"We've only been here five minutes," Garcia said and looked at Emily.

The black-haired woman stood at the bar and ordered drinks for the four of them.

"Yeah, but look at her. She broke away from the group. The guy saw her alone, felt confident and made his move. Right, Parker?"

"Sorry, what?"

The young adult wasn't really listening and looked up from their phone.

"Are you really texting with Spencer? You saw each other like 30 minutes ago."

Parker's cheeks turned slightly red and they put the phone back in their jacket pocket.

Garcia and JJ grinned at each other. They were happy that things were getting better between Parker and Spencer. The whole team was happy that the two had managed to talk to each other.

Meanwhile, Parker looked at Emily, who came to the table followed by a man and with the drinks.

"It has to be serious," Garcia commented when they were not yet within earshot.

"Ladies and Pal, this is Brad, a real FBI agent," Emily introduced the man.

"Really?"

"Really."

"No way."

"That's exciting."

"What's it like at Quantico?" asked Garcia.

"It's quite impressive."

"What department are you in?" JJ wanted to know.

"That's classified," Brad replied, trying to appear mysterious.

"Must be really tough keeping all those secrets," said Parker. "I couldn't do that."

"Well, you know, it's a skill like anything else. Carpenters are good at building stuff, measuring. FBI's good at keeping secrets and kicking criminal ass," Brad replied.

Parker had to fight hard not to laugh. The man didn't know what was happening to him.

"Wow."

"Well, somebody's got to do it," Emily commented. "Do you have to carry your gun and badge with you everywhere you go?"

"Affirmatives."

"Can we see it?"

"See what?"

"Your badge."

"Please?"

"I'm sorry, that's–"

"– Classified," the real FBI agents finished the sentence.

"Figures."

"Of course."

"Tell me, Brad, does it look anything like this?" Emily asked and showed Brad her badge.

"Or this?" – JJ took her badge out of her pocket.

"Or maybe this?" – Garcia showed her badge.

"And what about this?" – Parker held Brad their badge under his nose.

Brad knew he had no chance and walked away without another word.

The women and Parker started giggling.

"Kicking Criminal ass. It's a tough job."

While Parker was stuffing their badge into their jacket pocket, JJ received a call and stepped away a few stepp.

"Lady, you are officially in my top eight, and I am so blogging about this later," Garcia said to Emily. "Clink me– you too Parker."

The three clinked glasses. At that same moment, JJ came back to them with an expression of her face they knew all too well.

"Sorry, guys."

~~~~

"A year ago, victims and their vehicles disappeared from Washington state. They were found over 200 miles away in the remote woods of Idaho. Courtney Jacobs, 24, and Shane Everett, 25. Autopsy revealed similar entry and exit wounds through the chest."

In the meeting room there was a board with a map of the forests. And on the screen, pictures of the victims.

"Ballistics?"

"No bullets were found."

"It looks like they were out there for a long time before they were killed," Emily said after taking a look at the file.

"At least six or seven days."

"What happened that week?"

"I don't want to know," Garcia made clear.

"Look at the way they're dressed," Spencer pointed out to the others. "They didn't voluntarily go into the woods like that."

"Yeah, neither did this man–"

Photos of the third and newest victim appeared on the screen.

"– Found yesterday with similar wounds. There's still no ID."

"Okay, so I'm going to look for missing persons in Washington," Garcia reported.

"Look everywhere. We don't know where this victim came from. We only know where he ended up."

"Kills both males and females."

"Victims were found with their clothes on. No degradation, no experimentation. Doesn't look like he's interested in either," Hoch added as he also looked at the pictures in the file.

"A serial killer with no sexual preference?"

"That'd be a first," commented Parker.

"Broken nose and bark's embedded in his face."

"Looks like he ran into a tree."

"Now, how do you miss a huge tree?" asked Derek.

"Too busy looking behind you."

"None of these are defensive wounds."

"Courtney Jacobs' hands are torn up."

"Shane Everett's only got one shoe on. It's like he ran right out of the other one."

"They sustained numerous injuries and just kept going."

"Only one thing you run that hard for. Your life."

