Like most nights, I am plagued with nightmares. I am used to the nightmares though. I've had them ever since I was twelve. The mines exploding really did a number on me. I wake in the night screaming for my father to run. In high school, "the incident" gave me a whole new set of nightmares to be tortured by. More recently, my time with the Justice Killer has been a major influence. There are night when I am frozen with fear. Others, I wake screaming and shaking.

Last night was no exception. Being in Panem has caused all three major events to haunt me, sometimes in the same nightmare.

I rise before sunrise and get in a jog. My old subdivision makes for a great route. The neighborhood hasn't changed a bit. Yet, one house in particular calls to me.

~Age Seventeen~

From across the room, I watch Peeta laugh at something Delly Cartwright says. I narrow my eyes at the pair and gulp back the shot Rye placed in front of me. I have to admit that they look good together. Both blonde and blue eyed. Both naturally pretty, polite, and good with people.

Things I have never been.

I have known Peeta have known Peeta my entire life, and I still don't know why he is friends with me, other than the fact that we neighbors. I'm the complete opposite of him. I'm moody, depressing, quiet, and dark. Peeta is a light in the dark. He's optimistic and wise beyond his years. There is not situation that Peeta can't talk himself out of.

Nothing romantic has ever transpired between Peeta and I despite me being in love with him since I was at least fourteen years old. I remember something changing one night. I realized that I care about who he dated and talked to. I hated all of his girlfriends. Soon, I realized it was because I wasn't them.

But he doesn't see me that way and never has. Right now, his current conquest is Delly Cartwright with her long blonde hair and pale skin. She's popular and bubbly. She's not the smartest of our class, but she's not stupid either.

Tonight is Peeta's eighteen birthday. His older brothers have returned from college and are throwing him a party complete with drinking and beer pong while their parents are out of town at a business convention. Rye and Bran Mellark are like the older brothers that I never had too, protective and all.

I'm lucky that I have the Mellark family at all. Ever since my father's death, my mother my fell into a fit of depression and could hardly care for me. She had to pick up the pieces of her life and provide for us. Affection has never been her strong suit. Therefore, I am grateful for my neighbors. While Mrs. Mellark is a total and complete bitch, the Mellark men are next level. Mr. Mellark has all the wisdom in the world and the nicest personality. Rye and Bran are clueless about the world, but they are the siblings I always wanted. Then, there's Peeta who takes after his father. He's great with words, would give his shirt to a stranger, and salutatorian of our graduating class.

Rye and Bran have set their sights on me tonight at this party since Peeta is distracted. They know that I am not social and that I don't like parties. I need someone to talk to so I don't bale and return home. So as long as they put the drinks in front of me, I'll drink them.

"Katniss, you're amazing!" Rye yells over the loud music.

"She drinks like she's twenty-one! Only seventeen and a pro!" Bran exclaims too as he gives me a high five.

Rye chuckles. "You'll be a legend in college."

A couple of hours later, Rye and Bran cut me off from the hard stuff while they cleaned up the party and finished their hosting duties. I am sipped on a sprite as the last of the party people left. The walls felt like they were moving even though I was sitting on the couch. I had the overwhelming urge to fall asleep or vomit, but I held it in thinking I would be able to sleep soon.

Naturally, all of the Mellark boys got grounded for what happened next. I didn't sleep that night. No one did. Instead, I spent the night in the hospital connected to an IV. Alcohol poisoning. Rye and Bran felt horrible for what happened. Peeta had no idea that I was so drunk until it was almost too late. He carried me in his arms to my mother. She made me a herbal concoction, but it did not help.

I was grounded too.

I'm showered, dressed, and out the door as the sun begins to rise. On my drive to the Sheriffs office, I pass Mellark's. The store front has changed since the last time I saw it. It looks like they've expanded and taken over the old abandoned building that sat beside it. The outside is painted an evergreen color, my favorite. There are black chairs and tables set up outside, and a line has already formed. A "closed" sign hangs on the door, but the light is on inside.

Haymitch meets me as promised with a black coffee and a box of donuts from a gas station. I've been given my own office and a giant board to do my work. Haymitch breifs me on the case, and I immediately get to work.

