Chapter 14

The weekend flew by so quickly it felt like a blur. Between quiet moments with JJ, catching up on some much-needed rest, and the lingering memories of Alex’s visit, it was hard to believe it was already Monday. As I sat at my desk, the early morning sun streaming through the blinds, I couldn’t help but replay the past few days’ events.

While finishing some paperwork from the New York case, my office phone rang.

“Agent L/N.”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Miles Tate. We met at the fundraising event for the Hernandez campaign.”

I leaned back in my chair, trying to recall the face to the name. Miles Tate-mid-forties, a sharp dresser with a reputation for being one of the smoothest talkers in the room.

“Miles,” I said, finally recalling. “Of course, I remember. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m the new warden down here in Liberty, Texas. I have two correction officers who are dead. They-“

“Hold on, Miles,” I interrupted, already reaching for the button to transfer the call. “Sorry to cut you off, but this does fall under our jurisdiction. I know my boss would want to hear this directly. Give me one sec to loop him in.”

“Of course,” he replied.

I quickly dialed Hotch’s extension. “Sir, I’ve got Miles Tate on the line. He’s the new warden in Liberty, Texas, and it sounds like he has a situation we may need to step in on.”

“Patch him through,” Hotch replied immediately.

I merged the calls. “All right, Miles, you’re on with SSA Hotchner. You can continue.”

“Agent. Hotchner,” He started, his voice more formal. “As I was telling Y/N, we’ve had two C.O’s die. They were stabbed in the neck and had a sock stuffed in their mouth. Unfortunately, our cameras have been disabled because of inmates during a riot.”

“This could be a retaliation against your administration,” I said.

“In which case it could happen again,” Hotch added. “Let me briefly team, and we will be on our way. If you could release any additional information to us, that would be very helpful.”

“Will do. Thank you both.”

I set the phone down and immediately grabbed my go-bag from the corner of my office, already anticipating the urgency of Hotch’s next orders. He didn’t have to say it—I knew we’d need to be on the plane within the hour.

As I made my way through the bullpen, I saw the team already gathering their things, preparing for the swift departure. There was no time to waste. We were on the clock now.

On the plane, we all took our seats, the hum of the engines filling the silence. Hotch sat at the front, eyes focused on the case file, while the rest of us settled in. Garcia was already pulling up information on her laptop, typing away furiously.

“Okay, people,” I said, breaking the silence. “We’ve got a lot to cover. Mil-“

“Hold up.” Prentiss interrupted, raising an eyebrow as she looked over at me. “Since when do you do our briefings?”

I smirked, glancing over at Hotch. “Well, since this case came to me first, and I know the warden, I figured I’d take the reins for once.” I paused, letting it hang for a second before adding, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you handle the paperwork when we get back.”

Hotch gave me a brief nod of approval, and I could see the small amusement in his eyes as he settled into his seat.

I continued briefing the team, outlining the details we knew so far. “The warden, Miles Tate, has been on the job for only a few months. But with two officers dead, and no immediate suspect or motive, we’re dealing with something more than just a standard attack. It could be an inside job, or there’s a larger play at work.”

I flipped through the files, noting the key points. “We’ll need to start by interviewing the remaining correction officers, see if anyone’s been acting out of the ordinary. And, of course, we’ll be looking into the prison population. No telling if one of them’s been orchestrating something.”

The drive was quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts, mentally preparing for what lay ahead. The vast, open landscape passed by as we made our way toward the correctional facility, the heat of the Texas sun pressing down on everything.

As we pulled up to the gates, the towering walls of the prison loomed ahead, a harsh reminder of the danger that lay inside. The facility was surrounded by high fences, barbed wire, and guard towers, a fortress built to contain people who had nowhere else to go.

We exited the vehicles, and the guards at the gate gave us a quick once-over before allowing us entry. I could feel the tension building as we approached the main building, the hum of the prison’s electricity, the occasional clink of metal from the inside—it all made the air feel heavier.

The warden and another man with him met us outside. Miles walked over and gave me a handshake; as his hand gripped mine, I noticed the familiarity in his touch, the subtle pressure that lingered longer than necessary. It was a sharp reminder of the fundraiser, of the way he had leaned in just a little too close, his words laced with more than just politeness. I hadn’t thought about it much until now, but the memory came rushing back—he had definitely been flirting with me.

I pulled my hand back, maintaining my professional composure despite the little flutter of discomfort in my chest. “Warden,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

The warden gave me a small, almost imperceptible smile, his eyes lingering on me for just a second. “Thank you for coming down so quickly. This is Captain Shavers, head of security. He will be helping with anything you need.”

Captain Shavers gave a curt nod as Hotch introduced the team. His eyes flickered briefly over each of us, sizing us up before his gaze landed back on me, his expression unreadable.

We entered the prison, dropped off our firearms, and headed through security.

“All right,” I said, breaking the silence. “Let’s start with the basics. Where were the bodies found?”

Miles gestured for us to follow him down another corridor. “We’ve secured the crime scene, but the bodies were found in one of the cleaning closets on the east wing. “

“Ok,” Hotch said, scanning the team. “Reid and L/N go to the infirmary and talk with the doctor, Prentiss, and Morgan go look at the closet, and JJ, Rossi and I will interview some people.”

