"Garcia, I need you to run a name." Hotch's lips pressed together in a thin line.
The technical analyst could hear the tension in his voice. "Right away, sir. What's the name?"
"Malcolm Barrett. He claims to be an agent with the National Intelligence Department." Bare minutes after the team had arrived at the crime scene, Barrett and his black government issue SUVs had swooped in and claimed jurisdiction.
"The NID, sir? Oooh, no, this can't be good."
Hotch glared at Barrett, who was engaged in an intense phone conversation of his own. "I know that, Garcia. Just do it."