CHAPTER 1:
ENUCLEATOR
(5x6: the eyes have it)

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        SHE WAS STANDING IN FRONT of the mirrored wardrobe in her bedroom, observing her reflection. Her red hair, nice makeup, the black dress and matching high heels, the silver 'good luck' ring etched with poker cards on her right middle finger. She looked like someone ready for a funeral—her own, probably. Despite staying up late to review the digital catalog in her mind and analyze her bosses' behavior, she felt like a complete failure. She wasn't used to this feeling. She knew her usual results, and this one seemed utterly dreadful.

        She bit her lip, giving herself one last glance before turning away from the mirror and walking back into the living room. She would make it work somehow. She always did. And those times had been under far more life-threatening circumstances. This was just an office job. Well, not entirely, because they would travel around the country to catch serial killers. But still, it was worlds away from the run-down apartment in El Paso, where she had crouched for months to complete her last mission.

        With these lighthearted thoughts in mind, Bess slid into her fire-red Boss 429 Mustang parked in the garage of the towering building that housed her penthouse. Despite being an old-timer—it had rolled off the production line back in 1969, costing her father a small fortune—it still ran better than any car she'd ever driven. Like Tony Sinclair before passing it down to his daughter, Bess made sure to take good care of it. If she loved anything in this world, it was this car. She would sooner die than trade it for another.

        The drive to Quantico was quicker than anticipated, she rolled into the underground garage and chose a spot beside a sleek black Cadillac. The engine's hum was replaced with the tapping of her heels echoing in the concrete cave as she headed to the elevators. She didn't have to search for them, the exact layout of the place had been given to her previously, among everything else. A knowledge that could raise suspicion if she wasn't careful.

        As soon as the elevator doors slid open on the sixth floor, she stepped into the brightly lit hallway. The bullpen was straight ahead, and she didn't hesitate to move forward once she spotted the blonde woman sitting inside at a table with a black man. Section Chief Erin Strauss and Derek Morgan. It appeared they had spared her a journey down the corridor to the woman's office.

        Bess reached into the black sports bag hanging on her shoulder, pulling out a carefully folded letter with the official seal of the FBI embossed on its corner. Signed by the director himself, this letter was her all-access pass. It held the weight to open every door and silence every question, though she knew they would ask some anyway. She entered the bullpen and walked up to the pair sitting at the table by the kitchen. "Section Chief Erin Strauss?" Bess asked, staring down at the woman.

        "Yes?" Her brows furrowed as she looked the redhead over, and Bess handed her the letter without another word. She took it away under the watchful eyes of the BAU team—Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, and Dr Spencer Reid were in the bullpen too, following Strauss and Morgan's conversation from their cubicles. Once she read the letter, Strauss looked up, stating, "I wasn't notified about this."

        "No, ma'am. It was a decision finalized only this morning," Bess replied, keeping her tone steady as she watched the section chief's gaze flicker to Morgan.

        "What?" the bald man in the nice suit asked, not understanding what was happening. And how could he really?

        "What's going on?" a voice came from behind Bess, and she turned her head to look at its speaker. A tall man with jet-black hair and piercing dark brown eyes, that seemed to cut through the room like an eagle's gaze. He wore a black suit, the fabric perfectly pressed, a crisp white shirt, and a tie knotted with precision, much like the laces of his classic, polished black leather oxford shoes. It was the previous unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.

        "SSA Elizabeth Sinclair. I'm the new unit chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit," Bess introduced herself, holding out a hand for the man to shake.

        He didn't. Instead, he turned to look at Strauss with a hard stare. "I thought we'd agreed on Morgan taking over," he told her in a tone matching his look.

        "And we had. I didn't know about this until now," Strauss answered honestly, handing over the signed letter to Hotch as she stood up, while Morgan was too stunned to either speak or move.

        "The director wrote this?" Hotch mumbled, his brows furrowing as he reread the words for a second time, just to be sure. But there was no mistake, it was there in black and white. Supervisory Special Agent Elizabeth Sinclair had been nominated as unit chief by Director Jack Fickler. This just didn't sit right with him. He had stepped down by his own choice, so they wouldn't bring in an outsider. Yet, here she was.

        He looked up, his jaw clenched tight as stone as he considered his options, though there were almost none left. The director agreed to this, so he either accepted it too or could go and find himself a new job. Drawing a steadying breath, he forced himself to remain calm. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, Agent Sinclair. This was just an unexpected turn of events. My name's Aaron Hotchner." He extended his hand, and Bess shook it firmly.

        "Not a problem, Agent Hotchner."

        "Hotch? What is happening?" the brunette woman called Emily Prentiss asked as she approached them, closely followed by JJ, Garcia, and Reid, each of whom Bess recognized from the photos in their case files she had meticulously studied before coming here.

        Hotch exchanged another glance with Strauss, then turned toward his team members. "This is SSA Elizabeth Sinclair, our new unit chief."

        As expected, all the BAU agents stared at Bess as if she had just been introduced as the president of Mars. To be fair, if their roles were reversed, she'd likely be wearing the same expression of shock and confusion. But now, standing in front of them, she had no choice but to face the skepticism head-on. "But... But why?" Garcia mumbled, looking at Hotch. "You said Morgan is taking over."

        "The director signed off on this, Garcia. It doesn't matter what I told you before. This is what it is now," Hotch told the blonde woman, whose appearance Bess found quite extraordinary. Her makeup was impeccable, her hair carefully styled and adorned with a colorful ribbon. Leopard-printed glasses perched on her nose and cute Buddha earrings dangled from her ears.

        "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss." The brunette woman standing between the two blondes held out her hand and Bess didn't hesitate to shake it. She would have bet a large sum of money that Emily would be the first to reach out to her. The two blonde women on either side of her also introduced themselves, though both showed a level of reluctance either in their eyes or handshakes. JJ, the communication liaison, and Garcia, the technical analyst.

        "I'm Dr Spencer Reid. Uh, I'd prefer not to shake hands. The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss." The boy with the two crutches pursed his lips tight as he stared at her, and Bess almost burst out in loud laughter upon hearing this. She would have certainly gone on a date with the guy who used this pick-up line on her, though Reid likely hadn't meant it that way.

