable and welcome.

“Hey Riley,” Bill said looking up from the spread of academic debris scattered on the big table in front of him and Jilly. “How was your day?”

Riley set her bag down with a soft thud and moved to join them, the day’s remnants of profiling theory and criminal psychology evaporating in the wake of this small family scene. Her hand found its way to Jilly’s hair, fingers threading through the dark curls in an affectionate ruffle.

“Just the usual routine,” she answered. “How’s the homework battle going?”

Jilly’s response was a performance unto itself; she slumped back in her chair, an artful groan escaping her lips. “Why do I need to know so much about algebra? When am I ever going to use this in real life?”

Riley chuckled, crossing her arms as she regarded her young charge.

“Already forgotten, have you?” she teased. “That time just a couple of weeks ago, when you and April became my unofficial consultants? You decoded those cryptic notes, and algebra was our Rosetta Stone. By solving for x, you found the coordinates where a dead body was buried.”

Her reminder was met with a momentary spark that acknowledged the adventure they’d shared.

It was these instances, small victories and shared memories, that bridged the gap between their disparate worlds—her adopted daughter’s rough, tumultuous past as a troubled orphan, and Riley’s sometimes shadowed present.

Jilly returned to the pages, her exasperation giving way to a focused intensity.

As the pencil in Jilly’s hand scribbled the final answer, Riley leaned over the array of algebra problems, each step meticulously executed, and felt a surge of pride for the young girl who had come to mean so much to her, and who had overcome such childhood adversity.

Her gaze met Bill’s across the table and a warmth spread through her, not just from the pride in Jilly’s resolve but from the knowledge that Bill supported her in every challenge they faced.

Soon, the textbook snapped shut, and Jilly’s triumphant exhale filled the room. “Finally! Can I go play my game now?”

“Nice work,” Bill affirmed, giving his approval.

“Go ahead,” Riley said, “but remember - dinner in an hour.”

Jilly’s response was a blur of motion as she sprang from her chair and bounded out of the room. Riley heard her clattering up the stairs, free from the day’s academic duties.

“So,” Bill began, leaning back in his chair, “how did today really go for you? And don’t give me the ‘I’m fine’ routine. You’ve got stuff on your mind.”

Riley sighed. “Is it that obvious?” She sat down across from him, tracing the wood grain of the table, her mind warring with the logic and emotion that had always dictated her life.

“To me? Always. You’ve been restless lately, and it’s not just because April’s away at college.”

“Restless...” Riley echoed, returning to the table, the weight of the word settling over her shoulders. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Riley, we’ll figure it out. Together,” Bill said. Their years of partnership, friendship that had grown into love had woven a powerful bond.

“Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, stepping back from fieldwork,” she admitted. “I thought I needed distance, a break from all that … darkness, but now... Well, now I’m not so sure.”

“Uncertainty doesn’t suit you,” Bill remarked with a wry tilt of his head. “But, knowing you, you’ll confront it head-on when decision time comes.”

“Maybe,” she replied. “But you’re right. It’s not just about April.”

She glanced away for a moment, her eyes tracing the grain of the wood on the tabletop as if it could chart the course of her thoughts. Then she added, “I keep thinking about that case I worked on with Ann Marie Esmer a couple of weeks ago.”

“The consultant gig that turned into a full-blown investigation?” Bill asked, his tone light.

Riley nodded. “That’s just it. Working that case... it reminded me of what I’ve been missing,” she confessed. “The thrill of being in the field, the satisfaction of putting the pieces together, working with a partner...”

“So you really do miss working in the field,” Bill observed quietly, the statement neither question nor judgment—simply an open door for Riley to step through if she chose.

“I do,” Riley admitted, with an honesty that surprised even her.

But she knew there was no one better to trust with these confessions than the man who had seen her at her most vulnerable.

“More than I thought I would. There’s a part of me that’s been dormant, and that case.

..” She trailed off, lost for a moment in the recollection of adrenaline-fueled chases and mind-bending puzzles.

“And I miss working with you,” she acknowledged with a light laugh. “But Meredith has got you in charge of breaking in every rookie who is ready to take on fieldwork.”

“You said that you and Ann Marie got along fine this time.”

