Prologue

“Nicholas, just in time.” Nick Clark turned, finding himself face-to-face with the man he’d come to see.

“Director,” Nick greeted.

“How does it feel walking back in here with a shield and creds?” the director asked, offering Nick his hand.

“Different.” Nick took his hand in a firm shake and contemplated his answer.

He did feel different. Not even two days ago he’d walked through these very doors with his family. That had felt different as well, sitting in the front of the graduation hall taking his final oath, alongside the men and women who’d become his comrades. They’d spent the last six months together, training both physically and mentally toward a common goal – the honor to call themselves Special Agents.

He’d vowed his service and allegiance, to protect and serve, to honor the office of the FBI. Nick had sworn fidelity, bravery, and integrity. Words he would never forget, the very words that were proudly carved above the entrance to FBI headquarters and every field office across the U.S.

Now, as he stood in front of the building shaking the director’s hand, Nick felt the heaviness of his position weighing on him. All his life, Nick knew he wanted to serve, like his uncles. Only the military hadn’t appealed to him. He’d watched the toll it took on his uncles: Clark, Lenox, Levi, and Jasper. Every mission they’d completed seemed to take another bite out of their souls. While the men that had raised him and been his mentors were strong enough for that type of service, Nick knew he wasn’t. He wanted to help catch the bad guys, lock them up and keep the public safe on the homefront, not fight a war that was unwinnable – not in the immediate. Nick was far too impatient; he liked closure and control. He admired his uncles and knew their service was necessary and selfless, but he’d chosen a different path.

The FBI had been Nick’s dream. He found every part of the criminal mind fascinating, and the process in which the offender was apprehended even more so. The investigation and progression of a case had sparked something deep in Nick at a very young age. He’d been lucky growing up with four men who had taught him to hone his instincts. They’d schooled him on battlefield tactics and weapons safety the moment he’d expressed an interest in law enforcement. His uncles had also walked him through the process of critical thinking and crime scene investigation. While his uncles may have been gathering intel on terrorists in a foreign country, the process was the same.

“Come on. We’re meeting with Unit Chief Kilby. He should already be inside.”

The director held open the door for Nick to precede him. Once both men were in the building, Nick fell in step beside the director. Instead of going to the second floor where Nick knew the other man’s office was located, they continued further into the lobby before turning right and stopping in front of a set of double doors, frosted for privacy and Behavioral Analysist Unit etched in the glass.

Nick’s brow knitted, and he wondered why the director was taking him to the BAU. Not that he would question the man; Nick wasn’t dumb. The director scanned his badge and the lock clicked, allowing the men entrance into what he’d considered the Holy Grail of the FBI, a place that he’d fantasized about being a part of, but knew it would take a master’s degree and a decade of hard work to prove his worth before he’d even be considered. The badge clipped to his belt was still shiny and brand new. He couldn’t even call it a shield yet, he’d only earned it two days ago. It was silly, but to Nick, it would be a badge until it had some scratches on it, until he could prove himself as a SA.

The room was exactly as he’d known it would be. Not the desks, or office furniture, or the file cabinets that lined the wall, or even the conference room he could see off to the side. It was the energy of the room; it was electric and alive. These men and women dug into the psyche and picked it apart, analyzing a criminal’s behavior to reconstruct the unsub’s motives, method, and the rationale behind the crime. In other words, Nick thought the profilers with the BAU were brilliant and maybe a little twisted themselves. After all, there had to be a price to pay climbing into the mind of a killer.

“SSA Kilby.” the director greeted when they’d approached a tall man in his late forties. “This is SA Clark.”

“Yes. Nice to meet you. Let’s go into the conference room and talk.”

“A pleasure.” With a nod, Nick silently followed both men, scanning the office as he went.

When the men were seated around the table, SSA Kilby started. “The director tells me you were the top of your graduating class.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Please call me Kilby, everyone else does. We’re not big on formalities around here. The director gave me your file. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.”

“You scored exceptionally well all around; however, it is the way you processed the mock crime scenes that truly interests me. In all the scenarios you found things your peers had missed. And you analyzed the evidence presented differently as well.”

Kilby’s praise struck Nick straight in the gut. He didn’t often need validation from others but coming from SSA Kilby it meant something to him. However, Nick was mildly uncomfortable, and not knowing what to say, he remained quiet.

