DIRT CAKES THE SOLES OF OUR SHOES. The sun threatens to burn our skin, leaving behind the evidence of its exposure for weeks. Twigs and leaves that scatter the trail crunch and snap underneath us, making the loud unceremonious announcement of our presence. Misquitos swarm us in search of fresh blood to bite, and I can't help but notice the glares we receive from nearly every passing officer and local hiker.

It's my first case on my 'trial period' where I can be in the field as long as I'm being babysitted by others on the team. And it's quite safe to say that I am not having a pleasant time.

Hotch picked a hell of a case for my first time.

A string of killings have been found in the mountains in a small town in Yellowstone County. Each was discovered on a different frequented hiking trail. The police up there don't have the resources to solve this case— or at least they are ill equipped to solve it in the time frame the public is demanding. The local media took this case and ran with it, causing the public to panic. We were called in hopes of solving the case in order to get the tourists to return as soon as possible so they could continue funding their small community.

We don't have much information as of yet. Hotch ordering wheels up after our shockingly short briefing.

Four bodies have been found on hiking trails used mainly by tourists in Yellowstone. All four were tourists visiting the trails alone. Three men and one woman. They each had been killed using a garott type of method. But this killer seems to have a prominent signature— their victims would be choked through the weight of their own legs. A garott is a simple meconism, a rope with handles on the end used to twist together in order to keep steady pressure and make it easier on the person handling the rope. Since the nineteenth century it's been seen in murders from around the world, the handles proving to add a quicker and easier way of strangling someone. But in this case instead of wooden handles that the killer had to twist the unsub opted on putting their own spin on it. A wire was tied around the victims necks and they were laid on their stomachs, with their knees bent up before the other end of the wire was tied to their ankles. The lower their legs would drop, the tighter the wire restricted their windpipe. Eventually they would run out of strength and they would strangle themselves.

"Agent Hotchner?" A tall man dressed in dirty jeans and a plain tee shirt greets us after we made the three mile journey from the beginning of the trail to the latest crime scene.

It would have been a pleasant hike if it weren't for the mosquitoes, the heat, and the glares.

Oh and the murders of course.

"That's me." Hotch reaches out to shake the man's hand. "SSA Hotchner of the BAU."

The man looks us up and down, keeping his movements slow and lingering, not bothering to hide his judgmental gaze. Perhaps this isn't going to be as smooth of a partnership as we had thought.

"You's said they were sending six men from the FBI." He finally calls over to another man who crosses over to him from a large white tent. "Not two men along with two woman, an old man, and a 'barley legal'." His small copper eyes land on me as he spits out the bit about a child.

I cross my arms.

"They each are more than qualified." Aaron's jaw clenched and he drops his hand.

"I'm sure." The man who came over from the tent says simply in a curt voice. He is also very tall, and is wearing plain clothing. "Thank you for coming all this way gentlemen, but I'm afraid your time was wasted."

"What do you mean wasted?" Prentiss asks, completely glossing over the fact that he is clearly only addressing the men of our group.

Sexist prick.

"I'm Captain Aiden Goss." The older man introduces himself. "That is Caleb Anthony. And I mean wasted because-"

"Because we've already solved the case." Officer Anthony cuts him off with a proud smirk. "I told ya not to invite them down, Chief."

"This case isn't solved!" I flinch and quickly look to my left where the loud female voice had come from. A tall woman with dark blonde hair braided over one shoulder comes near us. She is wearing a police uniform, unlike the others walking the crime scene who are dressed in plain clothes. "That man ain't done nothing wrong!"

And things have gotten interesting again.

"Margaret-" Captain Goss begins.

"Officer Renolds." She corrects him.

"I have to apologize, gentlemen," Goss directs his attention to the team again. "This is her first murder case. Should have stuck to traffic."

My mouth falls open in shock, and I want to tell them both off, but with one glance over at the mountain of a man that is officer Anthony, my monetary boldness was suppressed into silent rage.

"Why don't you let my team do their job." Hotch steps forward, his brows creased in annoyance. "And we'll see if the profile fits the man you have arrested."

"Very well." Captain Goss nodded, much to Officer Anthony's dismay. "Yous already here, might as well affirm our work before we open the trials back to the public."

"Alright everyone even numbers today." Hotch turned his back to the two men, and kept his voice low even after they walked away. Spencer was scheduled his yearly evaluation during the time we left for Montana, meaning he had to stay behind on this one. Which is oddly disheartening, I wish he was here for my first case in the field. "Morgan and JJ, you two go and access the crime scene. I want photos of everything. They solved this extremely quickly, too quickly, they probably secured the scene the same way, let's not take any chances. Prentiss, you and I will talk to the other officers, it's clear not everyone is satisfied with the person they have in custody. After that we will go interrogate him. Rossi, you and Cypher go over every bit of evidence they have so far, and compare it to what we gather. Don't wonder off, and remember cell service is spotty at best here, use your walkies- don't let it out of your site, it's our only form of communication this far out."

