━━━━━━━━┛ ♱ ┗━━━━━━━━

𝙑𝙊𝙇𝙐𝙈𝙀 𝑰𝑰𝑰.  ──────────  RUIN!

❛ like a dog with a      bird at your door. . . ❜
─── chapter nine! ❫

009.  ╱    ❝ you've got 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 on your
𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘. . . you're the one that saw
me in the 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑'𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

TW  /   please read below :
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
discussions of murder and religious +
child abuse mentions of torture and
violence  direct references to religion
and christianity depictions of blood,
corpses                  +                      murder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

﹙ 𝕿UESDAY ━ 𝕸ARCH 31ST, 2015 ﹚

     A GLOOMY PALL CAST OVER THE F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS AND ACADEMY IN QUANTICO, VIRGINIA. The early morning sun struggled to penetrate through the thick clouds hanging overhead. On the sixth floor of headquarters, the BAU team sat inside their designated round table conference room. The air was filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sheets of printed paper. The hum of the air conditioning provided a soft background noise, occasionally punctuated by the rustle of files or the clink of a coffee mug against the polished wood table.

     Hotch sat in his usual seat off to the right near the wall of windows. Despite his composed exterior, the subtle tightness around his eyes revealed the weight of the case bearing down on him, along with the fact he hadn't heard from Carson Crest or received an update from Garcia. He ran a hand through his short dark hair and surveyed his team.

     To his left, Rossi nursed a cup of strong Italian roast, the aroma wafting across the space. His salt-and-pepper goatee was neatly trimmed, but the shadows under his eyes spoke of last night's late escapades—poring over old case files with no success locating his original files from the Crest family murders.

     To Rossi's left, Morgan's muscular frame was coiled with restless energy, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the arm of his chair. The seat next to him, usually Reid's, was empty.

     JJ and Kate sat side by side, their heads bent close while they exchanged quiet words, a stack of victim profiles spread out before them. The corners of JJ's mouth were turned down slightly while Kate rubbed her forehead. Neither of them had slept well.

     Next to Hotch, on his right, Garcia's usual vibrant energy was somewhat subdued. Her hot pink and green dress and accommodating hair accessories stood out in the somber mood of the room. She was typing away on her computer with her tablet beside her, her hot pink cat-eye-shaped glasses perched perfectly on her nose.

     Reid was already on his feet, pinning up maps and photographs on the evidence boards that lined one wall of the room. His nimble fingers moved with practiced ease, creating a visual tapestry of geographical data. The young genius's brow was furrowed in concentration, his mind racing ahead of his actions.

     "All right, let's get started," Hotch announced, cutting through the low murmur of conversation. The team straightened in their seats, all eyes shifting to their Unit Chief. "Reid, what have you found in your geographical profiles?"

     Turning away from the evidence boards, Reid's lanky frame radiated nervous energy. He gestured to the maps behind him, covered in a constellation of red and blue pins connected by strings of different colors. "I've been comparing the geographical aspects of our recent Virginia case with the Crest family murders in West Linn, Oregon, from 1984," he began, his words tumbling out in his typical rapid-fire delivery.

     "At first glance, there doesn't seem to be a connection. West Linn and Fairfax are over 2,800 miles apart," he continued, pointing to the two locations on a large map of the United States. "However, when we look closer at the specifics of each location, some interesting patterns emerge."

     He moved to a more detailed map of West Linn. "The Crest family lived in a relatively isolated area, their house bordered by dense forest. The property was situated less than a mile from the Willamette River." His fingertips traced the path of the river on the map. "Similarly," he shifted to a map of Fairfax, "our recent victims, the Andersons, lived in a suburban area but their house backed onto a small wooded area and was within walking distance of Lake Fairfax."

     "Both locations provide easy access for an UnSub to approach undetected and retreat quickly," Rossi mused, leaning forward in his chair. The leather creaked softly under his movement.

     Reid nodded enthusiastically, a lock of curly brown hair falling across his forehead. "Exactly. And there's more. In both cases, the homes were situated in areas that offered privacy but weren't completely cut off from civilization. They were close enough to town centers for the families to lead normal lives, but isolated enough for an UnSub to operate without immediate detection." 

     "Could the UnSub have some connection to water?" JJ asked, her blue eyes narrowing in thought. "Maybe it holds some symbolic meaning for them?"

     "It's certainly possible," Reid replied, his hands moving animatedly. "Water plays a significant role in many cultures and religions. It can symbolize purification, rebirth, or even destruction. Right now, we only have the crime scene photographs from the Anderson case where the positioning of the bodies was almost ritualistic. Rossi mentioned yesterday that the Crest case included odd positioning of the bodies and religious undertones. I hypothesize there is something ritualistic and possibly religious about these murders. It could be an important part of the UnSub's mythology."

     Morgan leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. "So we're looking at someone who's comfortable in these semi-rural environments. Someone who knows how to move through wooded areas without a trace."

     "And someone who's patient," Hotch added, his gaze intense as he studied the maps. "These locations would require careful planning and observation. Our UnSub isn't choosing targets at random." A beat of silence passed. "Good work, Reid. JJ, Kate, what does victimology tell us?"

     JJ and Kate exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. JJ stood, smoothing out her white blouse. She moved to the front of the room, her blonde hair catching the fluorescent light. Kate followed, her steps heavy, taking position beside her colleague with a stack of files in her hands.

     "Kate and I have been analyzing the victimology of both the Crest and the Anderson families," JJ began steadily, motioning to the stack. "On the surface, these families seem pretty different, but we've found some interesting parallels."

     Opening one of the files, Kate hummed in agreement. The sound of crisp paper cut through the air. "The Crest family in 1984 consisted of Cyrus Crest, 38, Mary Crest, 36, and their twins, Carson and Malcolm, both 7 at the time. Cyrus was a co-pastor at a local church and worked as an accountant. Mary ran the city's primary soup kitchen and homeless shelter."

     Rossi's jaw clenched at the mention of the Crests, his fingers tightening around his coffee mug. A flicker of old pain and frustration crossed his face, gone as quickly as it appeared.

     "And the Andersons?" Hotch prompted, his pen poised over his notepad. The scratching of his pen against paper was audible in the hushed room, a sound that usually brought comfort but now underscored the growing gravity of the situation.

     JJ answered, "Ian Anderson, 42, was the CEO of a local tech startup. His wife, Isabelle, 39, was a kindergarten teacher. They had two children: Ethan, 10, and Hadley, 7."

     Garcia's fingers flew over her computer keyboard, pulling up images of both families on the large screen. The smiling faces of the victims stared back at the team.

     "So we have families that, on the surface, are pillars of their communities," Morgan observed, rubbing his jaw, a habit he'd picked up from his father as a kid. "Successful, involved in charity or education..."

     "Exactly," Kate confirmed, her gaze meeting Morgan's. "Both families were well-respected in their communities. They were active in local events, volunteered, and by all accounts, appeared to be loving, close-knit units."

     Reid, ever perceptive, quickly picked up on the nonverbal 'but'. "But there's more to it, isn't there?"

     JJ nodded, her expression grim. "We dug deeper into both families' backgrounds. The Crests, despite their outward appearance of being the perfect religious family, had some secrets. We found hospital records for both Carson and Malcolm spanning over three years, showing multiple visits for various injuries."

     "I need to interject here," Rossi cleared his throat, his countenance etched with anger and regret. The lines around his eyes deepened. "The Crest family was anything but loving. Those kids, Malcolm and Carson, they were being abused by their parents. The hospital records prove it."

     Everyone's attention snapped to him and the atmosphere abruptly shifted. Even the usual hum of the air conditioning seemed muted.

     "What kind of abuse are we talking about, Dave?" Hotch asked, his tone carefully controlled.

     Rossi's jaw tightened when he replied, his words coming out as if each one pained him. "Take your pick. Physical, emotional, verbal, religious. Gideon and I saw it firsthand when we worked the case. Those kids were living in Hell long before the murders."

     "Religious abuse?" Reid questioned, his curiosity warring with horror.

     "Cyrus and Mary yielded religion like a weapon," Rossi explained, his voice tinged with disgust. "They'd quote scripture to justify the abuse, perform 'cleansing' rituals that were nothing short of torture. Carson once told Gideon that her parents justified it by saying they were purifying her and Malcolm. Saving them. It was... it was bad."

     Garcia's eyes widened and her mouth fell open, she placed a hand on her heart. Her usual vibrant demeanor was obscured by the horror of what she was hearing. "Oh, my sweet stars."

