[h3]Episode 1...

[right]...The Silence Before The Sound[/right][/h3]

[b]Part I[/b]

>THE SAFEHOUSE
>OUTSIDE WHITE TREE
>BLACKRIVER, WEST VIRGINIA

They were still there. Everything. Even the dust, which shifted with the air pressure as Donnelley opened up the door to his private room. He assumed this place was under watch if Foster and Donnelley needed it again in the near future, faceless grey men and women swinging by and doing sweeps in the middle of the night to make sure it was still secure until they got the order to dismantle the safehouse after a few months’ time. But they hadn’t passed that threshold.

He wondered what they thought about the bottles in his room. Half-empty, near-empty, soon-to-be empty. Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, even R&R. Clothes were strewn about the room in piles, in corners, draped over the back of the chair at the little desk where his laptop was. He grabbed up a bottle and took a pull from it before he almost choked, hearing the front door open and shut. Nobody should have been here this early and Foster said he would be at the scene for a while yet, interviewing the cops. Donnelley took a breath, push checking his 40 caliber before placing his hand on the doorknob of his room.

Carefully and quiet, he turned the knob, easing the door open. A figure in the living room. Was he followed? He threw open the door but recognition didn’t grip him in time before he had his front sight leveled on a black-clad woman he knew. Her eyes told surprise and he quickly holstered his handgun, harsh sigh in his throat, “Fuck, Laine.” He gave her a once over, “You’re, uh, early.”

The barrel of the gun seemed to be a gaping maw, dark as death and Laine instinctively put her hands up, startled at the strange man behind it. Then he spoke. 

"Donnelley?" She stared for a moment, his red hair had been dyed black though his blue eyes  remained the same. Laine quirked her brow then dropped her hands, tossing her bag on the chair. "That's too bad, I was partial to the ginger look. I was down the road in Clarksburg as it happens. Drove up as soon as I got the bat signal. What's going on?"

“I thought I was going to be giving the whole team this speech, but, well…” Donnelley and Laine stood in the quiet and empty safehouse, “You know.”

“Body was found in the mountains. Hiker, local, I don’t know. We don’t know because there weren’t any supplies or gear found,” Donnelley set his jaw and sighed, looking away from her and recalling, “She was just there. It was just muscle and tendon, no skin. And I mean [i]none.[/i] Nowhere to be found. Parks Service pinged Foster and Foster pinged me, I pinged UMBRA.”

He crossed his arms and stepped over to the couch, plopping down in it. He ran his fingers through his hair, “Clarksburg?”

Her attention was immediate as she listened to the description of the victim. Laine furrowed her brow, "Any trauma other than the obvious skinning? Determined if it was posthumous or not? Cause of death?" 

She rattled off the questions while sitting down, crossing her legs and took out a notepad and pen, writing quickly. "Yes, the Criminal Justice Information center is there. I happen to be attending a lecture on DNA analysis, some new techniques have been approved for identification. Anyway, where is she? I'd like to get a look at her myself. Unless you're going to want to wait for the team."

She tapped her pen, the team with the exception of Agent Stewart were more specialized in combat than investigation. This was a murder, not a septic tank surprise.

Laine glanced at him, then tilted her head slightly. "This sounds like it's more down the FBI alley than UMBRA. It wouldn't be the first time a killer skinned his victim. Why are you interested?"

“I was working a case in the Middle East.” He left it at that, “Almost entire villages were found in the same condition. Foster said the same thing you did until that girl turned up skinned almost the exact same way.”

He frowned, looking out the window, “Fuck, Laine.” He shook his head, sat quiet for a few moments before he looked at her again, “If it is the same, then we’ve got serious concern that it could be something down UMBRA’s alley. And trust me. Nobody wants it to be.”

"If it was a whole [I] village [/I] I can see why you would be concerned, I mean...I know the terrorism is bad there but that seems excessive and it would take time, not like beheadings. What a mess."

Her thoughts turned to Jason and what he had confided in her. The possibility of ritual screamed from the description he had given her, as vague as it was. This too was something that might be ritual either in the act or with the skin of the victims. "Alright, so you saw both the villagers and this victim. Are they for certain the same? Did you take any pictures? Was anything posted online about these killings? Perhaps someone here copied it..."

She trailed off, jotting down a few notes. Every answer he gave her raised a dozen questions. "Did anyone examine those bodies? A doctor or someone with any kind of forensic training?"

