>QUANTICO, VA
>BAU 4 OFFICE
>08.JUL.2019
>0815...///

Dr Laine entered the office, it felt comfortable and familiar as even more so than her apartment. Which made sense in her mind as she spent more time in the office or on the road assisting in cases than she did sleeping in her own bed. She was dressed in heels and a knee length fitted skirt, all black except her gray silk blouse under her blazer. 

Her desk was dusty, the cleaning crew would not touch the desks of agents, so as she settled in, Laine began her routine of wiping it down. Her dual monitors sat dark, unused for what felt like a month but was actually about a week during her absence. 

"Welcome back, enjoy your vacation?" 

Laine glanced up, another analyst Agent Lewis who sat at the desk across from her had arrived with coffee from the break room. He was average height and developing a pudgy spare tire, an unremarkable middle aged face except for keen dark eyes beneath a furrowed brow. 

"Oh, yeah, very restful," she remarked, tossing the antibacterial wipe away. "How's the wife and kids?"

"You know, I still keep them around, hanging like a noose around my neck," Lewis said lightly with a straight face. "One day they'll finish me off."

Laine huffed a laugh as she turned on her computer, no one doted on his family more than Special Agent Russell Lewis. His desk was full of pictures of his lovely wife and four children, various framed Little League and Scouts portraits.

"Not a day too soon," Laine quipped dryly, raising her eyebrows slightly at his chuckle. They had their routine, a comfortable gallows humor that had developed over the years as Lewis had been a mentor when she first joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit. "What are you working on?"

"Hmm, a stroke," Lewis muttered then opened a file, "We got a request from Phoenix police, they had a pretty nasty murder of a customs agent. They're considering it could be Cartel related considering the work she was in but it also looks like it could be the work of a lust killer. Raped, cut open and decapitated. Her heart cut out, maybe a very upset ex boyfriend?"

Laine shook her head, "Brutal. Not unlike the cartels to cut heads off, anything else?"

"Nothing more other than very distinct lack of evidence," he replied, sliding the file over to Laine. "No other blood, no semen, not even a goddamn hair and you wanna know why?"

Laine winced inwardly at the photos but her face remained unchanged. "Good planning. Definitely not an uncontrolled act despite the brutality. He was very much in control."

Agent Lewis nodded slowly, "Handcuffs, a pistol found without ammo...you don't think a customs officer with no children in the house would bother having an unloaded weapon by her bedside, do you?"

"Nope."

"He cleaned up after, crime scene was spotless other than what he wanted us to see," he sighed. “Professional, practiced.” 

"Good luck," Laine offered with a shake of her head. Her own case for the program was stalling for lack of victimology, the results of Bethany Miller’s murder hidden by the Blackriver Sheriff and little else but bones that she was still waiting on the results of from CJIS.  

"Waiting to hear back from the border patrol office in Nogales where she was assigned, they've been slow," he added, then sat back in his chair to go back to work. “By the way, I heard Dr Bakker put in his resignation.”

Lewis’ dark eyes flickered at her with interest at her reaction but Laine only glanced over and nodded. 

“It’s too bad,” he continued, “The Academy probably won’t replace him I heard, cutting back on the pathology course, letting that fall into general forensics. A shame.” 

Her gaze shifted to the other agent as she peered around her monitor, “It is a shame. Is this why your wife is probably slowly poisoning you?”

“Just tell me to shut up, like she does,” Lewis grinned then went back once again to work. “By the way, she’s got an open invitation for dinner once you got some time.” 

“As long as she makes her chili, I’m down,” she replied, “Tell her thank you.” 

“Will do.”

Laine opened her email, noticing one dated earlier in the morning from Supervising Special Agent Barnes. A request for a meeting after lunch. She sighed, most likely he had not been happy with her disappearing from the CJIS conference despite her quick email sent from the road to inform him she had been called away. She clicked the ‘will attend’ meeting button then closed it.

