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Riley Paige stood at the head of the FBI Academy classroom, looking over rows of intent faces. She was recounting the closing hours of a complex investigation.
“Remember, it’s the subtleties that often speak volumes,” she said, her gaze sweeping the room. “In this case, it was the placement of a single, out-of-season tulip on each victim’s nightstand.”
The students leaned forward, rapt as Riley dissected the psychological underpinnings of the crime, laying bare the inner workings of a mind bent on control and the illusion of affection.
She didn’t need to say how close to home that case had hit; the shadows around her eyes hinted at the toll such encounters exacted.
As Riley concluded, the air seemed to vibrate with the collective energy of her students. Hands shot up, questions flying like arrows seeking their mark.
“What was the significance of the tulip colors?”
“How did you establish the timeline?”
“Was the perpetrator reliving a lost relationship?”
Riley’s lips curved into a small, proud smile. This was why she had traded the relentless pace of fieldwork for the halls of academia: the sparking of bright minds eager to learn, to understand.
“Special Agent Paige, was there a moment when you felt empathy towards the suspect?” asked a keen-eyed young woman in the front row.
Oh, if you only knew, Riley thought, her smile widening.
For she harbored an uncanny ability to make intuitive leaps into a criminal’s mind—an ability she didn’t fully understand herself, and that only her close colleagues fully appreciated. But now was not the time or place to get into all that.
“Empathy can be a tool,” Riley replied, her voice tinged with the gravity of experience. “One that can help us understand motive, predict behavior. But we must never lose sight of the victims, the lives stolen. Our real empathy is ultimately reserved for them, and for the justice they deserve.”
Nodding in satisfaction, the students jotted down her words, their gazes reflecting a shared resolve.
The class was soon over, but Riley lingered at the podium, her keen hazel eyes scanning over the sea of departing students, enjoying their youthful energy.
She reached for her notes, neatly stacked beside the worn leather briefcase that had traveled with her through countless crime scenes.
Her hands stilled when she noticed one student, Leo Dillard, weaving through the crowd toward her. He stopped just short of the podium, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.
“Agent Paige, that was an incredible lecture,” he began. “It’s just the way you think, the way you deduce things from small details … It’s inspiring.”
“Thank you, Leo,” she replied. This tall student wasn’t one of her favorites, although she wasn’t sure why. His dark hair was clipped as neatly as any of the others, his bearing more confident than most.
“The way you dissected the mindset of the Gilmore County Strangler,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, invading the invisible boundary she maintained around her. “How you anticipated his next move—it was like watching an artist at work.”
The Gilmore County Strangler? She thought with surprise.
She hadn’t expected one of her students to know about that case, much less bring it up with her.
Riley masked her discomfort with a nod. She knew that her reputation preceded her, and that tales of her exploits had even worked their way into the curriculum, spun into cautionary tales and learning examples.
But she didn’t think that particular case was widely known.
“Understanding the criminal mind is part art, part science,” she said evenly. “It’s about finding patterns where chaos seems to reign.”
“Of course,” he acknowledged, straightening up but still holding her gaze. “I can only hope to reach that level of insight one day.”
“Insight comes with experience,” she replied quickly, eager to wrap up the conversation. “And experience comes from putting what you learn into practice in the field.”
“Agent Paige,” he pressed, his voice low and insistent, “I’ve been wanting to ask, what does it feel like to pull the trigger? To use deadly force?”
Riley felt another twinge of uneasiness.
“That’s a complex topic, Leo,” she said, injecting authority into her tone. “It’s the subject of entire courses on its own.”
Leo nodded eagerly, as if they had shared something intimate, something secret. “Of course, of course. But maybe we could discuss it privately sometime? You can feel free to talk to me about things you can’t share with other students.”
Riley squared her shoulders and met Leo’s unwavering stare. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Leo,” she replied, “but I’d prefer not to discuss such topics individually at all. If you have further questions about the curriculum, please bring them up in class or during office hours.”
The flicker of disappointment in his pale blue eyes was swiftly veiled by an expression of contrition.
“Of course, Agent Paige. I didn’t mean to overstep,” he said, his voice smooth.
Riley glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing half-past three. She needed to leave soon if she was to make it home in time for April’s celebration. With a subtle shift of her posture, she signaled the end of their interaction.
“Keep studying, Leo,” she advised, her voice carrying the finality of a seasoned agent accustomed to drawing lines. “And remember, the best agents know when to step back and see the bigger picture.”
He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, before turning away and rejoining the flow of exiting students.
Riley gathered her belongings with swift, practiced movements, but as she prepared to leave the lecture hall, she couldn’t shake her sense of unease.
Something about Leo’s words, or maybe just his expression, hinted at an interest beyond academic curiosity.
Leaving the lecture hall, Riley’s brisk pace echoed sharply in the quiet corridor.
She passed the familiar plaques commemorating past successes of the FBI, each one a testament to justice served.
Her footsteps carried her swiftly past the rows of closed classroom doors, behind which future protectors of peace honed their skills.
As she pushed through the heavy doors leading outside, the bright glare of the afternoon sun did little to dispel her dark mood.
She left the academy building and crossed to another large beige structure, a building that she had worked out of for many years.
The familiar corridors of the Behavioral Analysis Unit headquarters, with its familiar bustle of agents and the hum of activity, brought her back to a sense of belonging.
She made her way past the bullpen, where clusters of desks harbored agents poring over case files, and computer screens flickered with information.