“I only got the call a couple days ago. And this isn't the first time. Human bones were found in graves at the scene.” Donnelley got up and fished the keys from his pocket, “Let’s just go. Foster’s still there getting the details from the Law.”

He walked outside and slid into the driver’s seat of the Chrysler 300, the engine revving up as he turned it on and waited for Laine, once she was inside, they took off from the Safehouse.

 “Whoever it was, they had a lot of time on their hands, and it wasn’t the first time they skinned something… or someone.” He said, “Part of the job is making sure that we even have a stake in the case. But by the time we get a call, we can be sure we do. The Program doesn’t just stick its nose wherever.”

“I got confirmation, by the way. About Washington.” He looked at Laine with a sympathetic frown, “The case was taken over by another Working Group. I know for a fact that means shit to you, Laine, but poking around where you’re not needed when you’re off-duty?”

Donnelley shook his head, “You’re lucky if you get a warning.” He gave a pause, a sidelong glance at Laine, “And don’t tell me you haven’t been trying. I know your type. I was like that. Deputy Donnelley trying to save the world starting with Texas.”

Dr Laine picked up her bag, it held her notepad and her camera, but her boots were at home. She followed Donnelley out, eager to get out to the scene. At least this case seemed something she could handle, she knew what the process was when a body was found and it gave her comfort. 

She buckled up and leaned back into the seat as the Chrysler took off. If they had this case then there was something out of the ordinary, even more so than an average murder scene. Skinned. Ed Gein liked to skin women, to wear their skin and she recalled the photos of the scene. A carnal house of body parts and human skin clothing. Her stomach tightened at the thought that had not been a case for the Program. It had not been strange enough, just a serial killer. 

Her attention snapped back at the mention of Washington, he was referring to the Childress case. “But why...” 

Laine held her tongue when he shook his head, “You’re right, it does mean shit all. I would have at least liked to know who it is taking her, maybe collaborate...” 

Her words trailed off at the warning and she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, trying not to argue. 

After a few minutes of stubborn silence she said, “Fine, I get the message.”

Laine glanced towards him, at the large burn scar that was hard to ignore and the fine lines around his eyes that were focused on the road while he drove. There must have been a long hard journey between the two points yet here he was, still fighting.

“How did it go, trying to save the world?” Laine asked in a softer tone, watching the wooded hills pass in a green blur.

“Driver seat’s starting to feel like a couch all of a sudden, Doctor.” Donnelley commented in a rueful, low voice before he cracked a smirk. He liked Laine. They’d already had a moment back on the Baughman Case, true. He wondered if he wanted to talk. Wanted to let the contents of himself spill out into the open air.

“How do you think it went?” He said. Truth be told, Laine’s gaze was disarming, her face a picture of quiet sympathy that coaxed things out of him. Just the right amount of silence to her that made him want to fill them. Therapists had tried, but back then he never wanted to talk. Just keep his teeth together, furrow his brow, and get to work. “You know I was married? I told you, back at Clyde’s.”

“It was a happy marriage that started just after I got back home from the Army and just before I became a Deputy.” He shook his head, “Before long I was back in the Recruiter’s. I was a Ranger, then a Green Beret. If you know anything about those types, you know divorce is a very real possibility.”

“I…” He let go a sigh, “Afghanistan…” his eyes grew distant, remembering the wails and chants. The two JDAMs making thunderous nothing of the mountainside village. He thought about how scared he made his little girl at home and the straw that broke the camel’s back for Holly. The outburst at the school. He jerked the steering wheel to the left when he found they were starting to list off the road.

With violence in his movements he slammed the Chrysler into Park after he veered to the side of the road and rubbed at his eyes. “[i]Fuck.[/i]” Said more like he’d dropped something than slipped into a memory skulking at the back of his mind. Resigned, his forehead still in the palm of his hand and the other limp on the shifter, “Well, I’m still trying. Saving the world.”

“Or the pieces I can.” He sat there, collecting himself. Felt like a man quaking in a basement while a tornado passed overhead, eyes closed and trying to think on better times. Or at least different ones. He decided it was his turn as he regained himself, “Why FBI?”

Her eyes never left his  face as he began to speak, watching the nuances of the sudden vulnerability. It was not until the car jerked did she break her gaze and look out the window. They were now parked on the shoulder of the road, somewhere between safety and chaos. 