~~~~

"One man's wilderness is another man's theme park."

Author unknown.

"Transporting young, fit victims from Washington to Idaho poses huge risks," said Hoch.

The team was spread out on the jet and JJ handed everyone another file.

"Must have a good reason to have a chance getting pulled over or have the victims escape."

"It says here that every year, 100 or so people go missing in Idaho's wilderness. With millions of acres to cover, a third of them are never found," Spencer said reading from the file.

"Sounds like the reason why this place."

"Well, it offers privacy and the possibility the body will never be recovered."

"An area this remote and rugged suggests that the offender's more comfortable in the woods. Something like a second home."

"My grandfather retired to the French Alps. He lived there until he died. There was a good 10-year stretch where he didn't come down off the mountain. He had no running water, no electricity, and his food, supplies. Everything, all of it came from the land," Emily said.

"You spend a lot of time up there?"

"Yeah. Whenever we were in France. Which was a lot."

Suddenly the laptop beeped, and Derek clicked on the video chat with Garcia.

"Guess who's getting a gold star?"

"Well, that would be you, baby girl, if you've got some good news for us."

"Well, I started my missing persons search in Spokane county, and wouldn't you know, there's been 10 in the last five years, all in their early 20s. And isn't this interesting? It's always in the spring, and those cars are never recovered. And fret not, I'm looking for the cars, too," reported the technical analyst.

"Anything else?", Derek asked.

"Local P.D. identified the latest victim through dental records. His name's Alex Harrison. He's from Washington."

"Where was he last seen?"

"Family statements say he was traveling to work in Spokane, and both victims last year were traveling outside of Spokane, too."

"All victims headed to the city."

"And none of them reached their destination."

"Garcia?"

"Already on it. There are four major highways into Spokane. Highways 395, 195 and Highway 2. There's also Interstate 90."

"Were there any police reports or roadside assistance calls from those highways?"

"You're gonna know that as soon as I do", Garcia assured and hung up.

"Okay, we've got two locations."

"I'm happy to go to Idaho", said Gideon. "The woods is like your second home, right, Prentiss?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hey, Reid, why don't you go to Spokane? I could use the fresh air," Derek suggested.

Parker's mouth twitched upwards, and they exchanged glances with Spencer and JJ.

"We'll touch base every couple of hours."

"I'll call you when we get on the mountain."

~~~~

Gideon parked the car in front the shops on the main street of the small town. There was a lot going on in the parking lot, there were several trucks and jeeps and even caravans there.

The profilers walked past one of the trucks that had a dead deer in the back. Parker wasn't quite fond of hunting. But it was a free country, so–

"You think this guy looks bad, you should see the driver," commented a young man as he stood next to Parker and Gideon. "He needed 10 stitches."

Gideon chuckled. Parker looked away from the animal and let their gaze wander. They noticed some kind of board and the young agent stepped closer to read at the flyers.

It was nothing special, rules for the hunting season, information about various weapons and offers from the shop on whose wall the board was hanging.

"You better hurry. All the groups are filling up. You like the challenge of a bear, don't you?" the young man continued.

"Actually, I prefer picking up my meat at a grocery store," Giden replied.

The older profiler also turned away from the truck and walked over to Parker.

"Oh, you're one of those, huh? What about you? You also don't hunt, like your dad?" the guy asked Parker directly.

"I'm a vegetarian," Parker replied simply.

"Oh, well, better be careful out there, 'cause in three days it's going to get busy as hell up on our mountain."

"Hunting season?"

"Yeah, ever since someone wrote about us in some fancy travel magazine, we've got loads of tourists migrating up here."

"If I was going to take out an animal anywhere from 100, 200 pounds, what type of weapon would I use?" asked Gideon.

"A shotgun and a compound bow are the tops, but buckshot can be a bit messy," the young man explained, pointing to a flyer about a particular bow.

"I love arrows. It can completely penetrate the body of a small animal. It's the most effective kill."

"Arrows," Gideon repeated deep in his thoughts.

The older profiler stepped away and retrieved the phone from his jacket pocket.

Parker thanked the young man and followed their mentor across the parking lot.

"Hunting season officially opens in three days. Does it look like the victim's wounds could be from an arrow?" Gideon asked the person on the phone.

When Parker stopped next to him, he turned on speaker.

"Whatever punctured the organs had to be long enough to penetrate the chest and mimic a .22 caliber bullet. So, yeah, it's possible," said Spencer.

"I think these victims are being caught, taken to the woods and hunted like wild animals."