        "What happened to you?" she asked instead, surveying his crutches that helped him stay on his feet.

        "I, uh, got shot during one of our previous cases," Reid explained with a nod, then his gaze moved onto Morgan as he emerged from his seat behind Bess.

        She turned around, facing the muscular agent with an interested look. "SSA Derek Morgan," he stated firmly. His handshake was strong and confident, yet there was an unmistakable tension in his grip that told her he wasn't accepting of the situation. She couldn't bring herself to feel angry at him for that.

        "Alright. I think we're all set then," Bess declared, her gaze moving around the six agents gathered around her, yet she had no idea what to do next.

        Fortunately, JJ helped her out before the situation got even more embarrassing. "I'll inform Rossi about our new case." She glanced at Hotch for a second, then turned around and hurried off towards the stairs leading to the two offices on the other side of the bullpen.

        Bess looked around the place, memorizing everything and everyone inside, then her gaze came to a rest on Hotch as he offered, "I'll clear everything out of my office after this case. It can be all yours."

        "There's no need for that, Agent Hotchner. I've already had an office. The director informed me that Agent Hall's retiring in a month, but he'll be finishing his caseload at home, so I can use his office," she explained, noting both his and Strauss' stunned looks. "So, what case was Agent Jareau talking about?" Bess raised an eyebrow, glad that she could keep the conversation going.

        For a moment, nobody answered her, but then Strauss spoke up, "This one. It's in Oklahoma City," she added after handing over the light brown folder to Bess, and she took a quick peek inside.

        "We usually debrief in the conference room," Reid informed her, waving his head toward the room on their right.

        Bess took a good look at the corner office with the large windows, then nodded at Reid in agreement. "Let's go then." But before she could follow after the team, Strauss stepped in front of her. Bess noted that the section chief was at least two inches shorter than her, even with her high heels on.

        "I'll be checking in. I expect to be briefed," Strauss declared, prompting Bess to raise an eyebrow. She knew a lot about Erin Strauss and the kind of woman she was, and she certainly didn't make it onto her 'favorite people' list.

        "I think I can handle this position. That's why the director assigned me," Bess replied, meeting the woman's hard stare without flinching. She was always a daredevil, something that would likely be her undoing one day. The corner of her lips twitched for a moment as a smug smile crossed her face. "But I guess you can reach me on my cell, ma'am," she added, then after a brief pause, excused herself and set off toward the conference room.

        Once Bess was introduced to the last team member, David Rossi—who, surprisingly, took the news better than the others, likely because his age and experience gave him a different perspective—they all took a seat around the round table and JJ started the briefing. "This is Megan Chertow and her friend Bina Sukarto. Both 17, found two nights ago in a parking garage, carotids severed." JJ brought up the two girls' close-ups on the TV screen, and Bess studied their faces before both got replaced with pictures of a man. "This is John O'Heron, 61. He was found dead in a wooded area four days ago. Blunt force trauma to the head."

        "Different MO," Rossi stated, drawing Bess' attention to himself. She chose not to say a word as she surveyed her new team, wanting to get to know them to the best of her ability. Everything she couldn't find in a database.

        "And completely different victimology," Emily added, glancing at Rossi for a second.

        "How are the cases linked?"

        JJ answered by showing them the pictures the ME had taken. "Their eyes have been removed."

        The young guy, Reid, straightened up in his chair, his voice ringing with excitement, "Oh, he's an enucleator!"

        "There's a name for this?" JJ grimaced, taking the last empty seat around the table.

        Hotch was the one reacting, "It's a rare subset of criminal behavior, but there have been case studies of assaultive enucleators."

        "The overwhelming majority of them suffer from diagnosed mental disorders," Emily explained to the blonde woman.

        "And they're usually males, lack social skills. Their kills are disorganized and sloppy," Reid commented, fidgeting with his pen.

        Morgan spoke up, "The typical enucleator gouges the eyes out, but he doesn't normally take them with him."

        Hearing this, Bess chimed in with a surprised look appearing on her face, "This guy did?"

        They all turned to her, almost as if they'd forgotten she was in the room. And maybe they had. "We need to figure out why," Morgan said after a few seconds, though his expression still showed a form of resentment towards her as his eyes narrowed slightly.

        "There are noticeable shifts from the first to the second murder. He goes from killing in seclusion to a public place," Rossi continued the conversation about victimology, noting the tension between Bess and Morgan. It made him wonder why was that.

        "And he escalated from one victim to two," Hotch added with a firm nod.

        "What concerns me most is there's less than 48 hours between the murders. That's why I chose this case," Morgan informed them, then bit his tongue as he realized that he wasn't in charge anymore.

        Hotch didn't seem to notice—or show that he cared about—Morgan's internal struggle as he declared, "And from what we know about enucleators, they're almost always multiple repeat offenders, which means he's going to need to kill again soon."

        After this statement, nobody talked more, leaving the room in uncomfortable silence. Bess had a gut feeling that they were waiting for her, but she had no idea what they were expecting. Should she say something or what? But before she could make a sound, Morgan burst out, "Do you even know how to do this job?"

        Bess slowly turned to face him, noticing how everyone else averted their eyes. Their two pair of brown eyes locked as Bess spoke in a cold tone she rarely used, "I think I know a lot more than you realize, Agent Morgan. And I understand you don't like this situation, but it wasn't my decision to come here." Her gaze swept over the other agents, searching for any other signs of rebellion. "I can be a bitch if that's what you want. I'm sure it'll make everyone's job harder. Or," she paused, looking at Morgan again, "You can accept me, and we can get on with why we're here. But if you don't fancy coming along, let me know. I'm sure we can find something else for you to do."

        Morgan didn't respond as he chewed on his tongue. His jaw was even tenser than Hotch's had been when he read Director Fickler's letter, which was saying something. He emerged from his seat and walked out of the room without a word, and Bess stared after him. She had been warned that they would likely be against her presence, but she wasn't prepared for this level of aversion.