Laine said nothing as she watched his silent battle to control himself then she reached out, putting her hand gently on his that held the shifter. With little effort, she curled her fingers into his palm so he would let go and held his hand. She wanted to know more but waited letting him go at his own pace. 

She turned in her seat, resting her head against the cushion and looked at him when he asked why she had joined and Laine said simply,  “Redondo Beach.” 

He looked at her, curiosity tickling at his mind but he didn’t let it get to his tongue even if it seeped to his face. He looked at her, first sidelong and then he turned his head, uncaring that they were on the side of the road. Not caring if Foster was expecting him back soon or not. He wanted to tell her to go on, but he held himself back until she spoke. A little silence from him for her to fill.

Laine gazed thoughtfully at him then dropped her eyes for a moment before speaking, “You know, we all have that place or person that changes our trajectory, sends us on that unknown path that we cannot step back from. Afghanistan. Redondo Beach.”

She sighed, leaning back in her seat and met his eyes again. “I was fourteen when I found the path. I was at a party on the beach at night, snuck out like the little scamp I was.” 

Laine breathed a soft laugh but her eyes did not reflect the humor. “I found myself under a pier, I don’t even remember why. And she was there. Victim three of the Redondo Beach Butcher another Jane Doe. A girl not much older than myself, dead and destroyed.” 

Her jaw tightened as did her grip on his hand and she drew in a deep breath. “I wasn’t always so inclined to the dark but after that I was. I was obsessed.” 

Laine did not mention the dark laugh, the black with in the shadows that her stoned teenage brain might have made up but now, she was not sure again. She sat in silence, staring at his chest  then finally back up to his sad blue eyes and shrugged silently.

Donnelley and Laine sat for a good moment. Eyes on each others. He didn’t have to wonder why she was picked for the team, but finding a dead girl was enough for most people to break and run. Run as far away as they could from the possibility of finding another. Death and violence were contrary to most humans’ outlooks on a good, happy life.

But something in Laine’s past, in Donnelley’s, made them stay the course. Made them bear witness. Someone had to. Donnelley nodded, a small jerk of his head at first before he turned away from her, his chin dipping with each one as he shifted to drive and put them back on the road. “Okay.”

He didn’t know what more to say, but maybe there wasn’t anything else needed.

Straightening herself out, Laine quietly pulled out her phone, swiping through her music and glanced at him as she [url=https://youtu.be/5nLUd3KGCk0]tapped a selection[/url] while they continued towards their destination.

Donnelley snorted as he slowly came to recognize the song playing. He gave Laine a chuckle as they sped down the mountain road.

>THE CORDON...///

Donnelley slowed the car down as they neared the roadblock, still manned by the same two bored Deputies making small talk before they jumped to attention and signaled for Donnelley to halt. One of the Deputies approached the driver window while the other covered. Donnelley rolled his window down and didn’t even give the Deputy the time to speak, just flashed the badge plainly in front of Laine, “Special Agents Davidson and Laine, we’re with Forrest.”

The Deputy nodded up the road and Donnelley continued on until they were outside the police tape. “We’re here.”

He lowered his window as Foster was already upon them, waving them down, “They’re going to move the body in an hour or so. Obvious reasons.” Foster rose his brow and nodded to all the wilderness before he noticed Laine in the passenger seat. “You’re quick.”

“I’m glad you met Special Agent John Davidson, I’m Special Agent Spencer Forrest.” Foster’s wink was paired with a smirk as he held out his hand to shake, Donnelley leaning back and away from it while smiling apologetically.

Dr Laine adjusted her glasses peering at Foster, then held her hand out and gave him a handshake as she would a genuine colleague. “Dr. Heather Laine, BAU. As it happens I was down in Clarksburg for a lecture CODIS was giving. Lucky timing it seems.”

Laine glanced at Donnelley, a hint of a smile on her lips, “Isn’t that right, Agent Davidson?”  

“Uh huh…” Donnelley said as he opened his door and let Foster step back. A smirk was the sign that the humor of this all was not lost on him.

From her bag she took her phone to use its recording device and found a spare pair of latex gloves. Maybe she should have gone home first to get her kit together but there was a sense of urgency she felt even in the simple text from Donnelley that had put her on the road to the cabin. 

“Can I see her now?” she asked, then pulling on the blue gloves to protect from contamination.  

“She’s over here.” Foster began the walk towards the woman’s body while Donnelley and Laine followed. They came upon the body then, Foster looking expectantly at Laine for her to start her thing.