     JJ felt sick to her stomach as she added shakily, "Like you said, the hospital records do prove it. The twins didn't have all the same injuries. Carson came in numerous times with bruised ribs, second-degree burns on her arms and back, a twisted ankle, swollen wrists, and a litany of bruises in various stages of healing. Malcolm's records show a broken arm, sprained ankle, burns similar to Carson's, numerous cuts, and bruises."

     "There was one injury that the twins did have that matched," Rossi cut in, grimacing even though the words hadn't left his mouth yet. "It speaks to the ritualistic aspect of the abuse and murders. Mary Crest carved a cross into the palm of their left hands days before the murders took place."

     Silence.

     There was a gasp and Hotch's pen almost fell out of his fingers. Everyone was stunned. In all their years of working, they'd never encountered an injury like that. Let alone heard of a mother doing that to her own children, not once but twice.

     "How the hell did no one stop that?!" Morgan scoffed, pure frustration evident. He sat up. "Surely someone must have noticed."

     Rossi shook his head, wearing a bitter smile. "Child Protective Services was called at one point. The kids denied any abuse, and without their testimony, CPS couldn't do much. The case was closed without action. The police captain at the time and lead detective on the case knew about the abuse allegations, but with Family Services closing the case, their hands were tied."

     Hotch's expression darkened. "This changes things. We're not just looking at a seemingly perfect family or a family with secrets. We're looking at the potential for hidden abuse and trauma."

     JJ managed to keep her composure and continued, "Regarding the Andersons, we couldn't find any evidence of abuse. However, we did uncover some financial troubles. Ian's startup was struggling, and they had recently taken out a second mortgage on their house."

     "So on the one hand, we have a family hiding abuse behind a religious facade," Morgan summarized roughly, calming down, "and on the other, a family hiding financial struggles behind a successful image."

     "It could be that our UnSub is targeting families with secrets," Reid suggested, his mind trying to connect the dots. "Families that appear perfect on the outside but have hidden issues."

     Hotch nodded slowly. "It's possible. What about the survivors? Carson Crest and Hadley Anderson?"

     Flipping through her notes, Kate stopped on a page. "Both girls were seven at the time of the murders. Carson was found in the foyer while Hadley was discovered hiding in a closet. Neither could provide much information about the attacker."

     At that final sentence, Rossi kept his mouth shut. Until they could get Carson Crest there and the Willamette Wraith wasn't brought up on its own, he was leaving it out of this. The Wraith caused enough issues in the original case.

     "The age similarity could be significant to the UnSub," Reid mused. "Seven is often considered a pivotal age in various cultures and religions. In Catholicism, it's seen as the age of reason."

     "Both girls were described as kind, bubbly children. Teachers noted they were quiet but well-liked by their peers," Kate said, glancing at everyone else.

     "And now?" Hotch prompted.

     "Carson Crest, as we know, has become a successful corporate lawyer in New York. She's a single mother to an adopted daughter," JJ replied. "Hadley Anderson is currently in the care of her maternal grandparents. It's too early to say how this trauma will affect her long-term."

     Another beat of silence passed. The tension from the previous revelations still hung heavy.

     "Excellent job, JJ and Kate," Hotch said, giving them each a nod. "Morgan, let's go over what we found at the Anderson crime scene."

     With his jaw still clenched in barely contained anger, Morgan nodded. "Right," he started, clearing his throat. Garcia brought up the crime scene photographs on the smart board. The images were graphic and disturbing in their clinical detail. "The Anderson family was found in their home on the evening of March 22nd. A neighbor called 911 after hearing what they described as 'strange noises' coming from the house. When local PD arrived, they found the front door unlocked. There were no signs of forced entry."

     "Which suggests the UnSub either had a key or was let in willingly," Reid interjected, his brow furrowed in concentration.

     Morgan nodded. "Exactly. The bodies of Ian and Isabelle Anderson were found in the dining room." He clicked to the next photo, showing two bodies arranged on the floor. The team collectively tensed at the image. "They were positioned directly across the room from each other."

     Hotch took over, his voice steady despite the gruesome nature of the evidence. "Both adults had multiple stab wounds. The ME's preliminary report indicates that the fatal wounds were to the heart, delivered with significant force. Regarding Ethan, he had only one stab wound directly to the heart."

     "A single, precise strike," Rossi mused. "That's a significant change in MO between the adults and the child."

     "It could indicate remorse or hesitation when it came to killing the child," JJ suggested.

     Hotch nodded. "We thought the same. It's worth noting that in the Crest case, the son, Malcolm, was also killed with a single stab wound to the heart."

     "And Hadley?" Garcia asked gently, concern plastered over her features. "Has she said anything yet?"

     Morgan's expression softened slightly. "No. She hasn't been able to provide much information about what happened. She's still in a state of shock."

     "Just like Carson Crest," Rossi sighed, running a hand over his goatee.

     "The similarities are hard to ignore," Hotch pointed out, gesturing to the screen. "In both cases, a seven-year-old girl survives while the rest of her family is murdered."

     Reid's eyes lit up when a thought struck him. "Where was the piece of black fabric found? The one with Cyrus Crest's DNA?"

     The question made Garcia pull up the close-up image of the fabric. There was one part that was significantly darker than the rest. It was dried blood.

     "It was left on the floor between the parents, inches away from pools of blood," Hotch answered.

     Pursing his lips, Rossi rolled them together and kept his mouth shut again. Until he had his notes, he didn't want to speak too soon and share his thoughts.

     "As of right now, we don't have full access to the Crest file and the crime scene photos. Until we receive them from West Linn PD or Rossi locates his original case file, that's all we have for now on the crime scene," Hotch said, smoothing out his tie. "Before we get back to work, Garcia, have you had any luck getting in touch with Carson Crest?"

     Garcia straightened in her chair, her bracelets jingling with the movement. She tapped a few keys on her tablet, pulling up some notes. "About that, sir," she began, her response infused with some frustration. "I've hit a bit of a... fabulous brick wall."

     Hotch's brow raised subtly. "What kind of brick wall?"

     "Well," she resumed, her fingers fidgeting with a sparkly pen, "I spoke to Melanie Wells, Carson's secretary at Gallagher & Lang. She informed me that Carson is currently on vacation." Her voice took on a slightly mocking tone as she added, "And apparently, the firm has a strict policy about not releasing employees' personal information or vacation details."

     Morgan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. The ghost of a playful smirk emerged. "Can't you just, you know, work your magic?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at her computer.

     Garcia's eyes widened behind her glasses, a flicker of her usual spark returning. "Derek Morgan, are you suggesting I hack into a prestigious law firm's private records?" She paused for dramatic effect, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Because I totally could, but given who Carson is and the nature of this case, I thought it best to tread carefully."

     Chuckling, Kate shook her head.

     Nodding, Hotch sighed inaudibly. "Good call. We need to handle this delicately."

     "Did Melanie give you any indication of when Carson might return?" JJ asked, tucking her hair behind her ears.

     Garcia shook her head, her earrings swaying. "No specific date. She did say she would alert Carson that we're trying to get in touch with her, but she couldn't promise anything."

     "Carson's smart," Rossi said, re-entering the conversation. "If she's deliberately making herself hard to reach, she might have a reason."

     "You think she knows something or knows about this?" Kate asked, her pen hovering above her notepad.

     He shrugged. "It's possible. Or she might be scared. Either way, we need to tread carefully."

     Reid, who'd also been quiet for a while, spoke up. "Have we considered that Carson might come to us? If she's aware of the connection between the cases, she might reach out on her own."

     Well...

     Hotch considered this for a moment. "It's possible. In the meantime, we need to keep working with what we have." He turned to Garcia. "Keep trying to reach Ms. Crest, but don't push too hard. We don't want to spook her."

     Like yesterday, Morgan's eyebrows raised an inch higher at the formal acknowledgment. He locked eyes with Garcia, JJ, and Kate, all four sharing a look.

     "Yes, sir," Garcia nodded, glancing away from her friends. "I'm also still working on getting access to the original case files from the West Linn Police Department, but bureaucracy moves at the speed of a sloth on vacation."

     "Keep at it," Hotch encouraged. He then addressed the entire team. "Until we can speak with Ms. Crest, we need to focus on building a profile based on what we know. Reid, continue analyzing the geographical aspects. JJ, Kate, dig deeper into the victimology and speak with the local officers. Morgan, I want you to start putting together a preliminary profile of our UnSub."

     Everyone nodded, each member already mentally preparing for their tasks. It was going to be another busy day.

