Page 9 of Once Silenced

“Mrs.Whitfield...she didn’t just teach us numbers,” Riley said.“She taught us resilience, how to face new problems head-on and solve them piece by piece.”

“She even made me enjoy math for a while there,” Hoke said, and Riley could almost see his rueful grin through the line.“Never thought I’d say that about algebra.”

“Neither did she, judging by your test scores,” Riley quipped, allowing the momentary levity to ease the sting of loss.

Hoke chuckled a little, then said, “Look, I’ll try to keep you in the loop about the case as much as I know.But it’s in the hands of an FBI team, and I’m not likely to know everything that’s going on.But hey—do you think you could get yourself assigned to the case?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Riley said.“I’m an Academy instructor now, not an active field agent.”

“Too bad.”

Yeah, it is,Riley thought unhappily.

“Take care, Hoke,” Riley murmured after a moment.

“You too, Riley.”

With a final click, the call ended, leaving Riley sitting at her desk in silence, gazing at the framed photo of her two daughters.She had chosen mentorship over manhunts, decided to spend time at home with her family instead of traveling all over the country as she used to do.She knew she had made the right choice.

And yet …

Did she really have to stay on the bench while this case played out?The murder of her former teacher had happened right here in Virginia.The drive to Slippery Rock was less than four hours …

Riley made her decision.She strode out of her sanctuary of academia and crossed to the BAU building.When she reached the door to Special Agent in Charge Brent Meredith’s office, she knocked firmly, the sound echoing down the quiet hallway.

“Come in,” came the gruff reply.

Meredith’s office was the very image of minimalism and efficiency.His desk was an expanse of clean lines and order, save for a single framed photograph of a mountain landscape that broke the monotony.The African American man behind the desk matched his surroundings—broad-shouldered and imposing, with a face that rarely betrayed emotion.

Riley suddenly felt a familiar pang of intimidation in the presence of her boss.

“What is it, Agent Paige?”he asked.

“Sir, I was a student of Mrs.Margaret Whitfield, whose murder is now part of an FBI investigation,” Riley said, getting right to the point.

Meredith nodded, his expression neutral as he leaned back in his chair.“I’m familiar with the case.In fact, I assigned the team that’s investigating it.”

Riley swallowed the lump in her throat.“I’d like to be made part of that team, sir,” she said.

For a moment, Meredith’s eyebrows raised slightly, as if the request had managed to surprise even him.But his face quickly settled back into its usual stoic mask.

“Agent Paige, you haven’t worked in a field capacity for months now.You seemed eager to transition to teaching.What’s changed?”

“This is personal, sir,” she admitted.

She told him about Mrs.Whitfield, her high school algebra teacher, and how the woman’s encouragement had steered a rebellious teenager toward a path of purpose.When she finished, the silence was broken only by Meredith’s stern reply.

“What you’ve just told me is precisely why I can’t assign you to this case, Agent Paige.It’s far too personal for you.You’d lack the objectivity necessary to investigate effectively.”

She recognized the possible truth in his words.But she couldn’t let go of her desire to get involved—not yet.

“I understand, sir,” Riley began, steadying her voice.“But could you at least put me in touch with the case’s team head?Maybe I could provide some insight as someone who knew the victim.”

Meredith shook his head, his features immovable as carved stone.“No, Paige.I know from experience that giving you even an inch in a case like this is a bad idea.You’re too good at what you do, and you’d find a way to involve yourself more deeply than you should.”

“But sir …”

“I’m sorry, Agent Paige, but the answer is no.”

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