She lay on her back in the grass, arms down at her sides, eyeless sockets seeming to stare out at the sky above. No lips gave her an unsettling death’s head grin that Donnelley couldn’t help but stare at. Flies were starting to make cautious approach on her bare flesh and pale tendon as Foster shooed them away. If the reason for moving the body wasn’t obvious now… 

Dr Laine took a moment, observing the details of the scene, the position of the body, surrounding vegetation anything that might be disturbed. She was wearing heels that sunk slightly into the earth but she ignored it, taking careful steps towards the body. She swallowed hard, the smell was starting to waft on the morning breeze and the buzz of flies filled the silence. 

Laine took a few pictures of the scene, then crouched by the dead girl, her brow furrowing as she gently touched the exposed muscles through her latex gloves. She turned the right hand, looking for defensive wounds and fingernails, in case there might be DNA from the suspect underneath. 

Gently laying her hand down she would leave it for the forensic team to gather. She looked at what was left of her face, the empty holes left from her nose and eyes being gone. Her teeth looked decent, especially for this area of the country. She was either very young or perhaps from another place. Gingerly, Laine probed around looking for stab wounds or gunshots. 

Donnelley had not been exaggerating, her skin was completely gone, not even bits left on the phalanges or cuts from a skinning knife which would be different than stab marks. Whoever skinned her certainly was not an amateur and this made her gut clench. 

"Who is going to do the autopsy?" She asked, glancing back at the two men.

Foster shrugged, “No coroner out here and the closest medical professional is a backwoods doc. Haven’t met her yet.”

“We can follow the ambulance to her place, make sure we’re the only ones looking at the body.” Donnelley offered as he stepped up between Laine and Foster.

Laine frowned slightly, "We need someone with expertise, this skin job is too clean and cause of death is not very obvious. I have experience in collecting evidence and preliminary forensic exam but I'm not qualified to cut into her."

She bit her lower lip slightly in thought then stood up, looking at Donnelley. "I know someone, he's in Clarksburg right now. One of the best medical examiners in the country, he teaches at Quantico and has handled some high profile murders. I know this is top secret but if we need to go deeper to find out what happened to this girl then I could try and get him out here. Otherwise, I'll do what I can."

“Whatever we can do.” Donnelley nodded at Laine and looked at Foster, who already was sporting a deep frown. “You have to admit bringing on a Fed is better than exposing some backwoods Doctor to… [i]us.[/i] To this.”

Foster took a breath, taking his time. His frown let up before he nodded, “Sure.” He said, “I’ll tell Detective Roy, have her relay the new destination for… whoever it is you know.”

“He’s airtight, right?” Donnelley said to Laine, hushed, “Not a big damn mouth?”

Laine nodded, already taking out her phone. "I trust him, we've known each other for a long time."

Glancing up at Donnelley as she scrolled through the contacts, "I wouldn't offer if I thought he would do anything stupid." 

Laine hoped that were true but could not imagine he would talk about this with his kindergarten teacher fiance. The phone rang three times and finally she heard Bakker's whispered, "Heather? Where'd you go? Hold on..."

Shuffling and steps then his voice again, no longer hushed. "Everything alright?" 

"Alex," she said, looking up at the green canopy of ash and oak trees. "I need a big favor. Can you skip out on the rest of the lecture? I need you up here."

A sigh then he said, "Look, I can't meet up with you like this I'm engaged."

Laine rolled her eyes then turned her back to Donnelley, "Goddamnit, don't be so full of yourself I need your expertise. You're going to want to see this, I wouldn't want anyone else doing this autopsy."

"Autopsy? Why...what's going on, you're being very evasive."

"Just come up to Whitetree, in Blackriver County," she turned back around, her cheeks slightly flushed. "And Alex, don't breathe a word. I'll tell you more once you're here."

"Implying I will come," he replied then before she could say anything he added, "Shit, alright, I'll be there. Do I need anything?"

"We're taking her to a local doctor's office, start driving and I'll text you the exact address," Laine replied. "And Alex... thanks. I owe you one."

Bakker breathed deeply, then said, "I'll see what I can do about borrowing gear just in case. Sample kits, etc. I'll be up as soon as I can."

She disconnected the call, then went back to the men, addressing Donnelley. "He's coming, should be here in a couple hours."

Donnelley put his hands on his hips, nodding, “Good.”