     "Rossi," Hotch kept going, "I need you to write down everything you can remember about the original Crest case. Every detail, no matter how small, could be crucial. Keep looking for the file."

     The man forced a half-smile. "Got it. Anderson's helping me search in the archives today. Hopefully, we'll find something."

     "All right. Let's get to work. We'll reconvene at noon."

── 𐀔 ──

     THE POLISHED SILVER ELEVATOR DOORS SLID OPEN WITH A SOFT DING. The sixth floor of the F.B.I.'s headquarters was home to the Behavioral Analysis Unit which was bustling with activity. The scent of coffee and printer ink was distinguishable and it mingled with the faint smell of sanitizer. Fluorescent yellow lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow everywhere.

     Carson Crest stepped out of the shaft, her posture straight and confident. The black pointed heels she wore clicked decisively. She wore one of her signature tailored black pantsuits, the fabric whispering as she moved. Her earthy-brown eyes were alert and observant, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

     Parker followed close behind, her eyes wide with excitement and apprehension. Her footsteps were clunky as her boots moved across the tiled floor. She had a vision of youthful energy compared to her mom. It wasn't hard to tell she didn't belong in the BAU or at the F.B.I. in her multicolored patchwork jeans with abstract women painted on them and a knitted black tank top with stripes that matched. Her curly hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few stray tendrils framing her face. She clutched the strap of her backpack tightly with one hand, her knuckles white with tension. Her other hand was fidgeting with the moon pendant around her neck.

     A relatively empty waiting area in front of the elevator greeted them. About twenty-five feet away was a set of glass double doors leading into the main office area of the sixth floor. Through the doors, numerous agents could be seen moving about and working. To the left was a never-ending hallway and closed doors.

     In unison, the Crest women walked to the glass doors. Carson grabbed one of the silver handles, opening it wide for her daughter to enter first. Parker shot her a nervous smile and entered, taking a deep breath.

     The BAU floor was an open-plan space, dominated by a cluster of desks in the center. Each workstation was a controlled chaos of case files, coffee mugs, and personal touches—a family photo here, a small plant there. The walls were adorned with bulletin boards telling silent stories of ongoing investigations and Bureau certificates.

     To the right was a small kitchenette area and a set of stairs that led to a conference room. To the left, there were multiple bookshelves and printers. Further past was a short flight of stairs that led to two offices side by side, the small walkway wrapping around and connecting to the large conference room. A railing outlined the upper floor and offered a view of the activity below.

     Carson's hand instinctively went to the visitor's badge clipped to her blazer, the plastic cool against her fingers. Most people would feel exposed, out of their element. Carson supposed she should feel that way, but she didn't.

     Parker leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mom, this is intense," she murmured, her line of sight darting from agent to agent. "It's like we've walked onto the set of a crime show."

     "I know, stink," Carson muttered, still searching the room for someone who could assist and wasn't insanely preoccupied. "Remember why we're here—we need to tell them what we know. We'll assist as much as we can, then we'll go to Florida as planned."

     Parker glanced at her, a small smile forming. "I wouldn't mind missing Universal for being at the F.B.I. Zoe's going to be so jealous," she whispered, giggling when her mom loosely rolled her eyes.

     An agent with red hair and a crisp white shirt passed by with a stack of papers and stopped. "Can I help you?" he asked, his tone friendly but cautious. He didn't recognize either woman and shortly figured out why—visitor passes.

     With her shoulders squared back as always, Carson's gaze was sharp and her chin was lifted. "Yes, we're looking for SSA Aaron Hotchner's office. Could you point us in the right direction?" she asked, lightly raising an eyebrow.

     The agent nodded, gesturing toward the short flight of stairs. "Up there, first door on the left. You can't miss it."

     "Thank you," Carson replied with a polite smile. She turned to Parker, talking at a low volume. "Ready, stinker?"

     Parker nodded, her curls bouncing. "As I'll ever be," she murmured, excitement and nervousness woven in those four words. Her fingers smoothed out the fabric of her tank top, a habit she'd picked up from Carson.

     Together, they made their way up the small set of stairs, the metal treads creaking under their weight. The noise of the bullpen faded and was replaced by the soft hum of air conditioning. A halfway-opened doorway greeted them at the top. The name 'Aaron Hotchner' was engraved into a black plaque on the door.

     A small muscle pulled at the corners of her mouth, and Carson took a deep, centering breath. It was the same one she routinely took before delivering an opening statement in court.

     Her mind was already categorizing and organizing the information they needed to share, preparing her arguments as if for a high-stakes trial. This wasn't a courtroom, but the stakes were just as high—if not higher.

     Behind her, Parker held the same confident stance her mom did. It wasn't as foolproof and believable, but she was determined to be strong and confident. This was important.

     Carson knocked on the door, three sharp raps—confident, assertive, demanding attention.

     "Come in," came a muffled voice from inside.

     Opening the door, her movements were smooth and deliberate. She stepped into the small office and quickly scanned the room, taking in every detail she could. It was a habit honed by years of looking for the smallest advantages in negotiation rooms and courthouses.

     Hotch was seated behind a desk, head bent over a file. The office was neat and organized, with law books lining the shelves and case files stacked precisely on the desk. The blinds were partially closed, casting slanted shadows across the space.

     "Were you able to get the case file, Garcia?" Hotch asked without looking up, scribbling something down.

     Carson's lips quirked into a small, wry smile. "Garcia? That's a new one," she said, her tone carrying a touch of amusement.

     Immediately, Hotch's head snapped up and surprise flickered across his usually stoic features. "Ms. Crest," he said, quickly standing. "I'm sorry, I thought you were our technical analyst."

     "Clearly," she teased, taking a step further into the office. Her eyes swept the room once more, this time more openly. "Nice place you've got here. Very... federal."

     Hotch moved around his desk, his expression now holding a degree of relief, perhaps? "Well, it's not much, but it's home," he joked, a hint of warmth creeping in. He glanced at Parker, who was hovering just inside the doorway. "Who is this?"

     As far as Carson knew, he wasn't aware she had a daughter.

     Peering over her shoulder, Carson motioned for Parker to come in. "This is my daughter, Parker. Parks, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner. He's—"

     "—the Unit Chief of the BAU," Parker interrupted, reaching her mom's side. Carson almost snorted at her daughter's barely controlled excitement. Parker offered her hand out to him with a confidence that mirrored Carson's. "It's nice to meet you, Agent Hotchner."

     Hotch shook her hand, his expression softening. "It's nice to meet you too, Parker. Please, both of you, come in and have a seat."

     As they settled into the chairs across from Hotch's desk, he closed the office door. "It's good to see you, Carson," he said, warmer than before. He rounded his desk and sat back down in his chair.

     Carson's lips curved into a small, genuine smile—the first since entering the building. "It's good to see you too, Hotch," she replied, her tone losing some of its earlier formality. She sat with her legs crossed and leaned back, projecting an air of control.

     Darting her stare between the two adults, Parker suppressed the urge to smirk. She mirrored her mom's poise.

     "Melanie informed me that you've been trying to reach me," Carson mentioned, her tone businesslike. "I apologize for the difficulty. I took some time off to be with Parker during her spring break."

     Hotch nodded, his dark eyes studying her intently. "I understand, and I'm sorry for interrupting your spring break," he apologized to Parker. She smiled, wordlessly reassuring him it was all right. "We, my team and I, have a few questions about—"

     "The family annihilations and our family's connection," Carson interrupted steadily. It wasn't a question. She caught the shock in Hotch's eyes and continued, "The envelope you brought me in February from Jason contained seven case files, one of which concerns our family's murder. Jason was still working on my case despite it being cold and closed. He'd been working on it for years, and I believe I know who the UnSub is."

     The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of Hotch's computer. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a butcher's knife.

     Hotch leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. "Carson, that's a significant claim," he stated, tilting his head. "Can you—"

     Before the question could be finished and Carson could answer, a knock at the door interrupted them. Then, the door opened without warning to reveal David Rossi standing there.

     "Aaron, I found the—" Rossi stopped short when he saw Carson and Parker. His eyes widened in recognition. "Carson..."

     Her body almost tensed imperceptibly. Her lawyer mask was cemented in place; her expression polite yet cold and guarded. "Agent Rossi," she acknowledged, elegantly getting to her feet.

     The mood in the room deviated, crackling with unspoken history and tension. Parker glanced between the adults with curiosity and worry. She knew how her mom felt toward David Rossi.