        "Uh, Agent Sinclair—" JJ started, but Bess cut her off.

        "Sinclair is fine. Can we stick to just simple last names, please? I think it would be easier for everyone," she offered, carrying her gaze around the five agents still in the room. They all nodded in agreement. "Alright. What did you want to say, Jareau?"

        "The pilots usually need about half an hour to get the jet ready for takeoff. I'd like to inform them about our destination, so we can go as soon as possible."

        "Sure, do that. Thank you," Bess agreed, relieved that not all of them acted like annoying jerks. "See you in 30 minutes, then." She stood up and exited the room, heading straight for the elevator. She wanted to grab a smoke before she had to sit with Morgan for another hour it would take to get to Oklahoma City. It would certainly be a pleasant experience.

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        ONCE THE JET TOOK OFF, the team didn't hesitate to continue their debriefing. Bess sat beside Hotch on one side of the club suite in one of the cozy beige leather seats, facing Rossi and Reid on the opposite side of the wooden table, which was filled to the brim with files and pictures. Emily shared the couch with Morgan, while JJ was sitting on the small table next to it. Bess believed this was a routine they used to follow, and since she didn't intend to change how their unit operated, she leaned back in her seat, remaining silent as she allowed them to handle things in their own way.

        "The colors of all the victims' eyes are different. So, that probably doesn't factor into victimology," Emily shared her thoughts on the matter as she let down her case file into her lap.

        Reid agreed, "It's more likely what he sees in the eyes. Case studies show that most enucleators suffer from delusions."

        "They hear voices and see things in people's eyes," Morgan added, deliberately avoiding Bess' gaze as he focused on the case files laid out on his lap. She noted that he still wasn't fully on board with her, but at least he was keeping his thoughts to himself now.

        Rossi nodded. "Usually something evil. They're driven to enucleate to destroy the Devil."

        "It points to someone who may have been institutionalized and recently released," Hotch remarked, reading the case file which Bess had remembered word for word by now.

        "I'll have Garcia start looking," JJ offered, pulling her phone from her back pocket.

        "Alright, so tell me, what makes these attacks so different?" Bess joined the conversation, putting down the file from her hands onto the tabletop as she looked around. She tried to quickly bridge the gap in their knowledge, and the more she learned, the more extensive that knowledge became, allowing her to worry less about fitting in.

        Hotch began as he looked at her, "With Victim One, there were multiple blunt force strikes to the head. A more personal kill," he explained.

        "And he disposed of the body, maybe as a forensic countermeasure," Emily continued, prompting an agreeing nod from Bess.

        The next person speaking up was Rossi, "The next murders seemed less personal, more opportunistic."

        "I think we need to look at why the first victim was bludgeoned and dumped," Morgan stated, finally looking at Bess. It wasn't an order, just a pretty strong suggestion, unmistakably telling her he remained confident she was unfit to handle the role she managed to snag for herself.

        "Perhaps the UnSub knew him," Emily guessed, not noticing the tension growing once again, and Bess tore his gaze from Morgan to look at her instead.

        "Prentiss, I want you to go to the disposal site, and see if you can figure out why O'Heron was dumped there. Rossi, you and I are gonna go to last night's crime scene." Bess looked at the senior agent sitting across from her. It felt strange to order people around, she wasn't used to it. But this was how her superiors had assigned her own tasks, so she figured all she had to do was apply that same strategy, but the other way around.

        Before she could continue, JJ chimed in, "Actually, uh, one of the girls' families asked to speak to our team leader."

        "Oh, alright," Bess accepted the new situation, quickly coming up with another plan. "Um, in that case, Rossi, take Morgan with you to handle the crime scene. Jareau, you're with me, and Hotchner, Reid, I want you to get into John O'Heron's life. See if anything at all points to a personal motive," she assigned their tasks, and no one chose to question her this time. Not even Morgan.

        After landing, everyone went their separate ways as agreed. Twenty minutes later, Bess and JJ arrived at the Sukarto house, where Bina's sister, Lani, welcomed them inside. "Thank you for coming," she said once they were seated in the dimly lit living room. The space was illuminated by candlelight, with an entire table dedicated to the dead girl filled with her photos, flowers, and other items for the family's rituals.

        "It's no problem," Bess declared, giving a quick shake of her head.

        "We can't leave our house. We have to mourn for three days."

        "Buddhist rituals?" Bess raised an eyebrow, and the dark-haired girl nodded in agreement. "Alright. We'd like to ask you a few questions. Would that be okay?" It was her first time leading this kind of conversation, and she hoped she was doing it right. But she must have been because Lani nodded once again. "Okay, so, did your sister call you while she was out last night?"

        "No. I knew something was wrong. She always comes home by curfew," the girl replied.

        Bess held out the photo of O'Heron, so Lani could take a good look at it. "Does this man look familiar to you?"

        "No. Why do you ask?"

        "We believe he and your sister were killed by the same person. It helps us to rule out any connection between the victims, and it tells us that your sister was most likely attacked at random," JJ explained to the girl, then looked up as her mother placed a tray with porcelain cups and a teapot on the table.

        Both women thanked her for her kindness before turning their attention back to Lani. "I asked to speak to you because we need you to do something for us," she began, but then her voice was cut off by an abrupt wave of emotions, leaving her momentarily unable to say what needed to be said.

        "It's okay, take your time," Bess said reassuringly, feeling somewhat guilty for witnessing her in such a vulnerable state.

        The girl quickly collected her thoughts, then continued, "Grandma said she saw Bina's ghost last night. Her eyes were just big black holes," she mumbled, tears rolling down her cheeks now. "Bina was looking for her eyes. She says Bina's cursed. She can't rest. She's stuck for eternity, looking for her eyes. We want to cremate her. But we need all of her. Can you find her eyes for us?"

        Bess glanced at JJ for a moment, silently weighing their options. "We will try. But realistically, we may not be able to," she admitted, not wanting her to hold onto false hope. She understood how deeply entangled people become in religion and how it affected their lives. But reality had a way of crashing down twice as hard when one's belief was misplaced.