“That’s true,” Riley admitted. “I even miss working with Ann Marie. She took some getting used to, with that upbeat personality of hers, but we struck up a good rapport. But Ann Marie is permanently partnered with Grady Pickens now. And he’s exactly the right partner for her—seasoned, experienced, with all kinds of lessons to teach. I’m really not needed.”

Her voice held a finality, an attempt to convince herself as much as Bill.

Bill watched her from his seat, his expression unreadable. Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and shared dreams.

“It’s foolish,” Riley mused, “to think I could go back to that life, even for a case here and there.”

“Or maybe it’s exactly what you need,” Bill suggested gently.

“Maybe,” she whispered, allowing herself the luxury of considering a future untethered from the choices of her past. A future where the thrill of the hunt could once again pulse through her veins.

“So what’s really holding you back?” Bill’s voice cut through her reverie, his question sharp and clear as the clink of ice against glass.

“You’re one of the best agents the BAU has ever seen.

If you wanted to get back in the field full-time, you know Chief Meredith would make it happen in a heartbeat. ”

Riley shook her head, a cascade of dark hair brushing her shoulders. Her hands, usually so steady when profiling a suspect or assembling her weapon, now trembled slightly.

“It’s not that simple,” she murmured. “I have responsibilities here. My classes at the Academy, Jilly...” Her words trailed off, and she glanced toward the staircase where her daughter had disappeared moments ago.

She also remembered how that last case had led to a desperate chase through a cemetery to catch the killer and rescue his last intended victim. The aches and pains of the days that followed were a vivid reminder of the physical demands that sort of work job entailed.

“I’m not getting any younger, Bill. That last case with Ann Marie... it could have ended so much worse. I can’t keep chasing shadows into graveyards.”

“Except that it’s what you love,” Bill countered gently, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that always seemed to see right through her.

“Riley, I’ve known you long enough to see when you’re not content.

Teaching is important, and you’re damn good at it. But it’s not enough for you, is it?”

She gazed back at him. In his eyes, she found an unspoken conversation, one that spoke of years of shared struggles and triumphs.

He’s really a beautiful man, she thought.

With his face showing the signs of life’s stresses and his often unruly hair, Bill wasn’t slick movie-star handsome.

But his strength and generosity almost glowed in Riley’s eyes, much more important than superficial glamour.

She had been divorced from one man whose thoughts were only for himself, and had almost married another who hadn’t been able to deal with her life as an agent.

Now, she was grateful to have passed those by and settled in with Bill.

She wouldn’t want to face life without him.

“Then there’s us,” she said, “and what we planned for our future together. We’ve talked about retiring in about a year, settling down for a quiet life here.”

“That will still be out there for us,” he replied.

The silence in the room settled, heavy with words unsaid and choices unmade.

“Bill,” she admitted, “it feels like I’m standing at the edge of something I can’t see. Like there’s an undercurrent pulling at me, and I can’t tell if it’s going to drag me under or push me forward.”

Riley shook her head, the corners of her lips tilting down in a frown. “It’s everything—April, teaching, the itch for the field... It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“You can’t ignore those feelings,” Bill said.

“Maybe you’re right,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the distance between them. It was a confession, the acknowledgment of a hunger she could not sate with routine and chalkboards. “But what am I supposed to do about it?”

It was then that the silence was broken by the insistent buzz of her phone. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, her eyes widening slightly at the name flashing on the screen. Brent Meredith’s name blinked back at her, an omen or an opportunity—she wasn’t sure which.

“Speaking of the devil,” Riley said, a half-smile flickering as she showed the display to Bill. His expression was unreadable. With a steadying breath, she pressed the device to her ear.

“Paige here,” she answered, her voice calm despite the torrent of emotions roiling beneath the surface.

“Agent Paige, it’s Meredith.” The voice of the special agent in charge was all business, gravelly and succinct, cutting through the quiet of the townhouse like a knife through butter. “Are you available to consult on a case in the Outer Banks?”

The question hung there, suspended in the charged silence of anticipation.

Available? She wondered.

Could she really step back into that world, even if only to consult? Would this be a brief diversion or the beginning of a return to the field?

She felt Bill’s gaze on her, supportive as always. The answer was there, somewhere in the space between her heartbeat and her hesitation.

“Agent Paige?” Meredith’s voice crackled through the speakerphone again.

Riley had to make an important decision right now.