Page 7

After the half-hour drive back to Quantico, Riley and Bill walked into the BAU building together. The corridors inside were alive with the muted energy of ongoing investigations, the low hum of the never-sleeping beast that was the heart of FBI operations.

“Does Meredith know we’re coming?” she asked Bill.

“I sent a message that we were on the way to speak with him, but no details,”

Riley took a deep breath; there was no turning back now. She had asked to be part of this investigation, and Meredith had said “no.” Defying a direct order hadn’t been unheard of back when she was an active agent, but had no place in her recent role as an Academy teacher.

Reaching the familiar threshold, Riley paused.

“Ready?” Bill asked in a low voice. When she nodded, he pushed the door open, revealing Meredith hunched over his desk, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his tie hanging loosely—the very image of dedication after ordinary working hours.

“Paige, Jeffreys,” Meredith intoned, looking up with a flash of annoyance. “This had better be important.”

“Agent Paige has worked out some information you need to know,” Bill explained. “We didn’t want to try to explain it by phone.”

“Then sit,” Meredith grumbled, an eyebrow arched in demand for an explanation. “But be quick. As you can see, I’m busy.”

They both took chairs in front of his desk, then Riley leaped into her explanation.

“Sir, this is about that case we talked about yesterday,” she said. “The murders in Slippery Rock and Roanoke.”

Meredith’s expression darkened, and he squinted with displeasure.

“I thought I told you to stay away from that,” he said.

“I know, sir, but … well, as I told you yesterday, the murder of Margaret Whitfield is a personal issue for me. And I found something I think you and the team investigating that case you need to know.”

“Go on,” Meredith growled.

“Sir, I suppose you know that sheets of equations were pinned to each victim’s body.”

Meredith nodded silently.

“They’re not random class assignments or ordinary quizzes,” Riley explained. “The answers to two of the equations, one from each sheet, are different from the others. When you put those two together, they carry a message. They’re map coordinates, and they correspond to a specific location.”

She could see skepticism cloud Meredith’s eyes as she took out the two copies that her daughters had used to work out the problems. But as she continued, going over the exact numbers and how the two odd ones fitted together, something shifted.

A flicker of interest sparked behind Meredith’s guarded expression, betraying the gruff exterior that had come to define him.

Riley carefully explained all the details of how the apparently innocuous classroom materials pinned to the victims led straight to the rugged heart of Virginia’s wilderness. The Blue Ridge Wilderness Park was an expanse of untamed forest, a place where secrets could easily remain hidden.

Silence fell over the room as Meredith absorbed all of her findings. Riley found herself holding her breath, waiting for the verdict from the man who had once been her team chief. Would he cast aside her findings, or would he recognize the glimmer of truth she presented?

Meredith leaned back in his chair, staring directly at her. Then he looked at Bill, who said firmly, “It all makes sense to me, and I thought this information should come directly from Riley to you right away.”

“Before I make any decisions,” Meredith finally broke his stillness, “I need to speak with Ivor Putnam.” He glanced up at Riley. “He’s the team chief for the Whitfield and Fenn murders. Although he hasn’t reported this kind of findings, chances are that he’s already onto this. If he’s not …”

Riley knew of Putnam by reputation—a sharp mind, but one not easily swayed by others’ input, and not an easy agent to get along with. Would he resent information from outside his own investigation or welcome it?

With a few pressed buttons, Meredith initiated the call, activating the speaker function. The dial tone buzzed.

“Putnam,” Meredith’s voice was firm.

“Go ahead, sir,” came the crisp, self-assured response from Ivor Putnam. His tone reflected his reputation—a brilliant agent whose arrogance often overshadowed his achievements.

“Your progress on the Whitfield and Fenn case?” Meredith asked.

Riley’s gaze lingered on the floor, tracing the pattern of the carpet tiles as she waited for Putnam’s reply. She was grateful for Bill sitting beside her.

“My team’s spread out between Roanoke and Slippery Rock,” Putnam reported, his voice echoing off the walls. “I’m with the team here in Roanoke. We’re chasing down leads, but it’s slow going. This is a substantial city, not as simple to work as the Slippery Rock crime scene.”

Meredith asked bluntly, “And Blue Ridge Wilderness Park, has that come up in your investigation?”

There was a slight pause on the line, one that stretched long enough for Riley to feel her heart thump. She imagined Putnam, miles away, considering Meredith’s query, wondering why, and analyzing every piece of data his sharp mind had cataloged.

“Blue Ridge?” Putnam finally echoed, his voice tinged with an air of bewilderment that seemed out of place for a man of his confidence. “No, that park’s not on our radar,” he continued. “Why should it be?”

Meredith leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his shift in weight. “Could be something there.”

“Sir, can you explain what caught your attention?” Putnam asked. “I’ll be glad to follow up.”

“I’m going to ask Special Agent Riley Paige to explain,” Meredith told the agent.

The silence on the phone line was thick, nearly tangible. Then Riley began.

“Special Agent Putnam, I’ve been interested in the equations on the quiz sheets from both victims.”

There was no response, so she continued.

“The answers to two equations, one from each sheet, are map coordinates. Put together, they mark a specific location within the Blue Ridge Wilderness Park.” She thought it wiser not to mention that her young daughters had immediately noticed those two unusual numbers.

A static-filled silence followed her statement. Riley could picture Putnam at the other end, his frown, the cogs turning in his methodical mind. She imagined the way he would be holding his phone, his posture rigid with tension—a mirror of their own.