        "Then she will be cursed forever. She may never rest in peace," Lani whispered, dropping her gaze as the two women exchanged another glance. This had complicated things a bit.

        Meanwhile, Hotch and Reid met with Detective Phil Brantley at the Oklahoma City PD, where he briefed them on the information they had gathered so far. The murders from the previous day and the location where O'Heron's body was discovered were 22 miles apart, which was a surprising distance, as serial killers typically operated within a smaller radius.

        Garcia had also been digging up records of recently released mental health patients with a history of eye-related assaults, but came up empty for the Oklahoma City area. She did find a case from nine months ago involving similar behavior, but the perpetrator was now in prison, leaving them without any solid leads.

        As for O'Heron, he had a history of drunken behavior, but no known enemies or anyone harboring a grudge against him. He was last seen leaving a bar, where the bartender on duty confirmed that he left without incident. The dumpsite where his body was discovered was a remote farm road, so they figured that the UnSub must have known about it previously, leaving Garcia with the job of compiling a list of possible suspects who might have known about that isolated place.

        The parking garage where the two girls were found invoked several questions in Rossi and Morgan. Their UnSub was patient. He waited for the perfect victims, in the perfect spot, at just the right time before executing a blitz attack. It was all strategic, which sounded way too organized for a typical enucleator. Also, the lack of a cooling-off period between the murders only added to the challenge of getting ahead of this UnSub.

        At the end of the day, the ME made a discovery that pushed their case in a new direction. "The eyeball is held in the socket by six different muscles, fatty tissue, and the optic nerves," the woman explained as Bess, Emily, and Reid gathered around a metal table with one of the girls' bodies lying on top. "These are pictures of John O'Heron's eye sockets. See the optic nerves protruding?" She pointed it out with the end of her light.

        "Trauma. They were ripped out," Reid noted after one glance at the image.

        "Maybe with fingers." The medical examiner nodded, then gestured to the body on the table. "Now compare that to my body here." She pulled the sheet back from Bina's face, carefully opened one of the eyelids, and shone the light into the hole. "Smooth inside, no bruising, no sign of trauma. Optic nerves retracted into the muscle and they have a clean edge."

        "So, you're saying these were cut out?" Bess translated, raising an eyebrow questioningly. She had experienced much since starting her career with the CIA eighteen years ago, but going to the morgue wasn't among them. In her line of work, dead bodies disappeared. They couldn't let them end up on the ME's table for further examination. Or in those rare occasions when they had, there was nothing left to find.

        "With a sharp-edged tool. He managed to avoid cutting the sockets or the eyelids. This was precise work."

        "The kind of work only a doctor could do?" Emily questioned, pulling Bess' focus away from her thoughts.

        The ME paused for a second, then replied, "All I'm saying is that with both of these girls, it was a clean excision."

        "Okay, so he was crude with the first victim, surgical with the others," Emily concluded, turning toward Bess and Reid.

        The boy spoke up with a thoughtful expression, "The amount of effort he's going through to remove the eyes now, he wouldn't destroy them." His gaze drifted toward the glass bottles on the shelves, each filled with various human specimens.

        Bess followed his gaze, her voice stunned as she asked, "Are you saying he is keeping them?"

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        THE NEXT MORNING, THEY WERE informed that their UnSub attacked again during the night, this time leaving behind the body of a jogger woman at one of the known forest trails near the city. "It's secluded, but he chose a public spot again," Hotch noted as he, Bess, Morgan, and Emily headed to the body lying on a gurney beside one of the police cars.

        "He's not afraid of getting caught," Bess responded as she glanced around. The scent of pine trees filled the air, prompting her to take a deep breath. Since she could remember, she always liked being outdoors.

        Hotch looked around with knitted eyebrows. "This is far from the other crime scenes. What brought him here?"

        "Well, he only killed one person this time. It could have been more," Emily stated as Morgan stepped up to the dead woman and lifted the sheet covering her face. They stared down at the bloody holes that should have held her eyes, but they were missing, just like in the cases of the previous victims.

        Before anyone could have commented on the brutal sight, Detective Brantley approached them. "Hey, we found a car parked nearby. ID'ed her from a DMV photo. Tracy Copper, 32. Husband said she was an avid jogger."

        "Single knife wound to the neck, eyes are missing," Morgan muttered, while Emily put on gloves and checked out the woman's eye sockets. Bess noted that this didn't even make her wince.

        "Cut out as carefully as the last ones," she noted, stepping back.

        They set off along the trail where the woman had run the previous night, carefully retracing her steps while scanning for anything unusual. Morgan led the group with Emily by his side, leaving Hotch and Bess to follow closely behind. "He must have hidden in these trees, lying in wait again," Morgan declared, surveying the trees around them.

        Bess was relieved that he wasn't as repugnant today as he had been yesterday. Then again, it was a bit of an overstatement—he hadn't said a word to her, just like the rest of the team. They only answered when she asked a question, but none of them bothered to engage in small talk. Not that it mattered. She was used to keeping her distance. It had been a part of her life for a long time now.

        "So, he picked his location and then waited for a victim of opportunity," Emily concluded, her head moving from side to side as she scanned the forest on both sides of the trail.

        "He blitzes her because he lacks the social skills to charm." Morgan nodded.

        "That feels like the same pattern as the girls in the parking lot."

        "But he was quiet in the parking lot," Hotch joined Emily and Morgan's conversation. "If he hid in these trees, there's too much dry brush. He would have made noise."

        Morgan agreed with him, "No, it's too sloppy for him."

        "She was a serious jogger," Emily stated, "If she'd heard him, she might have been able to outrun him."

        "Unless he surprised her some other way," Bess muttered, poking a dark gray string between the fallen leaves with the nose of her high heels. It undoubtedly didn't belong to the natural forest surroundings.

        "What is that?" She heard Emily's question behind her back, prompting her to crouch down and grab the wire, pulling it out from under the bushes as she straightened up.

        "Tripwire."

        The three BAU agents stepped closer, examining the wire in her hand. "We need to check her ankles," Morgan declared, not offering a 'good job' or anything before heading back to Tracy's body, and they all followed him.