Before getting into work emails, she opened the icon on her desktop labeled “VICAP” and logged into the system. It was a comprehensive database compiled over the last thirty years of victims, missing persons, murderer’s signature and other details that might link cases. While under utilized and poorly maintained for most of its existence, the FBI finally was given a grant to revamp and build on the potential to make it more user friendly for local PDs. 

Glancing over her shoulder, Laine slid her phone out and opened it, bring up a list of terms she copied into the search engine. “Skinning, amputation of tongue, removal of eyes, removal of larynx, missing children Sinaloa cartel sex traffiking, sexual trauma foreign obeject, pelvic damage with foreign object, black stone,  Russian sex traffiking missing children, Blackriver, West Viriginia...” The list was long for all possible hits and it was going to bring a lot of stuff up that might not be related at all but Laine had little other options. 

Then it was a wait while the program sorted along its parameters and it could take awhile. Laine tucked her phone away and went back to her emails but the Blackriver case weighed on her. How she would love to run it by Lewis or another analyst, but it was something she could not talk about, unless it was another UMBRA member. Laine reached for her phone again and scrolled through her contacts until she found Pari. 

***
Once she was off the phone with her teammate, Laine felt a little better. Getting the ideas running through her mind verbalized helped her see them more clearly. And Pari mentioned something that Laine had considered, the killer being a pathetic loser. That was often true about serial killers, they took out their perceived inferiority on their victims in various ways, ultimately the control over life or death finally giving the murderer a sense of power and success he or she lacked.

Dr Laine's partially written profile included the man was likely in his thirties or older considering the skill and patience it would have taken to kill and skin Maria Vasquez. He hated women, feared their rejection and mockery so he found ultimate control over his victim by drugging them into paralysis and removing their ability to speak rendering them truly helpless. He used a foreign object to penetrate vaginally though if he himself had raped them before it was unknown as the evidence wasn't there. But what was certain was the amount of force and trauma caused to Maria's body was horrific. After looking at the x-rays, Laine knew her pelvis had been fractured. In fact so had the ulna bone of her forearm, an elbow partially dislocated. Maria had struggled, she had tried to get away before being subdued. 

Laine blinked, she had been lost in thought standing outside the empty conference room still holding her phone. She needed more information, the victimology would provide her clues to the man who did this. Her next call she made as she walked back to her desk, her sandwich she had made at home waiting for her to finish. Lewis was gone and most people in the office had left for lunch so she looked up the directory. 

"Forensics lab, this is Dr Pigeon," the chipper voice came over the phone. 

"Hey, it's Dr Heather Laine, BAU," Laine replied,  the young forensic anthropologist, Dr Erin Pigeon, an intelligent, detail fanatic of a woman that she had worked with on previous cases. 

"Oh, howdy Laine," the woman's voice became cheerful, the faint Oklahoma drawl curling around her words. "Calling about that boneyard the State Police sent us?"

"Yeah, I hadn't heard back and I was wondering about the progress."

A clicked of a tongue and sigh could be heard before Pigeon answered, "We're backed up, you know how it is. But I took a precursory look as we organized them. I can tell you this, they're all female and young but not children and some have injuries.”

"I hate to be pushy but this is important to a recent murder, a very bad one and I'm struggling with the victimology for the profile. I need those skeletons evaluated as quickly as possible," Laine said, glancing over her shoulder but she was alone in the hall. 

"Is Barnes putting in a rush order?" 

"No, look, it's not something..." Laine sighed and tried to think of a way to put it. "It's a case I'm working on the side, Barnes isn't in on the details. Please, Erin, I'll owe you big if you can get me that forensics report as soon as possible."

She could practically hear the other woman's interest piqued. Dr Pigeon was a good anthropologist who loved a mystery.

"Oh, on the sly? Curiouser and curiouser... alright, give me a couple of days and I'll have my report and you owe me," Pigeon said, the interest in her voice clear. "I don't know what yet but it'll include some answers."

Laine rubbed the back of her neck and agreed, "I will do my best."

"Alright, talk to you later."