Kilby slid an image across the table to Nick. “What is the first thing that comes to mind when you look at that image?”

Nick looked down at the photograph of a grizzly crime scene; a male and female lying on the floor of a living room, blood pooling around their bodies, staining the carpet. Each had multiple stab wounds. At first glance, he’d say each had to have at least a dozen or more. He continued to scrutinize the image, looking for anything that stood out, nothing did. A family home, modest in the furnishings he could see. Nothing ransacked or displaced, both bodies still clothed, not posed.

“Why?” Nick asked.

“Why?” Kilby’s brow pulled up, and he studied Nick from across the table. “Interesting. Explain your question.”

“When I look at the crime scene the first thing I want to know is why. Why them? Why that house? Why did the offender use a knife? Why the overkill? What drove the unsub? Once I start there, I can work backwards through the solution matrix. It is easier to build on what I don’t know then find the who, what, where, and when. The why is what tells the real story.”

Kilby and the director exchanged a look before Kilby retrieved a file from the storage credenza behind him. For the first time since Nick entered the room, he took the time to take in his surroundings. A modern black laminate table with brushed aluminum sides, eight high-back leather executive chairs, a matching black storage cabinet, a bank of monitors hung on one wall, a large gold FBI - BAU crest embellished the adjoining wall. Classy, clean, and efficient. Nick sat back in his chair willing himself still, uncertain of what was happening. Oddly he felt like he was in a job interview. Not knowing if he’d passed the impromptu exam or got the job – not that he understood what the job was - was driving him crazy, but he refused to fidget in front of the men.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Kilby asked.

“No.”

“There is an opening on my team, SA Winters is leaving. He’s been asked to teach a class on the taxonomy of human behavior. The director and I have spoken at length about bringing you on the team as his replacement. A fresh set of eyes, no bad law enforcement habits to break, no preconceived bias. We can mold you into what we need. I still have my reservations. However, there is no denying you have a natural instinct that cannot be ignored. I’d like you to look at an ongoing investigation and present a profile and full report.”

Before Nick could answer, a manila folder was slid across the table. Nick stopped the dossier with his hand, looking down at it. Once again, his chest filled with pride - Federal Bureau of Investigations: Case File 033077RE neatly stamped on the front. He opened the folder, and his heart rate spiked, and not from the excitement of perusing his first official case. He thought about closing the file and taking a minute to mentally prepare for the image that had assaulted him. He stared at the crime scene photo - a woman lay dead in an alley. Dark hair, age unknown due to multiple stab wounds to her face, height, and weight indeterminable. Nick flipped the image, and the next photograph was worse. A blonde woman, again in an alley; this woman’s face was peeling and blistered, her features and age uncertain. Nick flipped through more pages, all women, all with facial disfiguration; blondes, brunettes, red heads, and black hair. All white, all dumped in the open.

When he got to the last image, he turned it over and looked at the men, carefully studying him.

“Eleven women over twelve months,” Kilby started. “You’ll find the rest of the information at the desk I had cleared for you. I’ll introduce you to the team and let you get to work.”

What the fuck had just happened? Nick gawked at the unit chief and hoped his mouth wasn’t actually hanging open in his stupor.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” Nick stammered. “When would you like the profile?”

“Tomorrow. You’ll present it to the team at 9 a.m.”

Tomorrow? Was Kilby insane? He’d need more than twenty-four hours to properly comb the case and research the terminology and theories he still didn’t grasp. He still had so much to learn, ten years’ worth of knowledge to be exact, that was the average time it took before an agent was considered.

“Don’t over think this. I don’t want a textbook profile. I have four highly qualified profilers that have already worked up a report. I want your gut feeling. Tell me the why. Think outside the box.”

“I don’t know what the box is in this case.”

“The box is the textbook profile, look past it. Tell me what we don’t know. That’s how we’ll find this son of a bitch. Stop thinking like Special Agent Nick Clark and get in killer’s head; feel it, experience it, what’s the fantasy. Then you’ll have your composite of the offender.”

Wordlessly, Nick stood when the other two men did and followed them back into the central office. Three men and a woman were standing near an empty desk, their conversation coming to a halt as the three men approached.

“Nick Clark this is, Mike Gonzales, Joel Brinkley, Ben Dailey, and Mandy Brown. Your new team.”

And that was the beginning of Nick’s trial by fire and unconventional introduction to the BAU.