“Oh, well there they are.” Foster pointed past Laine and Donnelley, the two looking where his finger landed.

Sure enough, the transportation for the woman’s body rolled up to the edge of the cordon. Blackriver was a backwater, and as such had a contract with the local funeral home, who’d sent a white and windowless van to pick the body up. CSI were already busy hefting the girl’s body into a body bag, zipping it up when they were done. Donnelley watched them place the bodybag onto a stretcher and bring it to the van, stowing it away in the back.

“You folks know where you’re going?” Donnelley raised his voice. One nodded, but that meant nothing to Donnelley. He gave another hard look, just enough.

“Yeah, Doc Levy?” The other said, catching Donnelley’s eye. Donnelley nodded.

The more time he spent here, the more he started feeling like Iraq. A stranger in a land that wasn’t his own.

Laine watched the CSI team like a hawk, pointing out needlessly as they began to get the body ready for removal from the scene, "Bag her hands first."

One gave her a look of masked tolerance that most local authorities used on the feds when they usurped their crime scenes. Laine glanced over at Donnelley when he addressed them and wondered briefly how the [I] Program [/I] kept people like this from talking about the strange unsettling things they saw. 

She reached into her blazer's pocket and fished a black pack of Djarums, removing a clove cigarette. Before lighting up, Laine held the pack out to Donnelley in a gesture to see if he wanted one. "You said there were bones found as well?"

Donnelley nodded, plucking a djarum cigarette from the pack and tucking it between his lips, raising his eyebrows and nodding for her to follow him in the direction of the small mass graves filled with piled skeletons. He gestured to the hole in the ground. Foster came up beside them, “They took some samples, dating them or something.”

Foster’s head snapped towards the sound of an engine turning over, “Van’s leaving.” He said, “You should follow. Make sure they get to the right place. I don’t trust anybody local.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Donnelley muttered as a passing Deputy seemed to eye the three of them before turning back and going on his way. Donnelley held his gaze on the man even after he was heading away from them. This entire place left a bad taste in his mouth. Time for a smoke, then. He pointed to the cigarette dangling from his lip, “I’m gonna get out of this fucking cordon.”

Laine followed, looking past Foster at the bones in the graves. Moving closer, she took a few pictures and crouched at the edge of the hole. The bones seemed to be a variety of condition of decay but all of them looked intact. A skull stared up at her and she took a picture, before leaning in and picking it up gently. 

She studied it, thought it had been awhile since her forensic anatomy training she could tell it was likely female by the comparatively gracile jaw and brow. Inside the lower jaw she could see the third molars still half buried in the bone. Wisdom teeth yet to erupt meant she was young but not a child, perhaps still in her teens or college age. Laine leaned back in to place it where she had found it. 

She stood and tugged down her skirt, smoothing it back in place and said to Foster, “They’ll need to go down to CJIS for identification, at least they should. But I’m sure you know that, [i] Special Agent Forrester.[/i]

She gave him a sly tight smile then turned  to follow Donnelley to the car, treading the exposed roots of trees gingerly in her heels. Laine kicked a clod of mud clinging from one as she lit her cigarette and took a drag, the cloves crackling in the embers. “Hell of a thing. I didn’t see any wounds indicating she fought, but it’s hard to tell...well without the skin. I just hope this was posthumous.” 

Watching the deputies load the body into the van, Laine said, “They don’t like it when we step on their toes but  I’ve seen too many scenes botched by good intentions.” 

Joining Donnelley in the Chrysler, she buckled up and then leaned her elbow on the open window, letting the wind take the smoke.

Donnelley was busy sucking in the sweet smoke of the clove cigarette and let it out as he spoke, turning the car’s engine over, “Lotta shit botched by good intentions, trust me.”

>DOC LEVY’S OFFICE
>BLACKRIVER, WEST VIRGINIA...///

It was a half hour’s drive from the police cordon around the crime scene. Thirty or so minutes took the funeral home van and the two Program Agents in their Chrysler to the turnoff on the road into White Tree. It was marked by a sign on the side of the road, ‘Doctor Anne Levy, Serving Blackriver Since 1991!’

The sign itself was old and decrepit, Donnelley judging it to be a good number of years between the last time it was painted and now. Faded hues despite the happy exclamation. 

“I guess this is it.” Donnelley turned the wheel as he watched the van disappear down the turnoff. Soon enough they were parked, Donnelley watching intently as the Deputies and the funeral home employees retrieved the girl’s body.