They all began to disperse. Just to reassure myself that it's still there, my hand trails to my hip, brushing against the heavy communicator that is strapped around my waist. I breathe a sigh of relief, and Rossi comes over to me.

"You good, kid?" He asks, resting his hands on his hips.

"Yeah!" I say a little too loudly. "Y-Yes." I bring my voice back down to a normal level despite the heavy eyes of the officers working around us making me nervous.

"Ignore em' kid." He rolls his eyes as he begins leading us to the tent the police set up. "First rule when dealing with these kinds of people on a case— don't let them get to you."

My brows furrow as I struggle to keep up with his quick strides. "What do you mean?"

"Law enforcement is... political. Everyone has their role. There are sides and rivalries. Sometimes between different jurisdictions, other times between different branches." He explains. "Small time departments like this especially in a dominantly anti government state can have a huge ego. Us coming in and trying to take over is like kicking a man while he's down."

"That's so... stupid." He turns to look at me. "We are all on the same team right? I mean team 'stop the goddamn serial killer'? It's not our fault they are ill equipped to deal with something of this magnitude. And it's quite literally our job to assist in these types of cases. It's not like we singled them out to humiliate them. Maybe if all the branches of law enforcement stopped having a pissing contest with one another and took their oath to serve and protect seriously we wouldn't have so many problems." I'm still angry at the Cheif and the lead officers demeanor and snide comments.

Rossi shrugs. "Maybe you're right, but it's all part of the game unfortunately." I open my mouth to say something when he cuts me off with a string of loud profanities. I glance up just in time to see a squirrel had run out in front of him, nearly being stepped on in the process causing the man to nearly fall as he tried to avoid it. "God I hate it out here!" He seethes, glancing in the direction the squirrel had gone.

"Not a fan of animals?" I poke, a small smile on my face as I walk past him.

"I am, I just prefer them on a plate." He chuckles.

We head over to the large white tent that they police are using as a temporary work space to go over what little evidence they have collected.

"A child could do better than this!" Rossi exclaimed after just a few minutes of thumbing through the documents that had been messily scattered on the small folding table from within the tent.

"You can say that again."

For the next hour Rossi and I dissect the evidence they had acquired from each of the four crime scenes. The officers scribbled writing scattered on post-it notes and yellow lined paper torn from notebooks. Their photographs are poor and slightly blurry, as if they were taken on a low quality cell phone. Each murder had been a little over a year apart. Being in different places along this particular trail that spans around eighty-three miles. Although they were years and miles apart, it's hard to believe that they hadn't connected the murders sooner. Sure there was no calling card left behind, but the strangely specific method of killing acts like a signature in this case... you'd have to be stupid to not even raise an eyebrow at the four similar murders.

It seems the only thing they did right was not revealing anything specific about the case to the media. But now with a man in custody, their silence will soon come to an end.

"Pardon me, sir." I watch Rossi turn towards to see who popped into the tent. I however didn't need to confirm who had come in, the voice fitting Officer Martha Renolds. I remain leaning over the table, slowly reading through the last remaining sentences. My finger trails along as I mouth each word, all the while trying to keep my hair from falling back over my shoulders. "Oh, and Ma'am." She acknowledges despite my focused concentration on the paper.

"How can we help you, Officer..." he trails off, blanking on her name despite having heard it over an hour earlier.

"Renolds." She confirms. "I just... I really don't believe that man they've  arrested had anything to do with these murders. The evidence just doesn't support it!" Her voice is hushed yet urgent and determined.

I set the final paper down onto the table and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. All of this talking has made me forget what I've recently read and I've also lost my place.

"Some evidence." Rossi comments, side eyeing the folding table. "Tell me, does your department make it a habit of not following protocol?"

"Agent..."

"Agent Rossi." He nods in my direction. "Dr Cypher." I find my lips parting to correct the man, but in the end Martha begins speaking before I get a chance.

"Unfortunately in a small town with a large jurisdiction of terrain that many refuse to travel, it's easy to do things your own way, and because of the little to no supervision it's just as simple to go without repercussions. But I plan to change that."

"Oh?" Rossis brows raise. "How so?"

"Goss won't be Captain forever. And when I'm in charge I'll train my men and women to do things the right way. But for now..." she opens the tent slightly, peeking through the slat momentarily. "We've been doing our own work." She turns back to us and moves to set a small suitcase on the table that I hadn't noticed she brought in.