When she reached Bill Jeffreys’ office, the door was slightly ajar, allowing snippets of conversation to escape.
Inside, Bill’s large frame dominated the space behind his desk, his presence as always welcome and warm.
She and Bill had been working partners for years, and she had always thought of them as something like a matched pair—both were in their forties with touches of gray showing in dark hair.
Now their relationship had changed from working partner to lifetime commitment.
Beside him, the young agent Ann Marie Esmer leaned forward, her hands animatedly sketching the air as she recounted the details of their latest pursuit.
Ann Marie was a vibrant burst of color in these somber surroundings, her blond hair shimmering under the fluorescent lights and her sparkling blue eyes reflecting an infectious enthusiasm.
“Hey, Riley,” Ann Marie called out. “Great to see you! How’s life in the classroom treating you?”
Riley allowed a smile to break through the clouds of her mind. “It keeps me on my toes,” she replied.
The scene before her was a snapshot of the life she had known, each element – the charts on the walls, the markers stained from endless brainstorming sessions, and the camaraderie between agents – a piece of the mosaic that was her career.
For a moment, she allowed herself to bask in the comfort of familiarity.
“We just reported on a car theft ring down in Norfolk—turned out to be a couple of teenagers looking for thrills,” Bill recounted, the pride in their work shining in his eyes. “Nothing that’ll make the headlines, but it’s another win for the good guys.”
“Every case matters,” Riley affirmed. The sense of accomplishment that radiated from them was catching.
“See you tomorrow,” Anne Marie said cheerfully, leaving the office to go back to her desk in the bullpen.
Riley watched as the young agent’s graceful figure retreated through the door, her blonde hair catching the light. There was a deliberate precision in Ann Marie’s steps—both the confidence and the eager rhythm of youth.
“Ready to head home?” Riley asked. Bill’s affirmative nod was accompanied by the rustle of papers and the soft click of his briefcase snapping shut.
As they walked through the corridor outside Bill’s office, Riley’s thoughts churned, replaying Leo’s intense gaze, the unwelcome questions.
She contemplated sharing her unease with Bill; his insight had always been invaluable.
He knew all about her struggles with her ex-husband and her affair and near-marriage with a neighbor.
Now, he was helping her raise her two daughters.
Even so, something held her back from complaining about Leo—a reluctance to voice a fear that might prove unfounded, even silly.
Outside, the late afternoon sun painted everything in hues of gold and amber. As she and Bill strolled to the parking lot, she inquired about his work, seeking normalcy in the mundane.
“So, how’s the partnership with Ann Marie working out?” she asked, her curiosity genuine. His chuckle was a deep, comforting sound.
“It’s going well,” he replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. “Her enthusiasm took some getting used to, but she’s turning into an excellent agent. Sharp instincts, great with victims.” It was high praise coming from Bill, who valued competence and dedication above all else.
“But?” Riley prodded gently as they approached their vehicle, sensing something unspoken.
Bill sighed, a deep exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of years spent in service of a cause greater than themselves.
“But it’s not going to be a long-term thing,” he explained, leaning against the vehicle. “With you and me both planning to retire within the year, Meredith wants to assign Ann Marie a more permanent partner. He’s got me lined up to ‘break in’ some rookies for my last few months.”
They both got into the car and he started the engine, the familiar purr momentarily displacing the quiet that had settled between them. Then, with a glance that conveyed years of shared experiences, he asked, “What about you? Missing the field at all?”
Riley considered the question, her mind transporting her back to the rush of active investigations.
The thrill of the chase, the mental sparring with enigmatic foes—all of it had once fueled her, driven her to excel in a world where others might falter.
Yet now, standing on the precipice of a different life, she discerned a tranquility in teaching that she hadn’t known she wanted.
“Not as much as I thought I would,” she admitted, glancing at him briefly. “I miss our day-to-day partnership more than anything. But now that we’re living together, even that’s easier to handle.”
Her words were acknowledgment of the shift in their relationship, from partners to something not clearly defined yet deeply rooted.
“Anyway,” she added, “I’ve found a new satisfaction in shaping these young minds. And the peace it brings... it’s good for me, for us.”
Bill’s hand found hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, conveying support without the need for words. It was a simple gesture, but in it, Riley found a sense that everything was as it should be.
Yet as he drove them home, along an interstate and then winding through the suburban streets of Fredericksburg, uneasiness crept back into Riley’s thoughts.
Leo Dillard’s face hovered in her mind’s eye, his piercing gaze and intense demeanor refusing to be dismissed.
The encounter had disturbed her in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.
A part of her wanted to confide in Bill, to lay bare the troubling exchange and seek his advice.
They had always been each other’s sounding board, after all.
But she hesitated, uncertainty gripping her.
It was probably nothing, she told herself.
Just an overeager student crossing a line, a misstep borne of youthful impetuosity rather than malice.
Yet she couldn’t shake off a troubled feeling about the encounter, and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why.
“Everything okay?” Bill’s voice broke through her reverie, sounding worried.
“Fine,” Riley answered, a little too quickly, hoping her tone carried more assurance than she felt. She forced a small smile. “Just thinking about April’s birthday dinner tonight.”
Still, that nagging sensation loomed in the edge of her consciousness. With a subtle shiver, Riley pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the evening ahead with her family.
It was nothing, she told herself, just an overeager student trying to cross a line. But if he keeps on being pushy, I’ll just have a hard talk with him.