The sun shines brightly, lighting up the entire field while birds chirp in the trees. A light breeze touches my skin, but I want to snap it away as it reminds me of my whereabouts, and I hate nothing more than the fact this weather is amazing for such a day.

The velvet jacket scratches my skin because it’s too hot for such clothes, but I don’t care. The priest continues to read passages that seem related to the situation, while people are sniffing or crying and sending pitying glances my way in the process.

Not that I focus on them, numbly watching the three coffins in front of me that hold the people dearest to my heart.

Their lifeless bodies are cold, so cold I can’t even remember their warmth anymore, even though it has been only five days.

My nails dig in my palm, shooting pain to my brain, which I welcome, because it’s the only thing keeping me alive. The only thing that allows me to be brave enough to face each new day, even though everything in me screams to run, to beg someone to kill me. So I won’t be alone, so I won’t feel the exhausting desperation as my world crumbles around me.

The majority of newspapers and TV reporters call me lucky because I’m the one person who managed to escape the serial killer.

Lucky.

How ironic.

The priest must have finished at some point and the men come to lower the coffins into the ground as people stand to say their final goodbyes. Most of them are my parents’ coworkers, neighbors, parents from Sarah’s school. Even my school’s teachers showed up, giving me their support.

I slowly walk to the coffins, knowing full well everyone’s eyes are on me as the thorns of the roses hurt my skin. I plucked them from our garden, because they are my mom’s favorite.

Were.

I should learn to use past tense when thinking about them.

I taste the salty tears streaming down my cheeks as sobs threaten to escape, but I can’t allow it.

Not here, not now, maybe not ever.

“I love you,” I whisper, and throw the roses on each of their graves, wiping my face while Agent Bates comes closer, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I just shrug, not wanting to nod or give any other reaction.

Why don’t they understand their words don’t bring comfort to me? I don’t feel bad for acting this way; they should know better.

“Ella, none of your family wants to take you in,” he states, and I snort, although it lacks any humor. He wants to have this conversation here?

As if it’s a surprise. My dad’s side never liked my mother, so it is no wonder they’ve refused. “Normally, it would have meant that you’d have to go to foster care until you turn eighteen.” I frown at this information, finally meeting his eyes as he continues. “But the Donovan family offered to take you in until your graduation, and this way you will not have to move or jeopardize your future.”

What?

On instinct, my head moves in the direction of Chloe’s family, who stare at us tentatively, as if searching for my reaction to this news.

Nothing in my life will ever be normal again, and I’m not sure what I want to do with my future. But for them to honor their friendship with my parents like this and be willing to give me a roof over my head when they don't have to?

At this vulnerable moment in my life, it means everything.

Ignoring the agent, I rush to Chloe, and in a second, I end up in her arms, sobs shaking my body while she holds me tight, not letting me fall. She soothes my back with her pats, while I cling to her. She is the only thing left in my life.

“They are gone, Chloe,” I say hoarsely into her neck as she whimpers in pain.

“I know, honey. I know.” And because she doesn’t try to reassure me or give me bullshit that someday it will be better, I hold her tight, hoping that someday life will not be a never-ending nightmare.

Ella

I continue to sip my coffee, while Andrea asks, “So what’s your experience in the field?”

“I worked for a few years with a private investigator.” My reply doesn't impress Jacob as he raises his brow.

“To land a job here, you’ve got to have at least seven to fifteen years of experience in law enforcement. The only exception among us is our man Preston.” He points at the guy who shuffles channels on the TV while checking something on his iPad and then huffing in frustration. “He got in because he hacked someone he shouldn’t, and the FBI always keeps impressive talent.” Yeah, this information is common knowledge. People sort of don't have a choice but to work for the government, unless they prefer to spend time in jail.

“Well then I was an exception.” I try to lighten up the mood, but none of them seems impressed. Andrea just plays with the spoon in her cup while Kierian leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze never leaving mine.

“What makes you so special?”

Before I can answer his question, Jacob rudely interrupts me.

“So we lost Jenny because you are someone’s daughter or have a connection here?” He squeezes the cup harshly, and I’m surprised he doesn't break the thing.

So that’s the source of his anger? I should have expected that.

They informed me a few weeks ago that their agent Jenny was injured during one of the cases, and she couldn’t come back to work due to psychological trauma. They gave her several chances, but at some point, they had to give up. She had worked with these people for around five years, so no wonder they see me as an enemy now.

Their loyalty lies with their friend.

“I don’t have any family working in FBI.” Any thought or mention of my family unsettles me as it takes me back to all those awful moments I’ve experienced. None of them misses my breath hitching, and even Preston turns around to give me a curious look. “Like I said to Andrea earlier, I worked in cognitive psychology while also helping a private investigator get to the bottom of psychological crimes. I applied several times to work with the police, but they declined.” I don't feel like sharing with them about my past, so I keep it vague like that. “But then—”

Noah enters the conference room, takes the situation in, and finishes for me. “She was the one who caught Smith.”