“Interesting,” came Putnam’s voice finally, so quiet they had to strain to hear it. His surprise was a rare crack in the facade of an agent who had a reputation for being unflappable.

Riley’s eyes met Bill’s. They were onto something that Putnam had missed, and they knew it. Riley felt Meredith’s gaze on her, assessing, calculating.

“Frankly, we considered those sheets to be innocuous,” Putnam conceded after what felt like an eternity. “And separate. Of course my team worked out the problems, but they didn’t put any of the answers from the separate crime scene papers together, not like that.”

“Then consider this your wakeup call,” Meredith’s voice cut through the room, carrying his full authority. “I’m sending Paige out there. You two will link up at the park’s visitor center at noon. Listen to her. Figure out what this is all about.”

“Understood,” Putnam replied, though his tone lacked its former crisp certainty.

Riley exhaled slowly. The wheels were in motion now. A part of her—the part that thrived on the hunt—felt a spark of life flicker.

Meredith ended the call with a decisive click, and Riley sensed the shift in the room.

Tomorrow’s rendezvous was not just another appointment; it was a convergence of minds on a path that might lead to clarity or trouble.

The once theoretical connection between the case and the serene landscapes of Blue Ridge had morphed into a tangible lead, one she was now called upon to explain to another agent, perhaps to investigate in the real world.

“You have your orders, Agent Paige,” Meredith said. “Just don’t get in Putnam’s way. And as soon as you figure out this thing about the geographical coordinates, come home. Leave the rest to Putman. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to go with Agent Paige tomorrow.” Bill ventured. “Agent Esmer and I just closed our case this afternoon. My schedule’s cleared up.”

His request was met by a resounding silence, and then Meredith responded, his voice as hard as steel.

“No,” he said flatly. “You’re staying here. I have plans for you, and besides …”

Bill opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Meredith’s raised hand. The stern gaze of the Special Agent in Charge brooked no argument.

“The personal connection between you two,” Meredith said, his tone icy as he pointed a finger back and forth between Bill and Riley.

“It could compromise the investigation. And let’s not forget that Agent Paige wasn’t even supposed to be involved in this case at all.

” His last words were directed at Riley, a stark reminder of her insubordination.

Disappointment marked both their faces, but they held their tongues.

Meredith dismissed them with a curt wave of his hand, signaling an abrupt end to the meeting. “That’s all for tonight,” he said tersely, already turning back to the piles of paperwork on his desk.

“Thank you for your time, Special Agent Meredith,” Riley said as she stood to leave.

Meredith glowered up at her, his eyes dark and intense.

“Although you breached protocol,” he said, his voice carrying a stern edge, “you were correct to bring what you found to my attention. I’m not even going to ask how you figured this out.

” His lips twitched ever so slightly, hinting at an almost smile as he added, “At this point, I don’t know whether to give you a reprimand or congratulations. ”

Riley smiled and nodded. She had witnessed this kind of internal conflict in her superiors before, the struggle between enforcing the rules and acknowledging a job well done.

Riley left Meredith’s office with a sense of satisfaction.

As she and Bill navigated their way out of the BAU, their steps carried them past familiar faces, each glance an unasked question they weren’t ready to answer.

They knew well the rules within these walls—codes of respect and authority.

Although both had managed to skirt those rules many times during their long careers, Riley had been much more compliant since she’d held a teaching position.

Stepping outside, the cool night air greeted them.

The darkness of the Virginia sky stretched above them, dotted with stars that seemed oblivious to their earthly concerns.

It was a clarity that Riley had once longed for, a simplicity that escaped the tangled web of emotions and responsibilities that now lay before her again.

Together, they walked towards their car parked in the lot—a silent journey punctuated only by the sound of their footsteps and the distant chirping of crickets.

The reality of what had transpired began to truly sink in with every step; the investigation that beckoned to Riley, the risks involved, the potential peril that awaited in the Blue Ridge Wilderness Park.

All of it loomed over her, a mountain of uncertainty that she would have to tackle without her longtime partner at her side.

As they got into the car and Bill drove them back to Fredericksburg, she continued to contend with feelings she thought she’d left behind when she transitioned to teaching, the risk-taking chapters of her life neatly closed and filed away.

But now, as the possibility of reentering that fray loomed before her, for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to indulge in the anticipation, to feel the energy of potential action pulsating in her blood.

In her mind’s eye, she saw herself once again piecing together clues, following leads, her instincts and training merging into a singular purpose.

That was the world she knew, the world where she had once excelled.

Bill’s voice cut through the silence of their car ride, thick with concern. “Riley, you sure about this? Going back into the field... it’s not just about chasing leads. It’s dangerous. You know that better than anyone.”

“I know, Bill,” she finally said, her voice steady. “But I can handle it.”

She could hear the truth in her own words, even as she acknowledged the validity of his worries.

Yet beneath the surface agreement with his misgivings, an undeniable surge of excitement began to build within her.

The prospect of fieldwork, the adrenaline of the chase—it called to her with a siren’s allure that was hard to resist.

“Anyhow,” she told him, “this is just a trip to bring another agent up to date, not really a full assignment to the case. I’ll probably be back home the same day.”

As they pulled out of the parking lot of their townhouse, Riley felt the familiar thrill of investigation.

It was a sensation she had not realized how much she missed—the sharp focus, the puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled into a coherent whole, the chase.

She had to admit that she’d even missed the more dangerous challenges. On a case, no two days would be alike.