Page 45 of Once Silenced

She felt sure that each victim had been more than just a target; they were offerings, deliberate and carefully chosen.Her instincts told her that these murders were personal.A killer driven not by random impulse but by a deep-seated need for retribution would fit the part perfectly.A son avenging his mother’s ruin, perhaps?

I’m all but sure of it,she thought.

But Riley knew she couldn’t talk about her feeling of connection with the killer, with her detection of a residue of reverence at the crime scene.She had to frame her thoughts differently.

But how?

“Your thoughts, Agent Paige?”Prendergast’s voice broke through her reverie, his eyes searching for an answer.

The room fell silent, every pair of eyes trained on her.

“It could be Timothy Lancaster,” she said.“Martha’s son...a person like that fits the profile for this kind of vendetta.In fact, I think he’s our most likely suspect.”

But what if I’m wrong?She wondered.

A gut feeling, however powerful, was only that—a feeling.She recognized that what she was suggesting had the potential for a breakthrough or a descent into a wild goose chase.

“Our most likely suspect?”Putnam scoffed.“A man who was declared dead years ago?Do you see any reason to believe he’s even alive?”

“If we have no evidence he’s actually dead, then we have to consider him as a strong possibility,” Riley replied.

“Other ideas?”Prendergast asked, turning to the group.

It was Ann Marie who spoke up next.

“We should consider the possibility that the killer might target someone from VEEM next.After all, that organization is at the center of this case.The rejection of Martha Lancaster’s bid to join VEEM was what precipitated her downfall.”

“Right,” Riley put in, nodding at Ann Marie’s suggestion.“And two of the victims were members.We should alert the board members and ensure they’re protected.”

They all agreed that was the way to proceed.

“Okay, we also have Aldrich’s computer from the raid,” Prendergast stated.“It needs to be checked out ASAP.”

“I’ll have it sent to our techs at Quantico right away,” Putnam said.“They can start digging for any trace of Timothy Lancaster.”

“That’s going to take time,” Prendergast said.“If he’s out there, if he still exists, and if he’s our killer, we need to find him before he can strike again.”

Riley watched as the gears of the investigation began to turn faster, each cog setting into motion the next phase of their search.She could feel the energy of the room build, a collective determination settling over the team.

“We need to focus on who his next intended victim might be,” she said, her tone shifting to one of urgency.“That needs to be our main focus right now.If this killer is following a pattern, then we’re on borrowed time.He killed his two most recent victims during the last two nights in a row.He’s accelerating his pace.”

Her colleagues understood the implications.She didn’t have to spell it out; if they were right about the murderer’s schedule, someone else was already marked for death that very night.And while the prospect of catching a killer was what drove them all, this was also about saving a life.

“Let’s get moving,” she urged, her thoughts on the lives that hung in the balance, the unseen face of a killer.A familiar race against the clock had begun.

She cast a sidelong glance at Ann Marie, who met her gaze with an unspoken understanding.Riley knew they were thinking the same thing.They needed to get in touch with Van Roff again.With his knack for bending rules, he could delve into digital depths that others wouldn’t discover.He might be their secret weapon in this hunt.

The conference room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the air charged with urgency.The window to prevent another tragedy was rapidly closing.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Gwen Beck stepped out into the lingering warmth of an August night in Slychester, the air soft and heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine from her garden.The streetlights cast a gentle amber glow, guiding her path to the car parked in the driveway, keys jingling in her hand

As she walked, the memories of Hugh filled her mind.Two years had passed since he left this world, yet his absence still often caught her unawares when she set the table for one or found an old photograph wedged in a book.Gwen shook her head gently, as if to dispel the thoughts, and focused instead on the evening ahead.

Retirement had been a daunting precipice for Gwen, to find herself teetering on the edge of irrelevance after decades chasing stories for the Slychester Eagle, the local newspaper.But now, as she walked toward her car, her mind buzzed with anticipation, not unlike the old thrill of uncovering a lead.Teaching at Corbin College had sparked something within her—a renewed sense of purpose that filled the void left by giving up her reporter’s badge.

Her lesson plan for tonight’s class was neatly arranged in her mind, the order of information she would offer her students.Gwen imagined their young faces, alight with curiosity, as she taught them the wisdom of ethical journalism, the importance of the written word, and the power of truth.Each night class was a step toward fulfilling this newfound mission—to mold the next generation of vigilant scribes in a world that was rife with half-truths and sensationalism.She smiled to herself, the edges of loss momentarily blunted by enthusiasm for her craft.

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