        Morgan pulled down the woman's sock to check her skin beneath, revealing a harsh cut on her ankle. "He used the tripwire to get her off her feet. She's stunned and she doesn't have time to run away," Hotch said as he tore his gaze from the body.

        "He laid a trap for her," Bess agreed with a nod, biting her lip.

        "All this, plus the way he bleeds her at the neck. It's the behavior of a game hunter," Morgan told them, letting out a deep breath as he stepped away from Tracy's body and headed back to their SUV.

        While the others were at the crime scene, JJ and Reid teamed up with Garcia to begin looking into local doctors with infractions, such as malpractice suits. Even after narrowing the list to eye specialists, it was still in the hundreds. Fortunately, this new lead about a possible connection to hunting might help them narrow it down even further.

        Bess barely stepped into the bullpen, JJ had already hurried up to her, saying, "Sinclair, I'm fielding calls left and right here."

        Bess watched the others spread out in the bullpen before she turned her attention to JJ. "What's happening?"

        "Case made national news. They're starting to call him the Eye Snatcher."

        Perfect, Bess groaned inwardly. She forgot how much she despised the media. All those people cared about was their fifteen minutes of fame. She had read that naming serial killers was pretty much unfortunate since it increased their hunger for more attention. "All right, um, you're gonna hold a small, controlled press conference. Answer their questions, but try to get rid of that name. I want the people to be aware, but let's not let this escalate into something which it isn't. You understand?"

        "Yeah. Yeah."

        When JJ didn't leave, Bess raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else?"

        "You're not answering Strauss' calls." The blonde woman grimaced, making Bess let out a deep sigh. Strauss tried calling her last night, but a relaxing bath seemed far more appealing than a chat with the section chief. Today, she'd tried again, but they were at the crime scene.

        "She's just trying to keep tabs. She can wait."

        All of a sudden, Hotch stepped beside her. "Sinclair, I think you should take the time to field the call." Bess stared at him, surveying his stoic expression. There was a hint of warning in his tone, yet she chose to dismiss that for now. She felt the weight of everyone's expectations, certain they were waiting for her to slip up. And she wasn't about to give Derek Morgan that satisfaction. Speaking with Strauss was just the icing on the cake.

        "Hotchner, I really don't have the time to chat with Strauss right now. The media is destroying our case. We have to go over Jareau's talking points and then set up a tip line. We're a profiler team without a working profile. I think these all take priority over dealing with Strauss." Not to mention, her little banter with the woman the other day would probably add an edge to their call now...

        "I understand all that. Let us help you set up strategy while you talk to her. We'll regroup with you before we proceed," Hotch offered, then, noticing the doubt on her face, added, "You're new, so you might not know how they handle things here. But believe me, we have enough battles, Sinclair. You don't want to fight her, too."

        Bess licked her lips as her gaze moved onto Rossi, who had also joined their group. For the first time, she felt that she might be out of her league here. The CIA director got her into the FBI, but his hand couldn't reach further. If she screwed up and they kicked her out without her accomplishing her mission first, she would end up in the slaughterhouse for damn sure. Her gaze moved back to Hotch as she stated, "Let's get the profile out first, and then I'll go talk to Strauss."

        She left the two men with JJ following behind, and Hotch and Rossi watched them walk away. Rossi's gaze flickered to Hotch, trying to read his expression. "Do you know anything about her?"

        Hotch diverted his gaze from Bess across the bullpen and instead focused on Rossi. "No. Just that the director assigned her."

        "Garcia could definitely dig up more information about her." Rossi flashed his eyebrows, looking at their new unit chief again. "Do you think that's her natural hair color, or does she dye it?

        "I don't know and I don't care, Dave," Hotch sighed, shaking his head. After a few seconds, he continued, "Morgan was right, you know. She doesn't seem to know a thing about our job. Besides finding that tripwire under the bushes, she gave nothing to the profile."

        "If that's the case, why did the director put her here instead of letting Morgan be the unit chief?" Rossi asked with knitted eyebrows. "Your warning her about Strauss was fair. Give her some time, Aaron. She might turn out great in the end. We couldn't do anything about it anyway."

        Hotch didn't say anything as he watched Bess once again. Rossi was right of course, she was already here and likely wouldn't leave anytime soon. "I think it's her natural hair color," he muttered, prompting the senior agent to raise an eyebrow. "What? You asked."

        Rossi's lips curled up as he eyed Hotch. "Fire-red. Makes her kinda hot, doesn't it?" Without waiting for a response, he walked away, leaving Hotch staring after him. He reminded himself to strangle the man with his bare hands if he ever tried to get into bed with her. The last thing they needed was an affair within the team.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        BESS CHOSE TO LET HOTCH, Rossi, and Morgan handle the profile, while she herself stepped aside to observe from the sidelines. "We believe that our UnSub may have known his first victim, yet the rest were random," Morgan started the briefing once the police personnel of the Oklahoma PD gathered in the bullpen. "Most enucleators have a mental disorder and are frenzied and sloppy when they attack. This one has more control."

        "He lays in wait to kill his victims, knows how to cut them so they bleed out. This indicates he might have a hunting background," Rossi explained.

        Hotch continued, "His large kill zone could be related to some type of travel pattern in his life, which indicates a comfort with these neighborhoods."

        "Why, all of a sudden, is he killing people every day?" Detective Brantley chimed in.

        "The escalation might be caused by a self-imposed timeline. He has to murder so many people, take this many eyes, to accomplish a task," Hotch answered.

        "So, he's crazy, but he's got a mission?"

        "Actually, yes. He's acting on a delusion that's fueling this murder spree."

        Morgan took away the lead of the briefing, "For example, a man named Herbert Mullin. He had a fear of a catastrophic earthquake hitting California. Now, he believed that by killing people and offering their blood as a sacrifice to the Earth, he could prevent an earthquake. He was a paranoid schizophrenic, and his delusion led him to kill 13 people."

        "Uh, what should we look for when we're on the streets?" Brantley asked his next question.