When they stopped what they were doing and looked towards the tinted windows of the Chrysler expectantly, Donnelley nodded to Laine. He pushed open his door and stepped out, hands on his hips- and close to his handgun. “Figure once we get inside y’all can get back to whatever it was you were doing.” His smile was anything but appreciative, lips pulled right in a mirthless thing, “‘Preciate it.”

The Deputies nodded and Donnelley stepped past them, rapping his knuckles on the door. Almost quick enough to make Donnelley flinch, the front door opened up, struggling against the chain that kept it only just cracked, “What?”

A hard-eyed woman with gray hair tied back into a frizzy bun, thick-lensed glasses perched midway up her nose from which her most unwelcoming stare burned over. Her thin lips cracked a smile, “Oh.” She looked around at the assortment of Deputies and others standing at her door, “‘Scuse me, then. What’s all this about?”

Donnelley tried to bring out his southern drawl a bit more than usual, thinking it would warm the country doctor to him, “I’m Special Agent John Davidson with the Bureau. We’re going to have to store this here body-“

“Yes, sure, come in.” The door shut again and fidgeting with the lock was heard from behind the door before it creaked open again, “Let’s go, come on.”

Donnelley waved the Deputies through the door with the girl’s body. Once they’d placed her on the metal table they did as they’d agreed to, filing out with not much ceremony. That suited Donnelley fine. The less eyes around when Laine’s man arrived and opened the girl up, the better. Everything faded away into silence, the three people in the room standing and glancing at each other. “So…” Doc Levy frowned.

Dr Laine hung back, watching Donnelley control the situation. She was used to sour faced local cops but when the doctor peered through the chained door, her attention perked up. Not the most welcoming entrance to a doctor’s office and the sense of urgency and suspicion from the older woman caught Laine by surprise. She followed the men into the office and when the deputies left, she stepped forward. 

“Dr Heather Laine, FBI,” she introduced herself, speaking in a soft but firm voice, “Thank you for letting us bring her here and use your office so we can take care of her. Our medical examiner will be joining us within the next hour or so until then I will handle proceedings and preparation if you don’t mind.” 

She scanned the room, a modest medical exam office in the backwater town. It looked clean and organized but certainly not equipped for surgery or an autopsy. Her small camera would have to do and a flashlight since there was no overhead light. 

“Dr Levy,” she said, “I apologize if we caught you off hours.” 

“Mm.” Doc Levy grunted, folding her arms, “You can use whatever you want, don’t bother me. Just don’t stay too long, there’s sick people here in Blackriver and I’m the only Doctor. I deal with [i]live[/i] people, Special [i]Fucking[/i] Agents Himmler and Goebbels.”

She spun on a heel and disappeared behind a door that led… somewhere. On the closed door, Donnelley could not help but notice a poster of Che Guevara on the door. He chuckled to himself, “Jesus Fuck. They have those out here?” He sniffed at the air, marijuana. “Doc likes it skunky.”

He shook his head, turning back to Laine and leaning on a table along the far wall. “So,” he clucked his tongue, “This Doctor of yours. How long’s he here for? Killing like this really implies it’s not the last.”

Laine raised her brow at the slander, then glanced at Donnelley, “At least it wasn’t Mengle.”

“I don’t mind the weed, but if she starts diagnosing with crystals and chakras I’m out,” Laine continued as she made a survey of the office. She moved a tray on wheels, it locked up but she kicked the brake and it spun around freely. At his question, she shrugged, “I don’t know, the seminar lasts  two days, we’re both supposed to be there but this is more important. Of course explaining that to our boss, that’s another story. Dr Bakker will want to figure this out, he’s been like that as long as I’ve known him. If there are more killings following this MO, I’m pretty sure he would be interested.” 

Laine held back her doubt, now that he was engaged and his head turned to living a normal life he might not want to dive into this nightmare. She laid out gloves and swabs, mostly to keep her hands busy as she spoke. She glanced up at Donnelley, “You’re right though, this was a practiced hand and that means there are more out there like her, the bones speak of that. I would not be surprised if they were a certain age and sex type, with similiar deaths. The suspect might be a local, someone familiar with the area, comfortable enough to blend in. These type of people would notice a stranger amongst them.”

Removing her blazer she pushed up the sleeves of her lightweight sweater, resting her rump against the counter, “Did you know of any missing persons in the area? The victim might not be local but usually a killer starts local.”

