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Ann Marie felt a palpable shift, as if the case had suddenly turned in a new direction.
“The Cipher Society,” she murmured quietly to Riley. “Could this be their doing?”
She and Riley held each other’s gaze for a moment. They both knew that the name stood for more than just intellectual elitism; it was a shadow network, capable of insidious influence.
“Aldrich is what they call a “variable” in their hierarchy, a sort of field agent, and typical of their ilk,” Baird continued. “They’ve always been arrogant, ruthless in their methods. And yet …”
He paused as if trying to absorb the implications of what he was saying.
“I’d never have thought they’d be capable of murder,” he finally said.
“It sounds like maybe they’ve escalated their activities,” Ann Marie commented.
From Riley’s expression, Ann Marie sensed that her mind was churning out possibilities, looking for further connections. And Ann Marie could guess what those connections might be.
There’s another society to consider, she thought.
Sure enough, Riley asked the question that was on Ann Marie’s mind.
“Mr. Baird,” Riley said, “did Professor Nash happen to belong to a group called the Virginia Educators for Excellence in Mathematics?”
“Why, yes,” Baird said. “He was a member of VEEM. In fact, he was once Vice President of that organization. That was many years ago, though.”
Ann Marie had an almost eerie sense that her mind was in sync with Riley’s. She knew that they were both mentally replaying all that they had learned about VEEM back in Glencoe yesterday.
“Do you happen to know who was president of VEEM when Professor Nash was vice president?” Ann Marie asked.
Baird squinted thoughtfully.
“It was a woman,” he said. “Robert talked about her often, but I can’t quite bring her name to mind …”
“Did it happen to be Patricia Warren?” Ann Marie asked.
“Why, yes, it was,” Baird said.
Ann Marie felt a jolt of excitement at the connection with the long-ago murder victim. She was sure Riley felt the same way.
Meanwhile, Agent Putnam looked somewhat puzzled.
Ann Marie could understand why. Neither she nor Riley had had the opportunity to update Putnam about all that they’d learned in Glencoe.
He didn’t know the earlier victim’s name, let alone that she’d been a high-ranking member of VEEM.
In fact, they hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the Cipher Society, either.
He has no idea what we’re talking about, Ann Marie thought.
Putnam’s posture, usually as rigid as the pressed lines of his suit, shifted ever so slightly—a crack in the controlled facade.
“Let’s take a breather and regroup,” he suggested sharply. He offered a curt nod towards the bereaved man, handing him a crisp business card. “Should any more memories surface, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
With that, Putnam motioned towards the front door, signaling an urgency that wasn’t lost on either of the women. They fell into step behind him, their footsteps echoing in sync with his own. Detective Archie Prendergast trailed along behind them.
Once outside, Putnam halted abruptly on the neatly manicured lawn and turned to face them. His sharp features were accentuated by the bright light.
“It sounds like you’d better bring me up to speed,” he said to Ann Marie and Riley, folding his arms across his broad chest as he confronted them head-on.
Riley and Ann Marie almost started to talk at once, but Ann Marie stopped herself and let her senior partner explain things.
Riley told Putnam that the victim buried 20 years ago had been identified as Patricia Warren, who had once been president of VEEM.
She also told Putnam about Patricia’s husband, Levon—his jealousy at her membership in VEEM, and his own membership in the Cipher Society.
Putnam looked off in the distance, a slight frown on his face, as Riley told him all this. He was obviously struggling to take everything in.
“So you’re saying that the Cipher Society might be involved with murder?”
“Could be,” Riley confirmed. “They’re deeply hostile toward VEEM, and everybody in it. And over the space of two decades, two members of VEEM have been killed.”
Ann Marie watched Riley closely as she put these new pieces of their puzzle together.
There was something reassuring in her senior partner’s presence and confidence.
She remembered how, when she’d been a rookie, she’d thought Riley had some kind of special sixth sense—something that went beyond the usual BAU skills.
Her legendary success rate seemed to support that idea.