        "We believe he's a white male, 27 to 35. We believe he is driving a van or a pickup truck with a removable cab. Something utilitarian that can get bloody and wash out easily. He may also have applied for hunting licenses," Hotch listed.

        Rossi continued, "He has some sort of medical or surgical training but fell short of making a career out of it. He may have been in a halfway house or have been granted leave from a treatment facility. Maybe his family moved him away and now he's back."

        "Our UnSub kills at night, employs hunting tactics, and is patient. He will wait until he can be alone with his victims," Morgan finished presenting their profile.

        Just as his voice died down in the bullpen, Bess' phone started ringing with the same number flashing on the screen as it had done two times previously. She walked away from the loud crowd of people to search for a quieter place, then let out a sigh and answered the call, "Chief Strauss."

        "You're answering my calls now?" the woman scoffed, forming a grimace on Bess' lips.

        Before she could shoot back with a striking remark, she said, "Listen, I apologize for yesterday morning. I didn't mean to come out as being a hardass."

        Strauss didn't answer for so long that Bess thought the call disconnected. "You should certainly think before speaking, Agent Sinclair," she educated her, and Bess bit her tongue again to prevent herself from answering with something rude.

        "I know. I'm sorry. But I think you understand what it's like when people hold high expectations and question whether you can meet them. Especially as a woman in the boss' chair," Bess added, waiting to see whether her words breached the woman's defenses.

        After another few seconds of silence, Strauss sighed, "I know what you mean, Agent Sinclair. And just to make things clear, I don't want to supervise all your moves. That's why you're the unit chief. As you stated before, you can handle things on your own. I just want to make sure everything runs smoothly. That's all."

        Bess heard from Strauss' tone that she was telling the truth, so she let her shoulders slump a bit as she licked her lips and nodded. "Alright. So, what can I tell you?"

        "You can start with what the strategy is for tonight."

        "Uh, I have the team visiting precincts all over town, helping locals set up patrol. Media outlets are warning citizens to be hyper-vigilant," Bess recalled what they agreed on with JJ, Hotch, and Rossi beforehand.

        "What about suspects?" Strauss asked.

        "Nothing viable yet."

        "So, ultimately, you're no closer to catching him tonight."

        Bess sighed, "I guess we're not. But everyone's working hard, the profile is out there, so it's only a matter of time before we catch whoever is doing this. I don't want any more victims, just like you."

        "What about the team?" came the next question from Strauss, making Bess frown.

        "Uh, they are pretty good. From what I've seen so far, they work well together, focus on the task ahead, and are diligent to catch the UnSub as soon as possible."

        "Alright. We'll touch base tomorrow," Strauss ended the call, and Bess stared down at the phone in her hand. This turned out better than she expected. Strauss' last question made her wonder though. It felt almost as if the section chief waited for her to start complaining about the team. Maybe this was what Hotch was talking about. Either way, she had to look out for Strauss and stay off her radar. For the mission's and her own sake as well.

        And now, with nothing on her hands to do, she disappeared into one of the offices Detective Brantley let the team use and fired up the laptop on the desk. She opened the browser and started searching for anything she found on profiling, pretty soon stumbling upon Rossi's books. Reading their descriptions, they seemed the right way to start widening her knowledge, so she ordered a copy of all five of his books. They would be at her penthouse by the time she finished with this case.

        Whenever Bess was deep in her work, time seemed to pass quickly as she browsed the internet, hopping from one page to another while beginning her research on enucleation. She read about the procedure, the equipment, and possible causes, just like articles about myths and symbolic meanings—which she considered probable reasons for why their UnSub was keeping his victims' eyes. The only one that could make any sense was the Eye of Horus, which was an Egyptian Mythology. Apparently, those who lost an eye later wore a prosthetic as a symbol of endurance. However, she quickly abandoned this approach, as it had no relevance to their case.

        By morning, she had several empty coffee cups around her, alongside many cigarette butts in an ashtray. She was reading an article about taxidermy—a profession she discovered while searching for the keywords 'hunting' and 'eyes'—when the office door opened and Rossi walked in. "Thought I beat everyone here," he stated, drawing Bess' attention to himself.

        She gave him a flash of her eyebrows, leaning back in her seat as she brought the half-smoked cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. "Looks like you weren't fast enough," she responded, a smile showing him that she was only joking. "You smoke?"

        "Cigars mostly. But not that often." Rossi shrugged, noting the butts in the ashtray. She must have smoked half a pack over the night.

        "Well, I can give you a Dunhill if you're interested," Bess offered, holding up the silver cigarette case hiding one of the most luxurious cigarettes one could buy on US soil. Rossi's interest flickered as he stepped closer, so she opened the case, letting him pull one out. Settling into one of the chairs in front of the desk, he leaned forward, allowing her to light his cigarette, then took a slow drag, the smoke curling from his nostrils as he relaxed back into the chair.

        "Are we even allowed to smoke in here?" he asked with knitted eyebrows, remembering about police department protocols.

        "Probably not. But no one told me I can't. And I opened the window."

        Rossi paused for a second to think this over. She was the one offering him the cigarette; and if she had any conscience, she would take the blame, which was enough for him. He lifted the cigarette to his lips again as his gaze wandered onto the couch on his left. "You were here all night?" he questioned, noticing the blanket bunched up into a ball on the furniture.

        "Got caught up in reading," Bess admitted, tapping her cigarette above the ashtray.

        "About what?"

        A small smile formed on her lips as she took another drag, her gaze wandering onto the senior agent. "Lots of things. Enucleation, hunting, you—"

        Rossi started coughing, as he took a breath too sharp. "Me?"

        "Well, not you personally. Your books," Bess corrected herself, watching him with an amused expression as she crossed her legs under the table. "I ordered a copy from all five of them."

        For a moment, Rossi was at a loss for words. Of all the things she could have said, this was the last he'd expected. "I don't know if I should be flattered now or terrified about what you'll think," he said finally, making her chuckle. "But you could have just said you wanted to read them. I could give you free copies."