Reid and I stepped into the infirmary, where the air was thick with antiseptic. The doctor on duty—a middle-aged man with graying hair and dark circles under his eyes—looked up from his clipboard as we approached. He seemed frazzled, his fingers drumming nervously against the metal counter.

“Dr. Howard?” I asked, extending a hand. “Agents Y/N and Reid with the BAU.”

He gave a quick nod, shaking my hand briefly before returning to his chart. “Yes, yes. I was told you’d be coming. But I’m afraid I won’t be of much help,” he said, his tone uneasy. “I’m only here a few days a week, filling in when the regular physician is out. I don’t know the staff or inmates well.”

Reid’s brow furrowed. “So you’re saying you can’t provide any insight into the victims or their conditions?”

Howard sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can give you the basics from the preliminary report, but as far as personal details? I’m afraid not.”

Frustrated but trying not to show it, I gestured toward the nearest gurney where the latest victim lay under a sheet. “Let’s start with the physical evidence. Walk us through what you’ve got.”

Howard hesitated, then moved to the body, pulling the sheet back. “There are no defensive wounds, no major trauma visible. But there is one thing that stands out…”

Reid and I both leaned in closer as the doctor pointed to the victim’s hands. “Seven of his fingers are broken—same as the last officer,” he explained, his voice low.

As time passed and the team conducted interviews with the inmates, I decided to shift my focus to the correction officers. It wasn’t just about ruling them out—it was about starting with the group that had the smallest suspect pool and the closest access to the victims. If there was something connecting them, I wanted to find it.

As Reid and I were going through the files, he found that there was a prisoner unaccounted for. Devon White. He just vanished, and we needed to find him. Shavers and the Warden were not able to answer many questions about White, which seemed odd.

As we were talking Shaver radio went off, “There’s been another murder.”

My blood started boiling. Either the killer was bold enough to strike again while we were here, or something was deeply wrong with the security protocols in this prison.

“Where?” I asked sharply, already heading out the door.

“Showers,” the voice replied.

Shavers muttered a curse under his breath and motioned for us to follow. “Follow me.”

Reid and I followed Shavers to the showers, where the scene was already cordoned off. The stark white tiles of the shower block contrasted sharply with the grim scene before us. A prisoner lay lifeless on the floor, his body showing the same telltale signs as the prior victims—broken fingers, no defensive wounds—but this time, there was an additional layer of horror.

Reid crouched down, his face neutral but his eyes sharp as he assessed the body. “Same M.O. as the others. Broken fingers, no struggle. But…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing.

I knelt beside him, the bile rising in my throat as I noted the evidence he’d hesitated to mention. “He was sexually assaulted,” I finished for him, my voice tight.

Shavers exhaled sharply, his expression darkening. “This guy was no saint. Serial rapist, but his connections kept him out of the lockdown protocol. He’s one of the privileged few who could move around freely.”

“That privilege likely made him a target,” Reid said, standing and folding his arms as he surveyed the scene. “The unsub has a specific victimology. He’s targeting those who represent something to him—power, privilege, control. And each murder is an escalation.”

I stood and crossed my arms, “Are there security cameras nearby?” I asked the warden and the officer.

“None inside here, however, there are some in the hallway.” One of them answered.

We watched the tape, our eyes scanning every second for something, anything, that could give us a lead. But there was nothing. The footage from the hallway and showers went black at the critical moments—the power outage had conveniently covered the killer’s tracks.

I returned to my earlier work, pouring over the files, this time expanding my search to include both the prison staff and the inmates. It was tedious, but something didn’t sit right with the randomness of the murders—it had to connect somehow.

Then I spotted it. Our latest victim had been Devon White’s cellmate. My pulse quickened as I continued digging. If White was involved, directly or indirectly, it might explain why the victims were chosen.

I kept searching, flipping through record after record until my eyes landed on the files for Hightower and Rivers, the two deceased corrections officers. Their disciplinary records were sparse, but their activity logs told another story. They’d both handed out more write-ups than anyone else in the entire facility—and most of those write-ups had been aimed squarely at Devon White.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” I muttered under my breath, flagging the pages and setting them aside for Reid to cross-check.

Devon White wasn’t just a missing inmate anymore—he was the link tying everything together. Whether he was orchestrating this from the shadows or someone else was doing it in his name, his trail of complaints and altercations painted a clear target on anyone who’d crossed him.

I stood, files in hand, and headed toward Reid, who was still sifting through security footage and inmate records. “I think I found our pattern,” I said, setting the papers in front of him.

Reid scanned the documents, his eyes narrowing. “White’s cellmate and two officers responsible for the most write-ups against him… This looks personal.”

“Exactly. But if White’s been missing this whole time, he either has help, or someone’s avenging him. Either way, this isn’t random.”

Reid leaned back in his chair, processing the information. “We need to dig into White’s connections—friends, enemies, anyone who might have had a reason to keep him hidden or help him escape.”

Reid quickly got up from his chair, his expression serious. “I’ll check the infirmary for his medical records and see if we can find anything to connect the injuries. We need to know if this kid’s been a target, not the instigator.”

I nodded, feeling the pieces starting to click together. “Good call. I’ll stay here and dig through the rest of his history. We’re missing something in all these records—it’s just a matter of finding the right thread.”

Reid gave a brief smile before heading out, and I returned to the stack of paperwork in front of me, flipping through pages faster now, looking for anything that could explain the connection between White, Hightower, and Waters.