A shudder runs through me as memories of that day wash over me like an ocean wave, the images playing like a movie in front of my eyes.

The crazy person who entered the train and claimed he had a bomb, the panic among people, his demands to the law. Thankfully, I convinced him not to do anything drastic, and the police came in time to save us all.

All because I could recognize the signs of a psychopath in him so easily; it was like a natural-born talent in me. That gained the attention of the FBI, and since I’d applied for years for any kind of position in BAU, Noah’s call was a gift from heaven.

Preston whistles and then turns on the monitor while the lights go off, and everyone forgets about me and focuses their attention on the case. “Yesterday, the New York police department got a call from the Hudson River area. A body was found, or what was left of it anyway.”

He clicks and several pictures of scattered and chopped flesh appear, and I almost spit my coffee even though the rest of the team has no reaction.

They are probably used to it by now, but holy crap! Kierian even manages to grab a bite of his doughnut. How can he eat while looking at this?

“Animals already ate most of it, but it’s clear that someone just destroyed certain pieces, keeping the body intact as a whole.” He clicks again and we have a zoom in on the pieces. Everything is smeared in blood, while one piece of a person’s hand lies in the middle of the forest floor. The fingers are chopped and fingernails are gone. “Oddly enough, wolves or coyotes did more damage than the unsub. At least on the outside it seems that way. They scanned the teeth, and the victim is thirty-five-year-old Thomas Parker. He didn’t return home from work four months ago, and his wife filed a missing person report.”

“Why did they call us?” Jacob asks, as he zooms in even more on his iPad to study the details. “For us to take the case, we’d need more bodies than this one.”

“That’s the thing.” Preston clicks again and the screen changes to a few other slides that hold similar pictures, but the pieces on them look older, and the find consists more of bones. “They found one more body, several feet away from the first one.” He huffs in exasperation as several slides mix up before he settles on the right one. “They’re searching the place for more. Quite an odd place to bury your victims, but something must’ve driven him there.”

Jacob leans back in his chair, disgust written all over him. “We are dealing with a serial killer then.”

“A dangerous serial killer.” Kierian finally speaks while he points at the body. “Look at all this work. That takes time and dedication. He planned this. It’s not spur of the moment.”

“No sign of remorse either. He doesn’t respect the victims, based on how he threw them away. For him, they deserved it,” I murmur, making a mental note to myself.

A serial killer without remorse equals a smart serial killer. They don’t have emotions clouding their judgment, and everything is for their personal gain only. They will use everything from manipulation to torture to get what they want.

“Do they know how long ago the other crime was?” Andrea bites on her pen. “How did he escape our radar for so long?”

“The autopsy should be ready soon, but my guess? Around a year based on the condition of the bones.”

“Two victims at least in the span of a few months.” Noah finally speaks. “He is evolving.”

Preston nods. “And doesn’t think anyone can stop him.”

I agree with his conclusion, because he doesn’t even bother to hide the bodies properly. “Any information on the other victim? Are they connected in any way?”

Preston shakes his head. “Ken Aldridge was a middle-aged man who taught music at a school, and had a loving marriage and two kids. Thomas was a lawyer with a kid on the way. No mutual friends, hobbies, or anything else. Never crossed paths.”

“For a serial killer like this guy, there must be a pattern that triggers his MO,” Jacob muses. “He doesn’t randomly pick them. But what is it?”

“That’s why they invited us. Okay, get in the cars. We need to see the crime scene as soon as possible. Maybe we’ll find something useful. Andrea and Jacob, you go to the morgue and study the pieces. I’ll speak with the detective assigned to the case. Preston, check for similar crimes in any other cities or states. Solved or not. Kierian, take Ella with you and check out the crime scene. They’re still scanning the place.” Noah barks orders quickly and everyone spins into action.

Of all things, he chose for me to see the crime scene on my first day.

Why?

Psychopath

She nervously bites her nail as she gets her stuff ready to go, and I can barely contain the sinister smile that threatens to spill out at the prospect of her fear.

The wince, the horror flashing in her eyes during the presentation. I long to show her more, for her to see how a man can go insane.

And also pride… she needs to see what I’m capable of so she’ll forever understand.

There is no escape from me.

But first, she needs to know. She needs to show me she is worthy for me to spill my secret to her.

Unfortunately for her, it means solving a crime.

My fingers prickle as familiar excitement rushes through me, but I fist my hand and keep the indifferent expression, because the time hasn’t come yet.

Anniversary be fucking damned.