As Gabriela finished setting the table for breakfast, she placed a small vase containing three yellow daisies on the table—a touch of brightness.
Just then, the laptop chimed.
“It’s her!”Jilly exclaimed unnecessarily as she accepted the video call.
The emotions Riley felt about April’s absence at college had surprised her with their intensity.Pride dominated—pride in April’s scholarship, her determination to follow a challenging path despite the traumas she’d experienced in her young life.But beneath that pride lurked a persistent worry.The world contained dangers that most parents never imagined, dangers that Riley had confronted firsthand.Knowing what humans were capable of made letting go of her daughter almost unbearable.
“Isn’t it working yet?”Jilly asked.
“Almost,” Riley replied, clicking the video icon for the third time.“The internet’s being temperamental.”
Then the connection stabilized, and April’s face filled the screen—familiar yet somehow different, as if college had already begun reshaping her into someone new.Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, tendrils escaping around her face in a way that reminded Riley of her own younger self.
“Hey, Mom!”April’s smile brightened her entire face.“And Jilly!And Gabriela!Is everyone there?”
“We’re all here, honey,” Riley said, feeling the familiar tug in her chest—pride mixed with the ache of separation.“Bill’s joining too,” she added.“He’s out in Nashville on a case, but he should be connecting any—”
The screen split, making room for Bill’s tired face.He sat propped against a hotel headboard.His expression brightened visibly at the sight of them.
“There’s my favorite Paige women,” he said.“And Gabriela, of course.How’s everyone doing?”
“Bill!”April’s excitement was palpable.“So glad you’re here!”
“So, do you have any news?”Bill asked.
“Do I ever!”
For the next ten minutes, April bubbled with stories—the late-night study group that turned into an impromptu pizza party, the intimidating library with its labyrinthine stacks, the roommate who organized her sock drawer by color gradient.
“And how about classes?”Riley asked during a natural pause.“Are they what you expected?”
“Mostly,” April said, shifting slightly in her desk chair.The movement caused her laptop to reveal more of her dorm room—a slightly rumpled bed, a half-empty coffee cup on the windowsill.“Psych 101 is basically a review of what you taught me over the years, Mom.Introduction to Criminal Justice is fascinating—we’re covering investigative procedures next week.American Politics is...interesting.The professor’s super intense.”
“What about the social scene?”Bill asked, his voice casual.“Meeting new people?Making friends?”
“Yeah, tons,” April said, her posture relaxing slightly.“My roommate introduced me to her high school friends, and there’s this group from my dorm floor that gets together for dinner most nights.”She hesitated, then added with forced nonchalance, “I actually met this interesting guy in my American Politics class last week.”
Riley’s attention sharpened, though she kept her expression neutral.“Oh?Tell us about him.”
“Not much to tell, really,” April said with a small shrug that seemed rehearsed.“We just chatted for a bit after class.”She took a sip from a water bottle beside her.“We grabbed coffee at the cafeteria, but then he kind of disappeared.Hasn’t been back to class since.”
Bill’s eyes met Riley’s through their respective screens—a quick, concerned glance.
“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?”Riley asked.
“Just, you know, stopped showing up,” April replied.“But he was only auditing the class anyhow.”
Jilly, who had been quiet throughout most of the conversation, leaned closer to the screen.“Was he cute?”she asked with the blunt curiosity of a fifteen-year-old.
April rolled her eyes but smiled.“I guess?Kind of intense looking.Dark hair, really confident.He knew a lot about the FBI, actually.”She looked directly at Riley.
“So does this guy have a name?”Jilly asked.
“Yeah, his name is Leo.”
Riley was seized by a chill from head to foot.
Could it be … ?she wondered.