The line went silent and Laine checked the time, her meeting was in ten minutes, no time to finish her sandwich. She took a bite and washed it down with half a bottle of water before heading over to her supervisor’s office. 

Supervising Special Agent James Barnes looked up through steel rimmed glasses as Laine entered his office. He was a balding, broad shouldered man who wore neatly tailored dark suits, a genuine air of G-man about him. He smiled at her but Laine could see the tension, how his eyes did not reflect his facial expression. 
“Heather, take a seat,” he said, “Nice to see you back, how was the...well, whatever it was that you got up to.”

“Sorry about the conference,” Laine said, feeling a slight irritation at his passive aggressive approach. “I got a call. You know, it’s classified.” 

“Of course, classified,” Barnes nodded deeply, then peered at her. “Do you find it odd that an agent would have a classified case kept even from her direct supervisor?”

“There’s a lot of things I don’t find odd anymore,” Laine replied, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. “Your clearance is not something that is my business, sir. I can’t speak about it, you know that.”

Barnes grinned sardonically, then leaned on his desk, “Just so. I can’t have my agent running off when I need her here. Or where I need to send her.”

Laine just looked at him, waiting for whatever shoe he was going to drop. When she did not respond, Barnes sat back, “I’ve given your Academy course to Agent Ngyuen, she’ll be teaching this fall. I can’t have an instructor absent half the time.” 

“I understand,” Laine said, though disappointed it was only logical an instructor would need to be present, “She’s a good choice.”

“I’m glad you approve, Doctor,” Barnes said, then looked her over, “We had a request for assistance in New Mexico, they had a few bodies pop up in the desert and local cops are having trouble piecing it together. Scattered over several counties and city jurisdictions so it’s a tangle of information being haphazardly shared.” 

He pushed a file at her, “I need you to go out there. You leave next Monday and it could be a week or so, maybe more so pack accordingly. 

Laine opened the file and was greeted with a crime scene photo of a murdered young man and then glanced up, “I won’t be able to do this. I am expected back in West Virginia in two weeks.”

“Is that so?” Barnes said, then reached for the file, “Well, by all means, we’ll try to adjust murders around your new schedule. Do you know when you won’t be occupied by your secret agent case?” 

There was a bitter tinge to his voice and Laine took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, Mr Barnes, I know you don’t like to be kept in the dark but it’s not my choice. Just know that it’s important enough to pull me away from this and you know I take my work seriously.”

Barnes stayed silent and then rubbed the bridge of his nose under the glasses, “Fine, yes. Work some of the backlog cold cases for now, I’ll send someone else to New Mexico. Dismissed, Agent Laine.” 

Laine stood up, leaving the case file on his desk and left the office. She walked back to her desk and picked up her neglected sandwich before plopping into her chair. The curiosity and nosing around her business with UMBRA was unsettling, Dr Pigeon was one thing but her supervisor quite another. There was a distinct dislike of her having access to information  he could not and Laine knew Barnes well enough to know the man would gnaw on a bone for a long time. The tenacity made him a good investigator but could also become obsessive and fixated. Laine hoped for his own sake he would forget about it. 

*****
>STAFFORD, VA
>HEATHER LAINE RESIDENCE
>11.JUL.2019
>0537...///

The phone chimed in the darkness, stirring Laine from sleep and she groped for it, fumbling until she managed to answer the unknown number.

"Hello?" She murmured, eyes still closed. 

"Special Agent Laine?"

"This is she," Laine replied and opened her eyes. "Who is this?"

"It's Mark, Agent Mark Garcia, New York office."

"Oh, hey Mark, it's really early, what's up? Did you find anything more on Carlisle? It could have waited," she said, rolling over onto her back and stretching. 

The voice on the other end sounded strained and there was anger there as he spoke, "Yeah I got something new on Carlisle, he's fucking gone. Someone snatched him a few hours ago."

Laine held her breath, so Donnelley had been successful getting to Carlisle. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, what happened? Maybe he just got wind of what was going on and split"

"No, this was not him running away. Information must have been leaked, someone wanted him because this was a goddamn mess. We got bodies here, including two local cops," he snapped then sighed heavily. "There was a shootout, whoever took Carlisle, they were professional. And...shit."