Donnelley shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t been around these parts since the Agency sent me to Virginia.” He sighed, “I’m sure Foster can pick up on the local news while he’s out and about. I think this is the first time in years he’s worked a case for himself and not just getting his Working Group to do it for him.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if people went missing around these parts. Hikers, hunters.” Donnelley crossed his arms and shook his head, looking off to the side, “I’m really fucking hoping this is just open and shut. Give it to regular FBI and I can…”

Go back to what? He frowned. His empty, cold house in Seattle? Iraq, and keep chasing Anzor with Smitty and Kingsley? His entire life was work, and whatever scraps of it there weren’t was just meaningless shit. Drugs, alcohol, loose women. “I don’t know. Maybe I need a break.” He snorted, “I heard Fiji is nice.”

His smile dropped as he looked back at Laine, “We can either wait for the others to get here first and we just sit on our hands in the Safehouse or canvas the town. Interview the Ranger that found the girl, talk with Detective Roy.” Donnelley shook his head and sucked at his teeth, “I’m sure Roy or the Sheriff can get us some case files on missing persons, recent violent crimes in the area.”

Laine watched him, crossing her arms under her chest and then nodded, “You probably need a break, but somehow I think you might have to be forced into a vacation. But Fiji is nice, I hear. Come on, let’s go talk to people, to the detective and ranger. It’s the best way to start piecing this puzzle together, start with the edges. Besides, Bakker won’t be here for another hour or two. He’s meticulous in getting prepared, he won’t just jump in his car and tear ass.” 

She gave a self deprecating smile, dipping her head slightly so her hair fell forward against her cheek. Grabbing her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and left her jacket still hanging on the chair. “Will it be alright to leave her here?”

Donnelley looked at the bodybag, thinking for a moment. He shrugged, taking his pack of cigarettes out of his collared shirt’s breast pocket, “Doc doesn’t seem interested in anything about this past letting the body sit here.” He nodded, placing a cigarette between his lips, “Let’s get to it, Doctor.”

After leaving the office, Laine asked, “Who do you want first? It might be easier to get Detective  Roy, the ranger might be out in the woods and I’m not dressed for a hike.”

“Yeah,” Donnelley unlocked the car with the key fob, opening the door and then sliding into the driver seat, “I’m not really feeling one, anyways. Guess that leaves Detective Roy.”

As they drove, Laine took a few subtle glances at his hair then bit her lip to fight back a grin. “I don’t know if you can go out tonight,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Your red roots are showing.”

She laughed at her own joke, then ran a hand over her hair, the straight dark strands falling back into place of the blunt cut. “What made you do that?” 

He snorted out a chuckle and ran his fingers through the top of his hair, “You know many gingers in the Mid East?” He smiled, “I at least have to try to blend in, make me look like anybody but Donnelley. It wasn’t the worst thing I had to do to get into a country, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Point taken. It works, I almost didn’t recognize you. Granted, I was staring down your gun,” she said. “I should have knocked.” 

Her gaze shifted to the road to White Tree, the sagging buildings seemed to be bearing the weight of an uncaring world, the soot from the mines long ago staining the roof tiles and tree trunks black. She wondered how he disguised the burn scar that ran from his cheek down his neck, that surely was identifiable but Laine did not ask. Instead she watched a couple of kids walking with their skateboards along the side of the road rather than riding them. She murmured under her breath,  “Skate or die, motherfuckers.” 


Donnelley cracked a grin at Laine’s words. Those words and those kids so out of place were a callback to a Joseph Donnelley who hadn’t been around since long, long ago now.

The Sheriff’s office wasn’t anything to write home about. With Blackriver being the least populous county in West Virginia with only two towns of struggling Americans, it seemed somebody had laughed in the face of whoever proposed an actual police force for the county. The paint, like the paint on all the other buildings of White Tree, was peeling after years of poverty-stricken apathy. Three Ford Crown Victorias sat in the parking lot, their drivers hooting and hollering over a joke next to them, Blackriver Sheriff’s Department emblazoned on the side.

They all seemed to turn their heads in unison at the sound of crunching gravel underneath the Chrysler’s tires. Donnelley shot a glance their way and shook his head, taking up a space on the other side of the parking lot from the gaggle of Deputies. As he and Laine stepped out of the car, Donnelley waved to the staring Sheriff Deputies. He received nothing but weary eyes in return that averted themselves back to whatever bullshitting they were doing before Laine and Donnelley made their existence known to the town of White Tree. The lobby was small, dark brown carpet and beige walls, a front desk being manned by a young woman in a Sheriff Deputy uniform. “Can I help y’all?”