Putnam crossed his arms, a gesture that seemed defensive. “So this Levon Warren you’ve been telling me about—do you think he’s a suspect in his wife’s murder? And maybe the murders of Margaret Whitfield and Garrett Fenn?”
“It isn’t likely that he had anything to do with the recent murders—especially this one,” Ann Marie clarified. “His wife’s death, though—that’s a different story. He hasn’t been cleared for that.”
“At least not completely,” Riley added with a note of caution.
“You seem to doubt his guilt, Agent Paige,” Putnam observed.
Riley’s chin lifted, a subtle defiance in her posture. “It’s not about doubt,” she said. “Right now, we don’t have enough evidence to tie him to his wife’s murder.”
As Ann Marie listened to the exchange between Riley and Putnam, she sensed both connection and conflict between her two colleagues. She knew their basic approaches were different, a matter of relying entirely on facts or also giving attention to intuition.
And they don’t exactly like each other, she thought.
“Baird said Derek Aldrich was harassing and libeling the most recent victim,” Putnam mused. “And we also know that he’s a member of the Cipher Society. We need to find him and get some answers.”
“Finding him might not be easy,” Prendergast told them, stepping into the conversation for the first time since they’d left Cliff Baird’s house.
“We’ve been after him for a while now. He’s been harassing other local people aside from the victim.
There’s already a warrant out for his arrest on charges of cyberstalking and libel.
But when my team and I went to his home to bring him in, the bird had flown the coop. ”
“So he’s vanished completely?” Putnam asked.
“He’s still active online,” Prendergast said, frustration lacing his words. “It’s as if he’s taunting us, staying just out of reach while leaving a trail of breadcrumbs through cyberspace.”
Putnam didn’t appear discouraged by the news; if anything, it seemed to fuel his resolve further.
“He won’t stay hidden for long,” he assured them confidently. “Not with the FBI stepping in. We’ll trace those breadcrumbs right to his present whereabouts. I’ll get our forensic techs in Quantico on it. They can work miracles with this kind of thing.”
Ann Marie observed Putnam, noting his assurance. She also felt confident that, even though the Cipher Society was sure to be shrouded in layers of secrecy and codes, the tenacious minds at Quantico would peel back those layers.
She was surprised when Riley turned to Putnam and asked in a casual voice, “Care to join me and Agent Esmer for lunch before we dive back into work?”
Putnam’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “I’d rather not waste valuable time,” he said, his voice scornful. “The Cipher Society won’t pause for our meal breaks. But if you feel like you’ve got time for that sort of thing, go right ahead.”
Riley’s response was a light chuckle. Something about the way she seemed pleased by his refusal unsettled Ann Marie. It was as though Riley knew some private joke, or perhaps she had foreseen his response.
As Putnam reached for his phone, presumably to rally the Quantico team, Riley turned to Detective Prendergast and asked, “could you recommend somewhere good to grab a bite around here?”
Prendergast nodded, giving them directions to a local spot known for its quiet ambiance. As they thanked him and made their way to their car, Ann Marie glanced back to see Putnam already absorbed in his call.
Ann Marie slid into the passenger seat of the BAU sedan, her thoughts still churning.
She found herself caught between two formidable personalities—Riley, with her enigmatic calm, and Putnam, with his unwavering focus.
Both were driven, yet their methods seemed to diverge wildly.
In that divergence, Ann Marie sensed an unspoken challenge, a battle of wills in which neither party would easily concede.
And she realized, with a growing sense of anticipation, that she was right in the thick of it.
“Riley,” she ventured, “is this really the best time for a break?”
Riley chuckled—a low, knowing sound. “Who said anything about taking a break?” she replied, her eyes sharp as flint. “Quantico’s techs are top-notch, but it might take them hours or even days to track down Aldrich. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“What’s your approach, then?” Ann Marie asked, intrigued by the notion of outpacing the fabled Quantico forensics team.
Riley’s smile was thin and mischievous. “Let’s just say I have … an old friend.”
Then she added with a chuckle, “And he’s kind of a secret weapon.”