Page 9 of Once Broken
“Come on,” Riley said to Ann Marie.“Let’s go catch a killer.”
CHAPTER THREE
The BAU jet banked gently as it began its final descent into Atlanta.Riley hadn’t slept during the two-hour journey, her mind alternating between the case file spread across her lap and the image of April’s face when she’d learned about Leo Dillard.Even now, thousands of feet in the air and hundreds of miles from Virginia, she felt the tug of competing responsibilities.
“We’re about five minutes from landing,” Ann Marie announced.
Soon the jet’s wheels bumped gently on the tarmac, the engines reversing thrust with a roar.As they taxied toward a private section of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, Riley’s phone chimed with an incoming text.She quickly retrieved the device from her pocket.
It was from Bill: “Campus security briefed.They’re reviewing all surveillance footage for Dillard.”
Relief washed through her.She typed a quick “Thank you” before tucking the phone away.
“April?”the younger agent asked.
“Bill’s got things under control,” Riley said, her voice steadier than she felt.“Let’s focus on why we’re here.”
“Do you think this is the start of something bigger?”
“Let’s not get ahead of the evidence,” Riley cautioned, though the same question had been nagging at her.Serial killers who chose theatrical, public displays rarely stopped at one victim.
The jet came to a complete stop, and the engines wound down.When Riley and Ann Marie descended the jet’s stairs into the humid Atlanta afternoon, they saw a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark suit standing beside an unmarked police sedan.He stepped forward to meet them.
“Agent Paige,” he said, his grip firm as they shook hands.“Detective Marcus Hayes, Atlanta PD Homicide.Thank you for coming so quickly.”His voice carried the subtle cadence of someone born and raised in the South.
“Riley Paige,” she confirmed.“This is Special Agent Ann Marie Esmer.”
Hayes nodded toward Ann Marie, shaking her hand as well.“Ma’am.Car’s right over here.I figured we’d head straight to the studio.”
He led them to the sedan, opening the rear door for Ann Marie while Riley took the passenger seat.Once they were all settled, Hayes pulled away from the airstrip, navigating through the maze of service roads that would eventually lead them to the main highway.
“I appreciate the Bureau’s quick response,” Hayes said.“This case has the potential to become a media nightmare.Already is, really.”
Riley understood his concern.“Tell us more about the witnesses.Thirty people, Meredith said?”
“Thirty-three, to be exact,” Hayes replied, merging onto the highway.“Most of them were part of the same group that attended the screening ofThe Night Walkerat the Majestic Theater downtown, then followed Gillian Sinclair—she’s the head of Magnolia Gateway—to the studio for what she called a ‘special surprise.’Turns out the surprise was this elaborate re-creation of the nightclub set from the film.”
“Were these people checked in through security?”Riley asked.
Hayes shook his head.“Not formally.It was a private event, invitation only.Gillian Sinclair personally knew most of the attendees—film critics, industry people, a few academic types who specialize in classic cinema.We’ve been working on nailing down the exact list.Most of them were still there when officers arrived, traumatized but cooperative.”
“Security cameras?”
“They don’t have security cameras on a soundstage.Some outside the building are still being checked.”
“And the festival’s been canceled?”Ann Marie asked from the back seat.
“Officially postponed,” Hayes corrected, “though no one expects it to resume anytime soon.Roberta Rimes’ centennial was supposed to be a big deal for Atlanta.The mayor’s office is devastated, both by the loss and the potential impact on tourism.”
Riley asked, “Why did you specifically request BAU assistance, Detective?Local homicide could handle a poisoning case, even a high-profile one.”
Hayes was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing his response.“Two reasons,” he finally said.“First, the theatrical nature of the crime—this wasn’t just a murder, it was a performance.That level of pathology is beyond what we typically see, even in a city the size of Atlanta.Second...”He hesitated.“There’s the potential for copycat incidents.Roberta Rimes died in different ways in at least three of her films.If our killer is working through some kind of filmography-based fantasy...”
“You think we could be looking at multiple planned murders,” Riley concluded.
“I hope to God I’m wrong,” Hayes said grimly.“But if I’m not, we need to get ahead of this.And frankly, Agent Paige, your reputation precedes you.Glad to have you here for this one.”
The remainder of the drive passed with Hayes filling them in on the preliminary forensics.The poison—confirmed as strychnine—had been in Veronica Slate’s Manhattan cocktail, most likely added while she was performing on the small stage.Fingerprints on the glass belonged only to the victim and the bartender, a studio employee who had been thoroughly vetted and cleared.