Laine was wide awake now. Two cops dead, shot down by Carlisle's kidnappers. [I] Goddamnit, Donnelley. [/I] 

"That's awful, any leads?" 

The silence stretched out before Agent Garcia finally spoke, "I'm working on it, Dr Laine. I gotta ask, why did you want that information on Carlisle."

Laine rubbed her eyes and said, "Because his name came up in a missing persons case. I'm sure that's not a surprise."

It was a white lie, she did want to know more about the modeling agent who procured children for his buyers. The thought made a knot in the pit of her stomach, memories of her own brief foray into modeling when she was younger, at her mother's insistence. At least that was one time Lila Laine listened to her daughter when she begged never to go back. 

She shook the memory away and listened as Garcia spoke again, "Of course, it's not surprising. Shit, it's a mess here. The house...just blood everywhere. Carlisle had a few guards and none survived. The family is shaken up, of course. Wife claims to know nothing of what Carlisle was up to or the extra millions in his bank accounts. Anyone that saw these guys is dead, our suspect has vanished. It's a real shit show."

"Sounds like it," Laine said, then fell silent. 

"Hey, sorry for waking you up," Garcia said, "I'm just grasping at fucking straws right now. I gotta go, I just heard someone reported a torched car."

The line went dead and she sat in bed, things must have gone bad if Donnelley was forced into a shootout with local cops. At least, she hoped it was something that they could not avoid. How far the Program would go to cover itself was still something that sat uneasy in the back of her mind. 

It was too late to go back to sleep so Laine rolled out of bed and looked at the floor. She had assumed the snatching of Carlisle would be something quiet but now the FBI was flocking all over the mansion in Yorktown. At least they would probably try to keep the press out of it as it was embarrassing for the Bureau to have their suspect stolen from under their noses. Dead hired guards for a piece of shit like Carlisle could be forgotten but the dead cops, that would raise interest. Local PD or the families, someone would question and then...? 

Laine took a deep breath, running a hand through her short sleep tousled hair. Would more people die because of the Program, the pieces of the bloody puzzle were becoming more intricate and dangerous. It was part of a more important war, she told herself, willing herself to believe that. 

She turned her thoughts to Maria Vasquez, how she must have suffered not just in her murder but from the day she was kidnapped. How many children just like her were stolen and sold, passed around to pedophiles and rapists all over the country. How many ended up in shallow graves or tossed in a landfill, used and discarded. People like Carlisle, like the Russians and the Cartels, all of the powerful men that found themselves with money to buy their protection from justice. All of them were the same evil as the Green River Killer or Ted Bundy, they just had the funds and connections to hide their crimes. Sociopaths were drifting murderers as well as CEOs and politicians, abusers and users knew no economic or class boundaries. Evil that resided in humanity, she had always believed that. It was not something that was an outside force. 

Whatever Donnelley did to get Carlisle to talk, Laine decided she could live with it even though she knew torture to often be ineffective as the person would say anything to get it to stop. But a man like Carlisle, this modeling agent who made his money exploiting children, he would find a way to slip out of the justice system. Or he would take the fall for those he served, either way, Carlisle was a key to big fish, the sharks that preyed on girls like Maria. 

Laine went to take a shower and get ready for work, her mind fogged by memories she had not wanted to think about and thoughts about two dead police officers with families that would receive folded flags and a bagpipe serenade. 

Her eyes opened wide and she turned the water from hot to cold, shocking herself to try and clear her mind. She gasped in the emptiness, the tiled walls amplifying her voice. Her phone sat on the sink and it beeped with an alert. Her work email she could see as she wrapped her towel around herself and sat down to see what it was about. 

VICAP results found: 1,254 items

Laine stared at the number and then nodded to herself, it was a lot but she could weed it down to the ones most closely related. It would take time and she was alone on this one. Laine set her phone down and went to get dressed for work. 

PT 1