“Yes, we’re Special Agent John Davidson and Doctor Laine with the Bureau. Would it be possible to see the Sheriff?” Donnelley asked.

“I’m ‘fraid not, sir. Sheriff MacOnie’s on vacation.” The female Deputy offered her best attempt at looking sympathetic to their inconvenience.

Donnelley’s brow furrowed, shooting a glance at Laine before looking back at the Deputy, “Do you think we could schedule something? When’s he getting back?”

The Deputy just shrugged, “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not…” Donnelley pinched the bridge of his nose before he returned his hand to his pocket, “Well, do you think we could get access to some of your case files? You keep case files, right?”

The last bit he might have spat with some vitriol and he worked to keep his tongue in check before he made this visit a fiasco instead of an inconvenience. The Deputy frowned at him a moment, “You’ll have to submit a request to the Sheriff.”

“The Sheriff that’s on vacation for an indeterminate period? Who takes over for him when he’s [i]on vacation[/i] for [i]indeterminate periods?[/i]” Donnelley’s patience was wearing thin with this backwater Sheriff’s Department. Even his office back in bumfuck West Texas wasn’t this disorganized.

“Well…” Her excuses had hit a brick wall right then. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’re either going to have to submit a request for the Sheriff or leave immediately.”

Donnelley’s jaw set.

He took in a breath and let it blow out his nose as he shook his head. “Get him on the damn phone, this is part of an ongoing investigation and I will do everything I can to make sure you’re thrown out of that uniform straight on your ass.”

“Sir, I do not even know you and frankly, you’re a bit belligerent.” The Deputy stood, “There’s some Deputies outside who’d love something to do.”

Donnelley cracked a dark grin, about to open his mouth until he felt Laine step up beside him.

She put a hand on Donnelley’s shoulder and gave the deputy a sympathetic look, then showed her badge. “I apologize for my colleague, Deputy...” 

Laine glanced down at her name tag, “Evans. It’s been a day, and it’s hardly started. I am the Supervising Special Agent, if I need to submit a request I will but I’m afraid we don’t have much time. The Behavioral Analysis Unit sent me to work on identifying a suspect involved in a recent killing not far from here. Time is of the essence and I hope your sheriff wouldn’t mind us reading through some of your case files for information about both unidentified suspect and victim. We’re really in a bind without much to go on.” 

Without breaking her gaze on Laine and Donnelley, the Deputy reached over behind the desk. Donnelley’s first instinct was to prime himself to draw his handgun. The Deputy threw a business card fluttering to the ground, “Take it up with the Sheriff and fuck off out of here.”

All things considered, Donnelley breathed a bit easier. He chided himself for how he acted, swearing under his breath as he bent down and picked up the card. The number for Sheriff MacOnie. It was as much a win he and Laine were going to get. He couldn’t meet eyes with Laine, knowing he almost single handedly fucked them because of his mouth. He just walked past her and back to the Chrysler. They sat in the parking lot for a few seconds before Donnelley offered the card over, “I’m such an asshole.” He grumbled, “I’m sorry. That could’ve gone better. Should have.”

Laine pressed her lips together but managed to speak in a civil tone, “Have a nice day, Deputy Evans.” 

Dr Laine turned and walked quickly, her high heels making staccato clicks in rapid succession as she went out the door. She breathed out, putting her hands on her hips, giving Donnelley side eye as he got to the car. She followed, not berating him but taking the card to hold onto it. “Well, we all make mistakes. Better pissing off a girl who probably should be working at the Dairy Queen than the sheriff himself.” 

Laine smiled a bit, then laughed, as her irritation eased. “You were an asshole though. I need to bring you along when I speak with the manager at Wegmans when they don’t stock my coffee brand. Don’t worry about it, we’ll get in those files. Let’s go find the detective.” 

Donnelley managed a grin as he rubbed at his face, letting go a small chuckle that Laine wasn’t being a hardass, “Fuck me,” he shook his head, “Well, if the salary for that’s alright I might have some options for the future.”

He shifted into drive, taking one last scorching glance at the Sheriff’s Office in the rear view before they were off down the road.