        "Sign them, and I'll be happy," Bess remarked, causing Rossi to smile, then took another drag from his cigarette. After a brief pause, she continued, "You know, you're the first person brave enough to have a conversation with me. I wonder why that is." She observed his expression, while Rossi looked at her in the same way.

        "I guess I know what it feels like to be the new person on the team. I was—"

        But before Bess could find out what Rossi was, the office door swung open, cutting off their conversation. Detective Brantley entered with Hotch close behind. Bess noticed that Rossi immediately put out his cigarette the moment they stepped in, but she took her time, taking one last drag before following suit. Hotch's gaze was colder than ice as it moved from one agent to the other, disbelief etched across his face at what he'd just walked in on. He can't be serious...

        "Good morning," Bess greeted them, but the look on the detective's face told her that it wasn't that great at all. He watched her put out her cigarette, his jaw tightening as he debated whether to scold her for smoking in his office or not.

        In the end, he chose not to. Instead, he said, "There was another attack during the night. A male and a female."

        Rossi's brows furrowed as he asked, "He's back to killing two?"

        "There's something different about this crime scene, though," Hotch said in a hard tone as he eyed the blanket on the couch. Did she sleep here? Yet, without revealing his thoughts, he turned and exited the room, with Brantley hot on his heels.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        WHILE ROSSI, JJ, AND REID stayed back at the PD, Bess, Hotch, Morgan, and Emily headed to this latest crime scene with Detective Brantley. The UnSub had chosen a local park as his hunting ground, cutting the wires in the electrical boxes to plunge the area into darkness, disorienting his victims. By forcing them off the trail to stalk them in the cover of night, he likely used some kind of night-vision aid—possibly a scope, the kind popular among hunters.

        While Emily discussed theories with Detective Brantley, Bess joined Morgan and Hotch to examine the two bodies. "Her carotid was severed, and her eyes are missing, just like the others," Morgan stated, hovering over the girl's body.

        "He didn't take the boy's eyes," Hotch remarked with Bess at his side, her attention fixated on the gruesome scar marring the male victim's left eye.

        "Well, why not? What's so different?" Morgan asked, rising to his feet and approaching them to see the boy for himself.

        "There's a laceration on his left eye."

        Bess spoke up, "He didn't touch the right eye at all, though."

        "He's got defensive wounds on his arms. He probably tried to fight back to protect the girl," Morgan guessed as he squatted down beside the body to examine it more properly. "During the fight, the UnSub could have cut his eye."

        "We said he might be collecting them. What if he needs a set? An injury like that ruins the collection," Hotch told them, prompting Bess to remember what she was reading about when Rossi interrupted her. And suddenly, everything made sense.

        "Taxidermy," she declared, shifting her gaze between the two perplexed men. "He's a taxidermist. He gathers pairs of perfect eyes to preserve and use in place of glass for the animals he stuffs. He has all the skills and supplies needed to preserve eyes and other body parts, as well as the anatomy knowledge to surgically remove the eyes like this." She pointed at the body at her feet as she recalled every word she had read in the morning.

        "We said he was a hunter," Morgan agreed with gritted teeth.

        "And what do hunters collect for trophies?" Bess asked rhetorically, a sense of satisfaction warming her chest as she watched the two men share a look.

        "I'll call Rossi." Hotch pulled out his cell from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and Morgan nodded along.

        "And I'll tell Garcia to start looking into local taxidermists."

        Both men walked away, leaving Bess alone by the body. She shook her head as she let out a bitter laugh. "You're welcome," she scoffed, then turned around and walked back to Emily and Detective Brantley.

        It didn't take Garcia long to find a lead. Cross-referencing John O'Heron with Oklahoma City taxidermy shops, she uncovered a $250 deposit for a workshop called Lloyd's Wild Game Shop, which was only a few miles from the farm road where his body had been dumped. As she dug deeper, Garcia found one recent record on Lloyd: a death certificate. He'd died of emphysema just four weeks ago. Though he had no employment history, he did have a 28-year-old son, Earl, who lived with him. Earl, on the other hand, had a petty crime record and three counts of animal cruelty, making him their prime suspect.

        Garcia sent the workshop's address to the SUV's GPS, and Bess joined the three BAU agents and Detective Brantley for the drive. On the road, Garcia filled them in on what she'd uncovered since her last call. Earl's mother had suffered from retinitis pigmentosa, a degenerative eye disease that would have led to blindness—had she not died in a car accident, leaving Earl solely in his father's care. With his father now gone, Earl had no one left to check on him.

        Not like his life was any easier beforehand. Expelled from school for attacking a classmate and attempting to gouge his eyes out, he had no employment record, had never filed taxes, and had no credit history beyond a driver's license linked to his father's 1990 dark-brown Chevy cargo van. Above all, creditors had seized the family home and placed a lien on the business just that week. In a short span, Earl had lost his father, his house, and now stood to lose the family business as well. The BAU team didn't have to look far to find his stressor. There were way too many.

        When they got to the shop, Bess covered the back with Hotch and Detective Brantley, while Emily and Morgan took the front. "There's no van here," Hotch muttered into his mic, informing Emily and Morgan on the other side of the building.

        "Copy," Morgan responded, while Bess pulled out her gun from its holster just in case she needed to use it. Her eyes covered the side of the building, but she couldn't have a glimpse of what was inside because the windows were too dirty. Just when they reached the back door, Morgan spoke up again, "I see blood. We're going in."

        Hotch kicked in the back door simultaneously with Emily breaking the glass pane on the front door to unlock it, and they invaded the place. There was no one inside, only the tens of stuffed animals Earl had been working on in the back of the store. Bess took note of everything inside; the different chemicals in bottles on the shelves, the working tools, the animal skins hanging from the ceiling, and the wooden figures. The blood pool in the front of the shop belonged to John O'Heron. He must have come here to see his animal, they got into an argument with Earl, resulting in his death.

        There was a bunk in the workshop too, magazines tossed onto a dirty blanket Earl used to cover himself while sleeping. "Well, if he's not here now, then he's out hunting again," Emily declared, tearing her gaze from the bed and looking around the room instead, then started lifting the covers from the animals on the tables.