     Clearing his throat, Hotch broke the air. He was now standing too. "We have a lot to discuss," he said, his gaze moving from Carson to Rossi and back again. "Perhaps we should move this to the conference room and bring in the rest of the team."

     Nobody appeared to hear him.

     The tension was noticeable as Carson and Rossi kept their eyes locked. Hotch noticed the subtle shift in Parker's posture from where she sat—her shoulders squared and chin lifted slightly, a gesture he recognized from countless interrogations as a defensive stance. It was almost a replica of the way her mom naturally carried herself.

     Evidently, neither Carson nor Parker were Rossi's biggest fans.

     "I didn't expect to see you here," Carson said, her tone unperturbed and measured. She knew he'd joined the team, but not if he'd stayed.

     Rossi's face softened, and a combination of surprise and something akin to regret hit him. "Carson, it's been a long time. You look... well."

     Hotch, sensing the need to diffuse the situation, stepped in. "As I was saying, I think we should move this to the conference room. Carson brought us some potentially crucial information regarding a series of cases."

     This news made Rossi snap out of his shock. "Cases? Plural?"

     Nodding, Carson's professional demeanor remained intact. "Yes. Seven, to be exact. Including my family's."

     A heavy silence fell over the group. Rossi paled, and he exchanged a look with Hotch.

     "Carson, what exactly did Gideon give you? You mentioned case files..." Hotch focused his attention on her. This was something he failed to ask earlier.

     Carson was unphased by the questions and shock. "It's a long story, Hotch," she said, meeting his gaze. "One I think your entire team needs to hear. I'd rather not rehash it multiple times."

     "Fair enough, and agreed." Hotch nodded, his decision made. "Dave, can you gather the team in the conference room? I'll escort Carson and Parker there myself."

     "You got it."

     Once Rossi left to gather the rest of the team, Hotch turned to Carson and Parker. "Before we join the others, I need to ask—do you want Parker involved in this? The details we'll be discussing... they won't be pleasant. She's more than welcome to stay here in my office."

     The inquiry made Parker reach out and grab her mom's hand. She squeezed, affirming that she wanted to be part of this. Carson returned the gesture. "Parker's already familiar with everything. She's the one who noticed the patterns in the cases Jason was tracking and convinced me to read them."

     Hotch's brows raised, impressed. He looked at Parker with newfound respect. "Is that so?"

     A sensation of fulfillment swirled in Parker's chest, and she stood taller. "Yes, sir," she answered with a grin. "I created a map and timeline for each murder, noting the similarities, patterns, and connections to our family's case. I have everything with me in my backpack."

     Blinking, Hotch glanced at Carson. "Well then," he breathed, a little taken aback. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It seems we have two Crests to thank for this breakthrough." The comment earned a set of small smiles. He gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

     Carson nodded and motioned for Parker to pass by her and exit first. The bustle of the bullpen welcomed them when they all stepped into the narrow hallway. Agents moved purposefully between desks, phones rang intermittently, and the low hum of conversations reverberated.

     "So, Parker," Hotch said, leading them past Rossi's office and to the right. His tone was conversational with an undercurrent of assessment. "You were the one who noticed the patterns in these seven cases. That's quite impressive."

     At the recognition, Parker's eyes lit up. Pride and scarcely contained nervous energy colored her response. "Thank you, sir. It was mostly just connecting the dots. Mom always says the devil's in the details."

     Carson couldn't help but smile, squeezing Parker's shoulder gently. "And she's absolutely right about that."

     As they approached the conference room, Hotch paused and spun around. His expression was serious, his dark eyes solemn. "Before we go in, I want you both to understand something. What we're about to discuss... it might change things. Are either of you prepared for that?"

     Never the one to back down from a challenge, Carson's jaw set. Determination blazed in her unflinching eyes. "We wouldn't be here if we weren't."

     Parker nodded in agreement, straightening her posture to echo her mom's.

     Studying them both for a moment, Hotch believed them. "All right then. After you." He pushed open the door to the conference room, revealing the assembled BAU team. The room fell silent as Carson and Parker entered, all heads turning to the newcomers.

     The atmosphere shifted palpably. A few people's eyes widened in surprise, not expecting Carson or Parker to be there. Just hours ago, they were discussing how difficult it'd been to contact and locate her.

     "Everyone," Hotch announced, his voice carrying easily through the space, "this is Carson Crest and her daughter, Parker. They have some information relevant to our current case and potentially several others."

     Current case?

     Eyebrows pinching together, Parker briefly glanced at him.

     Carson's eyes swept the room, taking in each face with the sharp assessment of a seasoned lawyer. Out of the group, she recognized everyone minus a short-haired brunette woman who nodded at her in greeting. Jason had shown her numerous pictures of the team over the years. The only ones missing were Emily Prentiss and Penelope Garcia. She assumed Prentiss left seeing that Hotch mentioned Garcia earlier.

     For Parker, of course, she recognized David Rossi, but the others were new to her. A muscular African American man stood with his arms crossed, his expression curious yet guarded, similar to how she often was. Beside him, a slender young man with tousled, curly brown hair fidgeted slightly. A blonde woman offered a warm smile, while another short-haired brunette woman nodded again.

     "Carson, Parker," Hotch continued, "this is my team. SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, SSA Jennifer Jareau, and SSA Kate Callahan. And of course, you know Dave." He pointed to each agent.

     Rossi nodded from his position near the evidence boards, his countenance unreadable.

     The first one to step forward was Derek Morgan, and he extended a hand. "Carson Crest," he said with a degree of admiration. "It's good to meet you. Your reputation precedes you. I've heard you're a force to reckon with in court."

     A ghost of a smile danced on Carson's lips. "Indeed, I am," she replied, shaking his hand firmly. He noted her strong grip and direct eye contact. "It's good to meet you, Agent Morgan."

     Reid, unable to contain his intrigue, interjected. "I read your published articles on corporate law last night. Your analysis of the antitrust implications in the tech sector from 2013 was fascinating."

     Raising an eyebrow a half-inch, she was pleasantly surprised. However, she expected nothing less from the way Jason used to talk about Spencer Reid. "Thank you, Dr. Reid. It's not often I meet someone outside the legal field who's read that paper."

     JJ and Kate shared a glance, both noticing how Carson carried herself. There was something reminiscent of Hotch in her demeanor—controlled, professional, but with an underlying intensity.

     "You can call me 'JJ'. It's a pleasure to meet you both," JJ said warmly, her eyes moving among Carson and Parker.

     "Welcome to the BAU," Kate chimed in, giving the pair a kind smile.

     "Thank you, JJ, Agent Callahan," Carson said, "It's a pleasure to meet all of you."

     Clearing his throat, Hotch smoothed out his tie. "Why don't we all take a seat? We have a lot to discuss."

     The team members moved to their usual spots, a well-choreographed dance born from years of working together. Hotch took his place at the head of the table, his back to the window. To his left, Rossi settled into his chair, silently observing Carson and Parker.

     Morgan claimed the seat next to Rossi, and Reid slipped into the chair on his left. Reid was already fidgeting with a pen he'd grabbed from the table. Kate sat next to him and then JJ.

     Offering the Crests a reassuring smile, JJ gestured to the two empty chairs on her left. "Ms. Crest, Parker, why don't you join me over here?" Her tone was friendly and inviting, relieving some of the tension that'd been building in the room.

     Carson nodded and guided Parker with a gentle hand on her back. They made their way around the table, Carson's heels clicking on the floor. As they settled into the seats, she couldn't help but notice how the arrangement mirrored a courtroom setup, with the team arrayed before them like a jury.

     She took the chair closest to JJ, not wanting to put her daughter in a potentially uncomfortable position. Sitting with a perfectly straight posture, she placed her shiny black work bag against the chair's legs. Parker sat on her left, posture also straight but with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, betraying her nervousness.

     There was one empty chair left between Parker and Hotch. The team's eyes occasionally flickered to this space, a silent acknowledgment of a missing member.

     For a moment, it was quiet. It was the kind of hush that fell before a storm. The air felt charged with anticipation, each person acutely aware that they were on the brink of something significant considering Carson and Parker's unexpected arrival.

     Hotch opened his mouth to talk, but before he could, the door burst open, heralding Garcia's arrival. Parker almost jumped, startled.

     A flurry of color and energy flooded the conference room. Garcia rushed in with her arms full of folders, a tablet, and her laptop. A pencil was precariously perched behind her ear.

