( As dictated to Jordan )

BAU Agent Jolly Baker POV
( Nome, Alaska )

The city morgue located in Nome Alaska was just a small one-story building built back in 1901. I remember that fact from a book report I wrote back in high school. Damn, that seems so long ago. My hand rests lightly on the railing as I walk up the steps to the porch. As I approach the door, I see my reflection and run a tan gloved hand over my brown bobbed hair to smooth it down. Damned humidity. The black slacks and brown boots look good, as does my thick brown sweater with the largely looped knit scarf around my neck. Looking back at the door, I take a deep breath and enter the building. Three pairs of eyes turn to look at me. Two that show their recognition from when I investigated the place the body of the child was left, and another pair of eyes that held a great amount of curiosity. Sheriff Blake, with Deputy Kerns, and the curious talk man with black hair must be coroner Jacobs. Stepping forward, I removed my glove and held out my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Agent Jolly Baker of the BAU in Quantico, And you are?" I inclined my head to each of them as I spoke their names."Sheriff Blake, Deputy Kerns, it's good to see you again, despite the circumstances."

The coroner grasped my hand in a good firm grip. "Great to meet you here Ms. Baker, my name is Liam. Liam Blackstone." He let my hand go free and held out his arm toward the empty hallway. "Please, follow me." He led us all out of the cedar wood-paneled room, and down a wide but short hallway. Opening the door on the right at the end of the hall, he gestured for us all to enter. Inside, was the body laying on a metal slab, covered with a sheet. The room was painted a pale blue and had six separate medical counters set up with various types of equipment. One stood alone at the far end with a huge microscope.

As I approached the table in the center slowly, Mr. Blackstone reached to the counter and started passing out latex gloves to everyone. Just as I snap them both on, he lifts the sheet and I cringe back. "Oh God, what kind of monster would do this to a child..." This was a boy, so young, still delicate, and frail-looking. His chocolate brown hair fell back and away from his forehead. The face of an angel. An angel with three-inch cuts to the corners of his mouth. Thomas Turley was a poor sweet soul. My heart went out to his parents.

Looking smug, Sheriff Blake took on a superior attitude and replied, "Isn't it your job to figure that out?"

I turned on him in all my professional anger. "Before I am an Agent of the BAU, I am a human being. If you do not care to accept that, then I suggest you just turn around and leave. Mr. Blackstone here can be a witness while I record my findings. Asking you here is just a professional courtesy. Stay or go, I no longer care. Though I am sure it won't look good for the political side of your career if you leave. My concern here is the boy and possible future victims. Not to kiss ass to your ego. Now if you plan to stay, shut up and let me do my job, but maintain your focus." A good dressing down if I say so myself.

Turning back to the table, I pulled out my usual little microcassette recorder. It was old, but it did its job. As I examined the body, I saw that it was just the same as the woman, Jessica Snyder back in Heppner, Oregon. I had to look deeper. I clicked on the voice-activated recorder "The cleaning of the organs suggests that our killer either has a form of an OCD or that he is trying to purify his victims. Like removing all the ugliness from within. Thus the removal of the brain. The killer shows a sign of respect for the human body through all the intricate and perfectly spaced sutures. The bleach used on the organs, I believe was done in the killer's way of thinking, to help sterilize them into his version of "perfection." This is one person that took the saying of 'Cleanliness is closer to Godliness," way too far. The brutality in the removal of the brain, I think was his way of showing disgust that such an organ can create such ugliness and filth in this world. But still, why paralyze them and let them watch? To punish them? To punish himself? That one is hard to tell. As is the connection between the bodies. There is none. Just the way they were killed." I shut off the recorder for a few minutes and look toward Sheriff Blake. "With the way, the body was positioned, how was it held in place with the arms and hands placed against the doors of City Hall?" He looked down and took a step forward.

When he raised his blue eyes I could see the sadness within them. "He was held up with super glue. A lot of it too. It took a long time until we could bring him down. By then his joints were all frozen up with rigor mortis." Sheriff Blake looked down at the boy. "Poor soul." He whispered. Not a soul in the room moved or spoke. All of us in our own thoughts.

We were looking at a killer that was calm and calculated. One that used the safety and security of small towns against themselves. All the killers planning to do these things meant the person had access to a shitload of cash. So how long could the killer keep it up? All the supplies he needed to do this kind of work, meant thousands. "What about the parents? When did they figure the boy had gone missing?" I turned to both the Sheriff and the Deputy.

Deputy Kerns straightened his throat. "He was sent to bed at ten o'clock. The patents went to bed and in the morning discovered his loss. There were fresh scrape marks of the child's size on the window sill. He let himself out." Nodding, I looked at them all.

"It looks like our killer is taking people off the street during the late evening hours. I wonder though if the boy had done this kind of sneaking out before. Where he could have been watched." I looked down at poor Thomas Turley and said a little prayer, that bright red lipstick "X" on his forehead mocking me. All we can hope for when it comes down to the mark is that it only means "X" marks the spot. Otherwise, God help us all... As I rose back up from the prayer, Mr. Blackstone smiled at me kindly and once again raised the sheet back up to cover poor Thomas.

As we all walked outside into the cold air, I shivered as I thought back and had to admit Ash was right. This killer isn't done. Not by a long shot. But the problem was where? Is there a reason why there is nothing to link the two sites? Or are we all being played with? Or even more frightening, is this serial killer a sane person? With this thought in mind, my whole body shuddered with fear.