Hesitantly I meet Rossis eyes, questioning this whole interaction. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning closer to the table in curiosity. I cautiously bring my hands to the suit case, slowly dragging the zippers to the other side and slightly lifting the lid. Inside was a combination of printed photographs, neatly typed witness statements, lists of everyone who was in and around the area at the time, among other things that we should have found with the evidence of the police precinct all neatly arranged and bound with rubber bands.

"Officer Renolds?" I look up at her after a moment of confusion.

"Dr Cypher, you acquired this from an anonymous source. Let's just say, I'm not the only one who wants change around here." She sighs. "Unfortunately whoever the killer is, must know something about police handling."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask.

"We secure the scene as best as we can, gathering as much as possible under our Captains nose... but a lot of mistakes first time killers make isn't present in even the earlier scenes. No fingerprints, no hair fibers, even footprints are covered."

"They could have just watched any random crime show, god knows there's plenty of those." Rossi begins thumbing through the clear photos in the case. "Doesn't mean they are a criminal mastermind with inside knowledge of the police."

A shout is heard from outside the tent, making both Margaret and I flinch. But she isn't as good at hiding it as I am.

"I- I should go." Her gray eyes bounce between Rossi and I. Her gaze finally lands on me. "Please Agent Rossi, Dr Cypher, this is unconventional but take us seriously. I'm afraid more people will die if the FBI brushes this away."

"We will do everything we can."

She nods, before turning on her heel and leaving the tent.

I turn towards Rossi, only to find him already looking at me. "What do you make of it?" He asks after a few moments.

"Bizarre." I start. "Noble though."
••••

After giving out a general profile, the team decided to call it a night earlier than we had on any other case I've been on, because of the dangers of being near the crime scene at night.

Hotch and Prentiss talked to some of the other officers, and most of the younger ones showed the same bit of contempt and hunger for change that Officer Renolds had showed. They had met the rest of us at the small cottage we are using as a hotel, after spending the majority of the day interrogating the man they had in custody, a man named Jerry Vass. He had an athletic build, but was quite short compared to some of the men he supposedly killed, and he had no defensive wounds or scars on his body. He had no motive, and no connections other than the fact that he was on the trail during the time the bodies were found, but in most cases he was on the opposite side- a whole 82 mile away. Both Hotch and Prentiss believed that he wasn't faking his confusion, and truly wasn't the one that had killed these hikers.

Jj and Derek took control of the newest crime scene, and Rossi and I had the evidence for the rest.

We were able to get out a profile to the media shortly before we were taken to the cottage. This unsub is most likely a man in his mid twenties, with a history of military service or at least some of their tactics. He will be left handed. At least five foot eleven in height. He probably won't have a record with the police. His crimes are planned and he only leaves behind enough evidence for the crimes to be connected- we don't know if that's intentional or pure dumb luck. He will have a slightly above average IQ, and will be in peak physical condition. We don't believe he kills out of a sick hunger or sexual pleasure. Instead he kills out of necessity.

"So Nicolette," JJ smiles as she takes a seat next to me on the couch in the open room of the cottage. "Morgan got pizza! Can you believe there is actually normal food this far away from the city?" She passes a plate with a large greasy slice into my hand.

"Oh... thank you." I immediately set it on the wooden coffee table, looking up at the open doorway as Emily and Derek come in as well. Hotch and Rossi already went up to their rooms. The cottage has six small bedrooms. With us being two agents down on this case, we are each able to have our own room with our own beds tonight.

"Hey, Pretty Girl! Enjoying your mountainous get away?" Derek winks, reclining back in a chair on the other side of the room.

"You can say that?" I manage to smile. "It's really beautiful here. Almost makes you forget about the overcompensating jerks that run things here." The room is silent for a few moments, the weight of their eyes on me. I glance around the room, head tilting in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing," JJ chuckles. "Just haven't heard you be this forthcoming before."

My brows furrow. "Oh, sorry."

"Shut up, you freak." Emily groans her tone lighthearted. "It's a good thing. Tired of you being so damn proper all the time."

A laugh bursts through my chest at her words.

"To be fair, they did seem like they were overcompensating." JJ shrugs with a giggle, taking a bite of pizza.

My hand covers my mouth trying to suppress a yawn. The three begin a conversation amongst themselves, and I'm more than content on listening. I cringe when my stomach makes a low rumbling sound, not wanting to draw attention. I noticed Emily eyeing my untouched plate on the table.

"Not hungry?" She asks.

"Be grateful I feed you at all."

I'm hungry. But the smell of it makes me so nauseous.

"I..." I sigh before standing. "I'm really tired. I-I'm going to go up to my room."