     "I'm so sorry I'm late! I was elbow-deep in some seriously encrypted files and on hold with West Linn PD. I lost track of time and—" Garcia's rapid-fire apology came to an abrupt halt as her eyes, magnified by her hot pink cat-eye-shaped glasses, landed on Carson and Parker. Her jaw dropped, and the pencil clattered to the floor.

     "Oh. My. God," she breathed, her gaze darting between Carson and the team. "This is... You're Carson Crest. THE Carson Crest. Junior partner at Gallagher & Lang, graduated summa cum laude from NYU with a trilogy of degrees, top of her class at Harvard Law. You're like... the Hermione Granger of corporate law!"

     Taken aback by the colorful whirlwind that was Penelope Garcia, Carson blinked. Every descriptor Jason ever gave of Garcia rang true. A small, amused smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you. Though I'm not certain about the Hermione comparison."

     Garcia, realizing she was still standing and gaping, deposited her armful of tech onto the table and extended a hand adorned with sparkly rings. "Penelope Garcia, tech goddess of the BAU at your service. I am such a huge fan of your work. I was reading about you all last night." At the confession, Morgan closed his eyes and shook his head. "Your takedown of the Williamsburg and Blackwood insider trading ring and intellectual property suit last year was the stuff of legends!"

     This was the first time Parker had encountered an adult who carried the same magnetic, youthful energy she did. She liked her already.

     As Carson firmly shook her hand, Garcia's attention shifted to Parker. "And you must be Parker! Oh my gosh, you look just like your mom! Well, not exactly like her because, you know, genetics and all that, but there's definitely a resemblance in the eyes and smile—"

     "Garcia," Hotch interrupted gently, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Why don't you take a seat? We were about to get started."

     "Right, yes, of course," Garcia said, flustered. She plopped down in the last empty chair, her hot pink and green dress flowing around her. "Sorry, I just... wow. I was not expecting this. We were just talking about you two this morning."

     Parker couldn't help but grin at Garcia's enthusiasm. "I like your dress," she offered, causing her to beam.

     "Oh, thank you!" Garcia breathed, taking in the teen's appearance. "I like your... well, everything. Your whole vibe and that outfit? Girl, where did you get those adorable jeans?!"

     Clearing his throat, Hotch repeated, "Garcia?"

     Snapping her head to the left, Garcia's eyes widened. "Right, right. Sorry. Shutting up now."

     The tension had noticeably lightened with her entrance. Even Rossi couldn't suppress a small smile at her antics.

     "So Hotch mentioned that you have some information relevant to our current case and potentially several others?" Kate mentioned, taking the initiative to start the conversation.

     Brushing her hair over her shoulders, Carson nodded. "Yes. I was unaware your team's working on a case. Given everyone's reactions, though, I assume it's linked to the recurring family annihilations."

     "I'm sorry, recurring?" JJ asked, sitting up.

     Before Carson could respond, Parker leaned forward slightly. "Seven cases predating the one you're working on, to be exact," she said smoothly despite the nerves her mom could sense beneath the surface. "That's including our family's case in '84. We believe these cases are connected and the same UnSub is committing these murders."

     A hush fell over the group.

     Reid rested his elbows on the table, his interest undoubtedly piqued. "Seven other cases?"

     Carson placed a supportive hand on Parker's leg under the table. "Perhaps we should start at the beginning," she suggested, looking to Hotch for confirmation.

     Hotch nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think that would be best. Parker, Ms. Crest, the floor is yours."

     Leaning over her chair, Parker grabbed her backpack and placed it in her lap. She unzipped the largest section and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of poster paper and dozens of files. Before leaving West Linn, she and her mom stopped by the public library and made copies of all the original case files Mr. Gideon left behind aside from the original Crest file.

     At the sight, Morgan, Rossi, and JJ's brows rose.

     "I have some visual aids that will help explain what's going on and why we're here," she said, looking up. "Is there somewhere I can put this map and timeline?"

     Reid's eyes lit up with interest. "Yes! Here, let me help," he offered, pushing out of his chair and moving to the evidence boards. He flipped one over, revealing a blank slate. "This should work perfectly."

     The stack of files was placed on the table and her backpack was in her mom's lap. Parker stood up and joined him at the evidence board. Together, they worked to pin up the map and timeline. The rest of the team watched with growing curiosity while Carson watched proudly.

     Since it was her daughter who caught the pattern and got Carson involved in the first place, she wanted her to be the one to present to the BAU. It was her hard work and persuasion that ultimately brought them there. She deserved all the credit.

     Once the visual aids were in place, Parker turned back to the group. Reid had returned to his seat. "I've also made copies of six of the files for everyone," she said, distributing the folders around the table. "I thought it might be helpful to follow along."

     Morgan raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You've really done your homework, kid."

     Parker nodded, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you. I wanted to ensure we could present everything clearly and factually."

     As the team opened the folders, Parker took her place at the front of the room, next to the map. Carson stared at her daughter, ready to step in if needed but more than confident in Parker's ability to lead this presentation.

     "Okay," Parker began, ignoring the slight tremor in her hands. "It all started when we received an envelope from Mr. Gideon in February. Agent Hotchner delivered it to my mom at Gallagher & Lang. Inside were a letter and seven case files, including Mr. Gideon's personal file and notes on the Crest family murders. Our family."

     She pointed to the map, where seven red pins were placed in various locations across the United States. "These represent the locations of each family annihilation. As you can see, they span from Oregon to New York, covering a period from 1984 to 2010."

     Reid leaned forward, his eyes darting between the map and the files in front of him. "The geographical spread is significant. It suggests our UnSub is highly mobile and comfortable operating in different regions."

     Parker nodded. "Exactly. And there's more. Each case follows a similar pattern: a family of four, parents, always a mom and dad, and two children, always a son and daughter, with the youngest child always being a girl aged either four or seven."

     "And in each case," JJ paled slightly, "the young girl is the sole survivor?"

     "Yes," Parker confirmed, her tone and face softening. "Just like my mom was."

     The space fell quiet for a second. Carson blinked. She didn't feel one way or another toward the statement and well-established fact.

     Rossi broke the silence, his voice gruff with emotion. "I remember your case, Carson. But I had no idea there were others with such similar circumstances."

     "Neither did I," she replied, finally meeting his stare, "until we received Jason's files. He'd been tracking these cases for years, seeing connections no one else had made."

     "Did you know he was still working on your family's case?" he asked, brows forming a jagged line.

     Carson didn't move or physically react. "Yes, I did," she said, keeping herself from making a resentful comment. "I didn't know he'd found similar cases until his passing."

     "And you said there are seven cases, including your family's?" Hotch asked, guiding the conversation back to the topic on hand. "Can you walk us through them chronologically?"

     Parker nodded, turning to the timeline. "The first case was in West Linn, Oregon, in 1984—that's our family. Then we have cases in Amherst, Massachusetts in 1999, Albany, New York in 2002, Princeton, New Jersey in 2003, Buffalo, New York in 2004, Boise, Idaho in 2006, and finally, Portland, Oregon in 2010."

     "Wait a minute," Morgan interjected. He looked up from his file, brow furrowed in concentration. His dark eyes locked onto Carson, a mix of realization and concern etched across his features. "These dates... they correspond with significant events in your life, don't they, Ms. Crest?"

     All eyes turned to Carson. She sat perfectly still, her lawyer's composure firmly in place, but those who looked closely might notice the slight tightening of her jaw.

     "Yes," Carson confirmed with an undercurrent of tension. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, the soft rustle of fabric loud in the muted room. "Each family murder and its date of occurrence coincides with a major milestone in my life."

     She paused, taking a measured breath before continuing. Her eyes met each team member's. "Starting law school at Harvard in 1999. Graduating and moving to New York for my first clerkship in 2002. Another clerkship in New Jersey in 2003." Parker pointed to the timeline sheet next to the map. "Landing my associate position at Gallagher & Lang, New York in 2004. And adopting Parker in 2010. The family murder in Idaho in 2006 is the only one that doesn't correlate to a significant moment in my life."

     The implications of this revelation hung heavy, almost palpable in its intensity. A silent conversation passed among the team as pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.

     Reid's fingers drummed rapidly on the table. "The UnSub isn't just copying the original crime," he mused aloud, his words tight with realization. "They're fixated on you, Ms. Crest. Your life events are triggering the killings."

     "Yes," Carson said plainly, unbothered by the bluntness. "As of now, it appears that way."

     Rossi leaned back in his chair, his expression grave. The creases around his eyes deepened as he considered the implications. "This isn't just about recreating a crime. This is personal. Very personal."