~~~~

Parker and Gideon then met with Derek, Emily and a group of rangers to present the profile.

"We're looking for at least two offenders in good physical condition," Parker began.

"They'd have to be fit to make it through this terrain."

"And nobody would go that deep into the woods without backup."

"Killing teams are like most partnerships. One weak, the other strong."

"These men haven't exhibited any sexual interest in their victims. So they're either developmentally prepubescent."

"Or they could be related. Immediate relatives wouldn't discuss sexual encounters, let alone perform them in front of each other."

"If they are related, they could have an us-versus-them mentality. Their bond will be unbreakable, because it's all they know," Emily added.

"Most hunters put animals out of their misery. The men we're looking for, they don't show any mercy."

"These guys take pleasure in watching their casualties die a slow death."

"Every spring for the past five years, people have gone missing. We think the killers wait for their prey to migrate through these woods. Courtney Jacobs, Shane Everett and Alex Harrison were all healthy, smart adults who survived for days by following their instincts. They found themselves in the middle of nowhere. They were either approached in a way that wasn't threatening."

"Or the offenders waited for a moment of weakness, the perfect time to attack."

"These particular hunters are very seasoned. They're very efficient. It's no surprise that they've chosen a weapon to be a compound bow. It requires the utmost precision, and it provides them with a challenge every time."

"Like the trophy hunter, these men, they plan their killings with care. They decide the type of victims they want, how and where they want to kill them and with what weapon."

"Hunting is their sport. Humans are their targets."

"Use every hunter's instinct in your bodies. Good luck."

~~

Less than fifteen minutes after the profile was presented, the profilers received a fax from Hotch. A young woman Bobbi Baird didn't show up at her sister's house even though she had an interview scheduled for a new job in the city.

"It's been three days since they killed Alex Harrison. Why'd they take another victim so soon?" a ranger asked Evans.

"This is their hunting season. And they can't waste any time."

"Only two days before it gets crowded around here. They won't have any more privacy."

"If Bobbi Baird is her next victim, she could be on her way."

Evans grabbed her radio.

"This is Evans. I need roadblocks now."

"Copy that."

~~~~

It was almost idyllic. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and the birds were chirping. But none of the agents or rangers could enjoy it.

"We're standing in the middle of three million acres. She could be anywhere. We've only got two murder sites, miles apart. There's no pattern yet."

"Both sites are low-lying. They can be tracked from above," Derek noticed as he looked at the map.

"Maybe there are blinds built into the trees, or at least access to them."

"With good vantage points, they can see their prey for miles."

Parker let their gaze wander while the others spoke. Garcia discovered that only two stores nearby sold the same bows the UnSubs used.

Shortly later, Parker was asked to go back and meet up with the others.

~~~~

"Do you keep records to document who buys hunting arrows?", Hotch asked the cashier.

Parker entered the store and stopped next to him, Spencer and Sheriff Schaeffer. Spencer discreetly grabbed Parker's hand, tapped the back of their hand four times and let it go again.

"After a week, we only keep receipts if they pay by credit card," explained the woman.

"You get a lot of repeat business up here, don't you?"

"Every year people get their ammo and supplies here before heading up to the mountains."

"Groups of men? Like fathers and sons?" Spencer asked.

"Sure. Can I ask you, why is this a police matter?"

"We're looking for two men, possibly related. You might remember them because one always does all the talking and the other would become very uncomfortable if you spoke to him."

"It'd be even worse if that person were a female," Parker added.

"Well, there are these two brothers that have been coming here for years. They got some supplies here a few days ago," she reported.

The shop owner reached into a box and pulled out the receipts from the last few days and went through them while she continued talking.