        "This one doesn't have eyes," Hotch noted, staring down at the head of a deer.

        "Neither does this one."

        "This one does," Bess announced, turning around a lynx with radiating blue eyes. Matching O'Heron's. "This is what he's doing with the eyes."

        They found photos of Earl from his childhood, he'd been hunting since he was a kid. They figured that he probably spent his entire youth in the workshop with his father, allowing him to know only two things in his life: hunting and taxidermy. Which was fine as long as Daddy was supervising him. But now, with his gatekeeper gone, he was loose.

        "I think this is all of his customer information," Hotch stated as he walked up to the counter in the front of the shop and laid a large book on its worn-out top. "Sinclair, Morgan, Prentiss," he called out for them, drawing them out from the back.

        Detective Brantley spoke up, pointing at a row in the book, "Wait. This address, Junction Road? It's close to where the teenage girls got killed."

        "I think he's attacking all over town close to where his customers live," Hotch shared his theory with the others as they gathered around him.

        "Another customer on Dry Creek Road, close to where that jogger got killed in the park," the detective added, causing Bess to look at him.

        "And what about where the couple was murdered last night?"

        "Close to this address here," Brantley pointed at the book again.

        "Okay, so he's delivering these animals to his clients' homes and then sticking around the neighborhood to find victims," Emily concluded.

        "And there are two more addresses here."

        Bess bit her lip as she took a quick peek at them, then looked up, "All right, we should split up and go."

        "I'll get units to these locations," Detective Brantley replied, then turned to exit the shop after Hotch.

        The woman living on Bleaker Street claimed she hadn't seen Earl all day, narrowing down his final destination to the other address. By the time Bess and the team arrived at the brunette's house, both Hotch and Detective Brantley were missing. It turned out Earl had delivered a boar's head to the woman, collected the balance she owed, and then left. His van was later spotted parked by a bus stop near a construction site. When they reached the location, the UnSub was already in handcuffs and taken into custody without further incident.

        "What happened here?" Bess asked when she found Detective Brantley among the policemen securing the scene.

        "He took him down by himself," the man responded, and Bess raised an eyebrow at hearing this.

        "Hotchner?"

        "Yeah." The detective nodded, then walked away, and Bess turned around in the dark street, looking for the man. She didn't have to look for long, she found him standing by the ambulance with the young woman he saved sitting in the back.

        "Hotchner!" she called out for him, causing the man to turn around and walk up to her. "Brantley says you took him down solo." She surveyed his face, but he wasn't showing any emotions.

        "He wasn't far behind me," he responded finally.

        Bess raised an eyebrow. "You know you should have waited for backup, right?"

        "Would you have?"

        She left his question unanswered as she reached into her pocket and placed a cigarette between her lips, then flickered with the lighter, the smoke curling around her as she exhaled. She watched Hotch hover over her as he waited for her answer, forming a small smile on her lips. "Nice job, Hotchner," Bess said finally, turning around and walking back to their SUV. It was time to go home. Only, she had one more stop to make before she could do that.

        Lani Sukarto opened the door a few seconds after she pushed the doorbell. "Agent Sinclair! Did you find them?" the girl asked, hope sparkling in her eyes as she stared up at the redhead.

        "We did." Bess smiled. "They're at the coroner's office right now. They need to be processed for evidence first, but they can be sent to the funeral home of your choice tomorrow."

        "You have no idea what this means to us," Lani replied, then without warning, pulled Bess into a hug. She opened her mouth to say something but then realized she couldn't. Slowly, her arms folded around the girl, with a strange feeling moved into her chest. She couldn't quite make out what it was, she had never felt it before. But it was good, and she knew she wanted to feel it again.

        "I really hope your sister can rest in peace now," Bess said finally, letting go of Lani and sending her a warm smile before she turned around and walked away.

        The flight back home was fast—probably because all of them fell asleep on the jet—and before Bess realized it, she was standing in her new office down the same corridor that led to Strauss' office. She would have to form it to her own taste, but it would work, she was sure of that. She picked up the report she had to fill out about the case from the large dark walnut oak desk, then closed the door and headed for the elevator, ready to finally go home.

        She was elbow-deep in her black go bag as she headed to her car in the garage when she noticed the man standing beside her Mustang, observing it from every angle possible. "I'm sorry, that beauty is already taken," Bess said as she walked up to the sports car, causing Rossi to turn around and stare at her.

        He let out a surprised laugh, then shook his head. "I should have thought it could only be yours." He smiled, stepping back, so she could open the driver's door and throw in her bag.

        "What made you think that?" Bess raised an eyebrow as she leaned onto the roof of the car.

        "Oh, I don't know." Rossi ran his fingers through his hair, indicating he was talking about her hair color, earning a loud laugh from her.

        She licked her lips and nodded. "Good night, Rossi." Sliding into her car, she watched him make his way over to the black Cadillac parked in the next spot. She started her engine with a loud roar, just for him, then reversed smoothly and pulled up in front of his car, lowering her window. "Hey, Rossi!" she called out, catching his eye. "What was it you wanted to say this morning? About knowing what it's like to be the new member of the team?"

        He didn't respond as he watched her face, then shrugged. "They are good people. They will come around, eventually."

        Bess bit her lip, processing his words, then smiled and waved one last time before driving off. She glanced in the rearview mirror, catching him staring after her, and wondered if building a good connection with Rossi might encourage the others to open up to her as well. Meanwhile, Rossi dismissed the thought of asking Garcia to dig up information on Bess. He wanted to do that himself. Starting with the question: how on earth did she get her hands on a Boss 429 Mustang?

author's note

Wow, I still can't believe it's actually happening haha! The first chapters are always the hardest to write.🫣 So, what do you think guys? I'm so eager to know your first opinion on Bess. (And before anyone mentions it, no, it's not a Rossi story lol, but their relationship will have an important role in the book! Also, we all know how Rossi is with women.😏)

reminder

As a fellow writer, I pour an incredible amount of time and effort into each chapter, so please don't forget to vote and comment while you read! Your support means the world to me and gives me so much inspiration! Don't be just another ghost reader, please! <33