     Studying the lawyer, Hotch upturned his chin. "Have you noticed anything suspicious over the years? Anyone paying too much attention to your life events?"

     Carson shook her head. "No, nothing aside from opposing counsel in court. I've meticulously protected my privacy, especially after adopting Parker."

     Parker, standing by the evidence board, glanced at her mom. She cleared her throat, drawing the team's attention back to her. "There's more," she said, interlacing her fingers. "All the family annihilations Mr. Gideon linked to the Crest case occurred in homes with similar geographical features—relative isolation, proximity to wooded areas, and nearby bodies of water. Also, in each case," she continued, looking from face to face, seeking understanding, "the UnSub seems to target families that appear perfect on the surface—successful, well-liked, and well-respected—but are hiding secrets and deep-seated issues."

     Kate glimpsed away from the file in front of her. "Secrets? What kind of secrets are we talking about?"

     Hesitating, Parker glanced at her mom again. Carson gave her a slight nod, signaling she would answer this.

     "In our family's case," Carson said, meeting Kate's eyes, "it was abuse. Malcolm, my brother, and I were being abused by my parents, hidden behind a facade of religious fervor."

     The words hit the conference room like a physical force. Even though the team knew about the abuse from their earlier briefing, hearing it directly from Carson, spoken with such clarity and directness, brought a new level of reality to the situation.

     JJ, Garcia, and Kate's eyes filled with sympathy, and Reid frowned. Morgan's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

     Rossi, in particular, seemed affected by Carson's words. His stare, usually sharp and analytical, now held sadness and something close to guilt. He remembered the young seven-year-old Carson Crest, frightened, tired, burdened, and confused, never able to put a name to what was happening to her. Never able to understand why her parents' version of love was bad. Now, hearing her as an adult, calmly labeling it as abuse, stirred complex emotions in him.

     "Carson," Rossi started roughly, "I... I'm sorry. Back then, I..."

     Carson met his sorrowful countenance, her expression softening slightly. "Thank you," she breathed, taking in the genuine regret he wore. "And I know, Agent Rossi. Everyone had different priorities back then."

     That was the most she would speak on the matter in front of the BAU team. It wasn't fair to them to go further than that and it wasn't professional of her.          

     "And in the other cases?" Hotch prompted gently, his gaze lingering on Carson for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

     Parker returned to the timeline. "It varies. Financial troubles, marital problems, hidden addictions... Let's start with the first case," she said, shooting her mom a grateful smile when she passed her Gideon's original copy. She opened the thick file and sifted through the papers.

     This was the only one the team didn't have a copy of, so everyone prepared to take notes. It was important since they didn't have the file from West Linn PD and didn't know Rossi had located his original file.

     "West Linn, Oregon, October 30th, 1984. The Crest family." Her eyes flickered briefly to her mom before resuming. "Victims were Cyrus Crest, 38, Mary Crest, 36, and Malcolm Crest, 7. The sole survivor was Carson Crest, also 7 at the time." The weight of what she was sharing was finally hitting her. She'd spent weeks poring over these files, but standing here, presenting to the F.B.I.'s BAU team, the one Mr. Gideon had been part of, made it all feel more real.

     Reid's pen scratched rapidly across his notepad, his brows furrowed in concentration.

     "The family was found in their home. Cyrus and Mary were discovered in the prayer room, positioned opposite each other, leaning against the walls. Multiple stab wounds, defensive cuts on the arms along with long, deep lines. Each held a Bible and Mary also held a knife. Died from a stab to the heart."

     Reid's head shot up, and JJ's hand almost flew to her mouth. Kate frowned deeply and swallowed hard. Morgan's fist tightened on the table. Hotch's facial features relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with sympathy as they moved from Parker to Carson.

     "Malcolm was found in the foyer with a single stab wound to the heart and nearly every bone in his arms and legs were broken. Carson was found..." Parker's voice wavered and her vision blurred, yet she kept reading, "in the foyer as well, physically unharmed but in a state of shock and holding Malcolm."

     The room was deathly still. The weight of the tragedy took up every available space. Carson's jaw tightened imperceptibly, her line of sight fixed on a point in the distance, but those who looked closely might spot the subtle tremor in her left hand.

     Garcia, usually bubbly and talkative, sat in stunned silence with tears obscuring her vision. Kate reached around JJ, placing a comforting hand on Carson's arm, her touch gentle and sympathetic.

     Rossi's face was a mask of controlled emotion, but his eyes betrayed a deep sadness and regret. He'd been there, had seen the aftermath firsthand, and hearing it described so clinically after thirty-one years brought those memories rushing back.

     "Carson," Hotch said softly, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was gentle, unlike his usual authoritative tone. "I know this must be incredibly difficult for you. If you need a moment..."

     Shaking her head, Carson's lawyer composure locked into place. "I'm all right, Hotch. Parks, let's continue," she encouraged, giving her daughter a reassuring smile.

     Parker nodded, returning the smile. There would be time to hug it out later, and she knew the last thing her mom wanted was to show vulnerability in front of a bunch of strangers.

     "The hidden issue, as stated earlier, was severe physical and emotional abuse, masked by religious devotion. Moving on to the second case," Parker pointed to the next pin on the map. She closed the Crest file and spoke from memory now. "Amherst, Massachusetts, August 15th, 1999. The Sawyer family. Robert Sawyer, 40, Ashley Sawyer, 42, and Scott Sawyer, 10, were found dead in their home. Emily Sawyer, 7, survived.

     "The victims were found in the living room and foyer, positioned similarly to the Crest case. However, this time, there were no broken bones present as an injury. That applies to the rest of the cases going forward. Robert and Ashley were discovered in the dining room on the floor, positioned across from each other—multiple stab wounds to the chest with Robert having defensive wounds on his arms. Scott was found at the bottom of the stairs, a single stab wound to the heart. Emily was found hiding in a closet, physically unharmed but in a state of shock.

     "The hidden issue here was financial trouble. Robert Sawyer had recently lost his job and was in major debt, but the family maintained a facade of success. Emily's statement mentioned hearing arguments about money in the weeks leading up to the murders."

     Hotch nodded, his pen traveling across his notepad. This UnSub was punishing families for having secrets/hidden issues. That was a consistent theme thus far, but why?

     "The third case," Parker continued, "Albany, New York, June 3rd, 2002. The Delaney family. Paul Delaney, 45, Sophia Delaney, 43, and Ryan Delaney, 12, were killed. Lily Delaney, 4, survived."

     Garcia's fingers flew across her keyboard, putting additional information on her screens.

     "Paul and Sophia were found in the dining room, positioned on opposite sides again. Multiple stab wounds to the chest. Ryan was discovered in the foyer, a single stab wound to the heart. Lily was found hiding in a closet, clutching a stuffed rabbit. The family secret here was marital discord. Paul Delaney had been having an affair with the babysitter, and Sophia had just discovered it."

     Moving to the next pin, Parker cleared her throat. "Fourth case: Princeton, New Jersey, June 17th, 2003. The Knight family. Jonathan Knight, 38, Maria Knight, 36, and Brandon Knight, 9, were killed. Natalie Knight, 7, survived. Jonathan and Maria were found in the dining room with multiple stab sounds. Brandon in the foyer, died from a single stab wound to the heart. Natalie was found wandering the street in her bloodied pajamas at dawn. The family's secret was Maria's gambling addiction, which had put them in significant debt.

     "Buffalo, New York, August 22nd, 2004. The Elliot family. Jacob Elliot, 41, Katherine Elliot, 39, and Patrick Elliot, 9, were killed. Jessica Elliot, 7, survived. Bodies were all found in the same places: the dining room and foyer with the same injuries as the other victims. Jessica was found hiding in the attic. The family secret here was substance abuse. Both parents were functioning alcoholics, maintaining a perfect image while struggling with addiction.

     "The sixth case," Parker breathed, "Boise, Idaho, February 7th, 2006. The Morrison family. Juan Morrison, 44, Rayna Morrison, 44, and Dalton Morrison, 11, were killed. Zaria Morrison, 4, survived."

     Reid's eyes darted between his notes and the map, already adjusting his geographical profile.

     "Bodies were found the same way. Zaria was found in her bedroom closet. The family secret in this case was child abuse. There was evidence that Dalton had been physically abused, though Zaria showed no signs of mistreatment."

     Carson's hand tightened on her armrest, but she preserved her controlled composure.

     "And finally," Parker said, more than ready to drink some water when this was over, "the most recent case Mr. Gideon found. Portland, Oregon, December 19th, 2010. The Solik family. Gregory Solik, 39, Jinny Solik, 41, and Anthony Solik, 8, were killed. Allie Solik, 7, survived."