"The younger one's so painfully shy, it's almost sweet. Even after all these years, he still hasn't warmed up to me. Their uncle was a quiet man, and he passed away some time ago–"

The woman stopped and pulled out a piece of paper from the pile.

"Did you find a receipt?"

"Well, they paid in cash," she murmured.

"Let me take a look at that," said Hotch and accepted the receipt.

"I'm pretty sure her name was Mulford. I think her uncle's name was Joe," added the shop owner.

"Thank you very much."

"I'll call Garcia," Spencer reported.

The profilers and the sheriff left the store and the young genius dialed Garcia's number.

"Garcia, I need everything you have on a man named Joseph Mulford."

"Okay, it says here Joseph Mulford was convicted of multiple assault and batteries. He owned a service station, but it changed hands when he passed away. He gave it to his nephews, Paul and John Mulford."

"We don't have to ask where it's located, do we?"

"No, you don't. But since you did, gorgeous gray matter, I'll have you know I'm pulling it up right now. And the computer says– Whoa."

"What is it?" Parker wanted to know.

"That service station, it's located on Highway 2.2"

"Let me guess, close to where the victims went missing?"

"Bull's eye."

~~~~

"Still not open. How convenient," commented Spencer.

Parker parked the car behind the one with Hotch and Sheriff Schaeffer. All four reached for their guns as they approached the service station.

"Let's take a look around."

Sheriff Schaeffer opened the small door that led to the garage– it wasn't even locked yet.

The others waited outside until the sheriff opened the big garage door.

"It's clear," he explained.

Parker put away their gun and walked with the others through the garage into the backyard. There was a car parked right by the door outside, covered with a tarp.

Spencer pushed the tarp aside and a red car appeared.

"It's a Mustang."

"Same make and model as Bobbi Baird. These are definitely our guys."

~~

It didn't take long until reinforcements arrived and the entire property including the container could be searched.

Parker opened a container and inside was a dusty, yellow car.

"Hey, Hotch, you should see this," JJ called out.

The young woman had opened the container next to Parker and there was a car in it too.

"Hey, what color was Alex Harrison's car?" Spencer asked after opening another container.

"It was blue", the sheriff replied. "Why?"

"I think we found it, along with some others."

"If all of these have cars–," JJ muttered, pointing to the other two rows of containers.

"– We're looking at a lot more victims."

~~

The Mulfords' house had a lot of stuffed animals– too many. Some animal heads were hanging on the wall and birds had been attached to small platforms on the wall.

Parker tried not to feel weird, which proved to be quite difficult as there were dozens of pairs of eyes staring down at them and the others.

"Guys, look at this," Parker heard their boyfriend's voice.

The young man stood in front of a small cupboard. There were at least a dozen driver's licenses hanging on the inside of the door.

"First one expired in 1980."

"The boys weren't even born yet," explained the sheriff.

"The uncle must have started the killing, and the boys have continued the tradition."

"I'll call Garcia," said Parker and it didn't take long for Garcia to get the information they wanted.

"Paul and John Mulford, 26 and 22, were orphaned as toddlers," she began.

"Abandonment issues."

"State kept them together by finding the only living relative, their uncle. He raised his nephews completely off the grid. They never went to school."

"No socialization other than the patrons of the station."

"He was drafted in 1968," reported JJ, holding a document in her hand. "He was only 18 years old."

"He was relieved from duty two years later," Garcia added. "Reports of hallucinations and delusions."

"The boys were raised with no social compass by the only relative they ever knew."

"A psychotic possessed with bizarre beliefs who taught them how to hunt and who to kill," Parker muttered.

"Look at this," Hotch said and showed the others a photo.

The photo showed two boys, each holding a wooden bow.

"– They've been hunting these woods their whole lives."

When another call came, everyone basically stopped moving.

"Aha– okay– thanks– they found Bobbie. She's the only one who survived. Including the Mulfords."

British historian James Anthony Froude once said,

"Wild animals never kill for sport. Man is the only one to whom the torture and death of his fellow creatures is amusing in itself."