     She took a deep breath before concluding. "Gregory and Jinny were found in the dining room, Anthony in the foyer. Allie was found hiding under her parents' bed. The family secret here was financial fraud. Gregory Solik had been embezzling from his company for years."

     As Parker finished, the room fell into a lulled silence. The team shared looks, each processing the enormity of what they'd just heard. Seven families, seven tragedies, all connected by a single, shadowy figure who'd eluded justice for decades.

     Retrieving a bottle of water from her purse, Carson passed it to Parker, who smiled gratefully. In less than ten seconds, she downed half the bottle.

     The soft hum of the air conditioning felt oppressive in the silence that followed. Hotch scanned the faces of his team, noting the presence of horror, resolution, and materializing anger.

     Kate was the first to say anything. "These poor families... and the children who survived. The trauma they endured..." She trailed off, her gaze meeting Carson's with a mix of sympathy and admiration.

     "The level of planning, the consistency across decades..." Morgan's frame was tense, fists clenched, "this UnSub is patient, meticulous. And they've managed to stay off the radar all this time."

     Reid nodded, staring at Parker's map again. "The geographical spread is significant. They're comfortable operating across state lines, which suggests a high level of intelligence and resources."

     Looking at Carson, Rossi's eyes swept up and down her unchanged figure. "How are you holding up?"

     Carson's posture remained impeccable, but it didn't take being a profiler to know she was mentally reeling. "I'm fine. What matters now is catching this UnSub before they can hurt anyone else."

     Hotch nodded, tempted to frown at her rigid stance. "Ms. Crest's right. We need to adjust our profile with this new knowledge and identify this UnSub." He paused, ensuring everyone was listening. "Which brings me to something Ms. Crest mentioned in my office. You believe you know who the UnSub might be?"

     All movement and noise stopped. Every agent looked to Carson and Parker, frozen. The tension was tangible, like electricity crackling just beneath the surface.

     Squaring back her shoulders, Carson nodded. "Yes. Based on the information in Jason's files and recent events, we have a strong suspicion about the UnSub's identity."

     Parker nodded, sitting in the chair next to her mom. They were in this together—a united front against the horrors they were unveiling.

     "Well, don't keep us in suspense," Garcia teased, her cheerful tone subdued by anticipation. "Who do you think it is?"

     Carson took a deep breath, her eyes meeting each team member's in turn before landing on Hotch. "We believe the UnSub is my adoptive mom, Olivia Hart."

     Again, all movement came to a stop. Time seemed to stand still and people appeared to hold their breath. Nobody knew what they were expecting her answer to be, but certainly not that.

     Only one person wasn't phased—Rossi. He leaned back in his chair, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His chest swirled with vindication and old pain.

     Hotch's expression remained neutral but he squinted slightly. "That's a significant accusation, Ms. Crest. What evidence do you have to support this?"

     Before she could answer, someone else did.

     "I'll be damned," he said, low and gravelly. "After all these years, someone's finally listening."

     A stunned silence took control of the conference room. Each team member reacted in their own unique way to Rossi's loaded statement.

     Morgan's brows shot up and he looked between Rossi and Carson, sensing the unresolved tension. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, deciding to observe for now.

     Reid's fingers, which had been fidgeting with a pen, suddenly stilled. His brow furrowed deeply, his mind trying to connect Rossi's passive-aggressive comment with everything they'd learned. He glanced at his notepad as if the answer might be hidden in his hastily scribbled notes.

     JJ's hand moved unconsciously to her necklace, her blue eyes widening with surprise. She shot a quick, worried glance at Hotch, silently questioning if someone should step in before Carson responded.

     Kate leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms to brace herself for what was to come. She didn't know all of the history between the two, similar to everyone else, and wasn't sure she wanted to.

     Garcia's brightly painted nails hesitated over her keyboard, mouth formed into the shape of an 'O'.

     And lastly, Hotch's reaction was the most subtle, but to those who knew him well, the most telling. His eyes narrowed a centimeter, the corners of his lips tightening. He sat up straighter, if that was possible, his entire demeanor shifting from listening mode to full alert.

     The comment made Parker visibly tense and her head reeled back an inch, appalled. Quickly, she placed a defensive hand on her mom's shoulder.

     As for Carson, her lawyer's mask lowered for just a moment, revealing a flash of pain and anger before her professional demeanor snapped back into place.

     "Agent Rossi," she began, her voice cool and measured, "I understand you had suspicions about my mom in the past. However, as I'm sure you recall, there was insufficient evidence to support your claims at the time."

     "Insufficient evidence?" Rossi echoed, resting his elbows on the table. "Carson, I had years of behavioral analysis backing me up, but no one would listen. Not Detective Reeves, the local PD, not the Bureau, not even Gideon."

     "Behavioral analysis isn't admissible in court, Rossi, and not sufficient enough to obtain an arrest or search warrant," Carson countered, her tone professional with an undercurrent of frustration. It was taking everything to keep her personal feelings out of this. "You know that. The investigation needed concrete proof, which you didn't have."

     "And Gideon," Rossi continued, his voice rising slightly, "he was so focused on keeping you safe, being your protector, on making you feel heard, that he couldn't fully see what was right in front of him."

     Carson's eyebrow arched; her courtroom demeanor was present now. "Are you suggesting that Jason's concern for my well-being somehow impeded the investigation? Because I'd argue that ensuring the mental health of a traumatized child witness should have been a priority."

     Not to mention, Jason always suspected Olivia. However, he understood the importance of due process and wanted to get it right.

     The rest of the team watched this exchange with fascination and concern. Hotch inhaled deeply, sensing there was more to this story than he'd been told.

     "Guys," Morgan interjected, trying to diffuse the conversation. "Maybe we should focus on the present. What's important now is the new evidence and cases we have."

     Neither responded to him. Both sides of the argument were locked in the verbal sparring match.

     "I was trying to protect you, Carson," Rossi said gentler now but no less intense. "I saw the signs, the way Olivia controlled your every move and sentence during the investigation, who you spoke to. It wasn't healthy."

     Carson's response was calculated, her lawyer's training evident in every word. "Your intentions may have been good, Agent Rossi, but your approach was flawed. Accusing my legal guardian at the time without solid evidence wasn't protection—it was an attack on the only stability I had left."

     "No—"

     "Dave, that's enough," Hotch cut him off, lifting a hand. His voice had taken on its authoritative tone and he gave the man a look, silently telling him to back off. "Obviously, there's a complex history here that needs to be addressed, but it can happen at a later time. Right now, our top priority is the current case and its connection to the other seven. Ms. Crest, Parker, I'd like you to present all the reasoning and evidence you have that points to Olivia. Rossi, I want a detailed account of your suspicions from years ago, and why you believe they're relevant now."

     Both parties nodded, letting go of the dispute for now.

     Bringing the final file and map out of her backpack, Parker glanced at the name on it. The thick folder was labeled "Olivia Hart." She passed it to her mom.

     Melanie had flown into Virginia this morning and met Carson and Parker at their hotel, giving them the file. Currently, Melanie was at the hotel and waiting for them to return. Then, they would plan their next moves from there.

     "Before we begin, I want to make it clear that what we're about to present is a combination of hard evidence, circumstantial connections, and well-founded suspicions." With their perfectly manicured nails, Carson's fingers tapped lightly on the file. "Some of this information may seem speculative at first glance, but I assure you, it's all admissible and relevant to the case at hand."

     Hotch nodded, the pinch between his brows deepening. "Understood. Please continue."

     The team leaned in, the creaking of their chairs unnaturally loud. Carson opened the file, the crisp sound of paper cutting through the air as she spread out several documents. The scent of fresh ink mingled with the lingering aroma of coffee.

     "In the last eighteen hours," she resumed, clipped and professional, "my colleagues at Gallagher & Lang—specifically my secretary Melanie Wells, Senior Partner Austin Greenwood, and Managing Partner Freya Lang—have compiled this comprehensive file on Olivia Hart."

     "What exactly does this file contain?" Morgan asked, briefly scanning the documents. He didn't say it out loud, but he was impressed that her colleagues were able to compile this information legally unlike how Garcia would have obtained some of it illegally.

     "Travel receipts, documented trips, financial records, property ownership documents, and communication logs. We've cross-referenced these with the dates and locations of each murder."

     Parker unrolled the medium-sized map in her hands with a swish and held it up for everyone to see. There were gold and red star stickers on it. "The red stars represent Grandma Olivia's documented trips over the past three decades," she explained, peeking her head around the map so they could see her. "The gold stars are the murder locations."

     The team's eyes widened as they took in the map. The overlap was undeniable and the pattern was unmistakable.

     "This is circumstantial," Carson admitted, "but it establishes a pattern of presence that any prosecutor would find compelling."

     Kate leaned forward, her chair creaking again. "What about the financial records?"

     Carson nodded to Parker, who pulled out a stack of bank statements with practiced ease from the file. The rustle of paper almost underscored the gravity of the moment. "We've identified several large cash withdrawals in the days leading up to each murder," Parker explained, beyond proud of her mom and her colleagues. "Each withdrawal ranges from $5,000 to $10,000."

     "Enough to cover travel expenses and potentially purchase supplies without leaving a paper trail," Reid mused.

     "Exactly," Carson confirmed, brushing strands of hair out of her face. "Moreover, we've found evidence of property rentals near each murder location, all under various aliases that we believe Olivia used."

     JJ's brow furrowed, and she looked up from the rental paperwork. "How did you connect these aliases to Olivia?"

     "Good question," Carson replied, a trace of a smile touching her lips. "We traced the payment methods. All rentals were paid for using prepaid credit cards purchased with cash in West Linn, Oregon, where she resides."

     Hotch's expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed his interest, a spark of admiration visible in their depths. "This is impressive work, especially given the time constraint. But I have to ask—what led you to suspect Olivia in the first place?"

     Carson took a deep breath, her composure slipping an inch. The mask of the confident lawyer cracked, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerable woman beneath. "Olivia's fixation on me has always been... intense," she admitted. "At first, I attributed it to her loss—on February 7th, 1981, her husband, daughter, and I got into a car accident. I don't remember the accident and I don't remember Cadence, but allegedly, we were best friends as toddlers.

     "From what I've been told, Avery was driving us home from a ballet he took us to see in the city. There was a storm and one of the windshield wipers broke. A deer ran onto the road and Avery swerved to avoid hitting it. The car crashed into a tree, killing Avery and Cadence. I was the only survivor. Then, three and half years later, I was the only survivor of my family's murder."

     Interesting.

      Correlation doesn't equal causation, but it sure does raise some eyebrows.

     Hotch tilted his head, analyzing her body language. "Are you suggesting Olivia saw you as a replacement for her lost daughter?"

     "There's more," Carson said, not directly confirming or denying his question. "Again, like I stated moments ago, Olivia's fixation on me has always been intense. However, it wasn't just normal, typical maternal concern. It went beyond that. In the beginning, I thought her behavior was warranted. I was the daughter of her best friend, and I'd been best friends with her daughter before the car accident. After everything that had happened to me, I understood why she might be overprotective."

     Her voice took on a harder edge as she continued. "It started small and gradually escalated. She always wanted to know where I was, who I was with. She controlled when I could see friends, have playdates, and when I could speak to Jason. As I got older, she'd make comments about how I couldn't do things on my own, how I needed her for everything, how I owed her, how she couldn't live without me."

     "By the time I went to NYU, it had become suffocating. She got an apartment in the city so I wouldn't have to live in the dorms and would be with her. She'd call multiple times a day while I was out, always finding a reason why she needed to be involved in my life. She couldn't bear the thought of me being independent."

     Rossi sighed, a combination of vindication and regret taking home in his chest. "This is what I saw back then... what I tried to tell everyone."

     Carson nodded, acknowledging his comment. "Sixteen years ago, we had a fight. It wasn't our biggest, but it was the most intense and our final one. Jason had to separate us. For the next eleven years, my mom and I spoke sporadically, but rarely. Then five years ago, I cut all contact for good."

     "What happened five years ago?" Reid asked, genuinely invested in the story of Carson and Olivia.

     Finding her daughter's hand under the table, she squeezed it gently. "I adopted Parker," she said softly, glancing to her left with a small smile. "I didn't want my mom to try and sink her claws into her, to make Parker her new obsession. I went from one abusive household to another as a kid. I refuse to pass that down to my daughter. My mom being present would open the door to that possibility; she doesn't care about boundaries.

     "This past weekend, Parker and I went to West Linn. It was the first time I'd returned since I graduated from NYU. Parker wanted to learn more about where I grew up and see different locations. On Sunday, we went to a diner where my mom and I were regulars when I was a kid. A server recognized me. When I went to the counter to pay..."

     "The server came to get our plates and told me it was good to see Mom back in town after all this time," Parker entered the recounter, placing the map on the round table, "and that we just missed Grandma Olivia. Apparently, Grandma Olivia has been going in and out of town like crazy over the years. She's always talking about visiting Mom and me in New York. The server said it was nice to see the family staying close despite the distance."

     Carson nodded. "And that's impossible because I haven't seen my mom in person since June 1999. Not only that, she does not, to my knowledge, know about Parker. The purpose of cutting all contact was to keep my daughter safe from her. When Parker told me about the interaction, that's when I knew Jason was right and we flew here. He suspected my mom for years, but never had enough evidence to prove it until these cases."

     Parker nodded, too; her curls bouncing with the movement. "Earlier, we shared how we believe each murder coincides with a major event in Mom's life that took her further from Grandma Olivia's control. College, career milestones, my adoption—each step towards independence seems to have triggered something dark in her. Something that's been playing out across the country for decades."

     The conference room was soundless as the team processed everything. The horror of what Carson and Parker were suggesting settled over them like a suffocating toxin.

     After a moment stretching for eternity, Hotch spoke up, his voice grave. "Ms. Crest, given what you've presented and your personal history with Olivia, I have to ask—do you believe Olivia was involved in your family's murder?"

     The question held multiple, potential consequences, especially if answered incorrectly. Carson's stare met Parker's briefly. She drew strength from her daughter's unwavering support before she turned to the team. Her expression was a complex mix of pain, anger, and steely determination.

     "Based on the evidence we've gathered," Carson started, her lawyer's training ever present in her wording, "and considering the pattern of behavior we've established, I have reason to believe Olivia Hart may have been involved in my family's murder and six other similar cases. Furthermore, I suspect she may have used the local legend of the Willamette Wraith as a cover for her actions in West Linn."

     At the unfamiliar title, Kate's brows formed a line. "The what?"

     Morgan's question overshadowed hers, sharp and almost disbelieving. "Wait a minute. You're saying Olivia might have killed your family to... what? To have you to herself?"

     Carson's jaw tightened, the muscle visibly twitching. "That's exactly what I'm saying, Agent Morgan. I believe she's been recreating that night with every subsequent murder, reliving the moment she 'saved' me from my family or lost her daughter. The ages of the sole survivor are always four or seven—how old Cadence was when she died and how old I was when my family was murdered."

     The gravity of the theory and all its backstory sank in. It was compelling. The air thickened and it became harder to breathe. The fluorescent lights buzzed insistently, casting harsh shadows that appeared to worsen with each passing second.

     And at that moment, sitting at the round table with her daughter in the BAU, Carson knew with chilling certainty that the past she'd been running from for so long had finally caught up with her. There was no more running now.

━━━━━━━━┛ ♱ ┗━━━━━━━━

╱ 𝕬UTHOR'S 𝕹OTE. . .

⁰³ 𝕽𝖀𝕴𝕹. . . RUIN !
━━━━━━ ♱ ━━━━━━
written by CARDIIAC © 2024.
破滅 . ݃♱ .

     WELCOME TO VOLUME THREE, EVERYONE!!!!!!

     also known as the beginning of the craziest part of this book. things move very quickly from here on out. hold on. (grab tissues for the next chapter btw xoxo)

     i am so excited (take another shot ;) only if you're of drinking age tho lmao) for this portion of the story. it was so much fun to write!     

     REMINDER: the writing style of this book changes with each volume. volume one was more horror and mystery-based, volume two held more professional and legal themes while this volume is quick, dramatic, horror-influenced, and mystery-based. so any writing changes are intentional!

     i hope you enjoyed chapter nine! and i hope you have a beautiful day!

     thank you for reading <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹. . . ▬⠀⤸

Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to comment on this story. It means a lot and helps the story be spread to a broader audience &&& allows me to grow as an author. All I ask is that people vote on each chapter, please. As a creator, it takes time to write and develop stories. So please, vote on every chapter. It means a lot more than I could ever express.

Don't forget to vote & comment!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

❝ All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods,
without prior permission of the author,
except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and
other noncommercial uses permitted
by copyright law. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━