Rue Meyers was fifteen years old when she went missing ten years ago. Rue has dark skin and hair, and she went missing while walking home from school. Rue lived less than half a mile away from the school and would have passed numerous houses on her walk home. Yet, no one saw her go missing. Rue's body was the first to be discovered five years ago. It was found by a team conducting research in the swamp. Obviously, the research was halted when a perfectly preserved body was found. She was fully clothed, but her body showed signs of malnutrition and extensive abuse. Rue had not been in the swamp for the entire five years. The only thing missing was her tongue.

Brutus Sullivan was the next disappearance. Brutus was an all American jock, quarterback of District Twelve High School's football team. Brutus went missing two weeks after graduation eight years ago. He was found in a handmade, wooden coffin at the mouth of an abandoned mine. Identification was hard because Brutus was practically a skeleton by the time he was discovered four years ago. He was identified through DNA found in a trinket box inside the coffin. A dried tongue.

Mags Lynn was seventy-one years old when her grandkids reported her missing on Christmas day three years ago. Her last known whereabouts are unknown but it was likely that she was taken from her home. Mags was described as a bit of a hermit. Her body was found in the Pearl River one year ago. The coroner had determined that she was killed one week prior to the discovery of her body. Mags showed signs of being held captive- marks on her wrists and ankles, prolonged dehydration and no contents in her stomach, bruises, and deep lacerations on various areas of her pale body. Mags was found in a light grey nightgown, the same color as her long, curly hair. Her tongue was missing.

Castor Wes was in his late forties when he vanished six months ago. He was a cameraman for the local news, and his disappearance was the most reported on. His connection to the media helped a lot, and most of the town set out to look for Castor immediately. There were search parties around the news studio, where he was last seen. Sadly, the security cameras were down that night. Approximately one week ago, Castor was found hanging from his wrists in a tree in the Quell Forest. Castor was in a state similar to Mags. The most alarming thing to the police was the fact that his tongue was missing. The media coverage was extensive, and the local authorities were finally starting to put the pieces together that the four cases might be connected. Haymitch had no option but to reach out for help.

By lunch time, I've finished my 'crazy board' for the moment. It is filled with pictures of the victims- living and deceased. Under that are descriptions of their stories and statistics of their lives. A giant map graces the center of the board with location marked in red for disappearance sites and blue for discovery sites. Haymitch and I have put in a lot of work when he suggests we go out for lunch. He says we need to get out of the office for a bit. "It's depressing," he states.

I have no idea what restaurants are left in Panem, and I tell him so. Haymitch suggests Mellark's. Naturally, I tell him, "Anywhere but there."

Haymitch scowls at me. "That's the one boy in this entire town that I want to see happy. He deserves it."

I couldn't agree more, but I can't reply. I can't get into the subject of Peeta Mellark. Instead, I ask, "Is that Mexican restaurant still on Seam Street?"

Haymitch raises an eyebrow at me, but he drops the subject of Peeta. "No," he tells me. "There's one that's taken its place though."

I fake a pout. "That used to be my favorite." It's true. I am a sucker for good Mexican food. Quantico doesn't even compare.

Haymitch lets out a low laugh. "Mexican it is then."

After eating my weight in chips and salsa, I meet with the coroner. In my FBI training, I have seen some pretty gruesome deaths and crime scenes. I've seen the pictures for this case, and I know that I will not be seeing the bodies first hand. Nevertheless, the smell of formaldehyde makes my stomach churn a bit.

Ms. Paylor seemed like capable coroner. She was knowledgeable and shared important information about the autopsies on the victims. My time meeting with her is not wasted. I learn that the tongues were not bitten off or sawed off. Paylor wrote in her notes that she thought it was done surgically, cleanly, and while the victims were still alive. In person, Paylor tells me that she suspects the killer has medical training of some sort. Off the record, Paylor tells me that she thinks it was to make the victims stop talking or to punish them.

But punish them for what? Paylor did not have the answer.

Haymitch and I the rest of the afternoon creating theories on what might have happened, why these victims may have been targeted. But by the time we leave to meet with the victim's families, we have nothing solid. I'm lead to the Justice Building, the building where town meetings are held and where the mayor conducts business.

The first person to greet me gives me a scowl that could rival mine.

Madge Undersee, the daughter of the mayor of Panem.

Also known as one of my best friends in high school.

I've kept in contact with Madge over the years, and she's come to Quantico numerous times to visit. Her most recent visit was about two months ago. Madge's scowl quickly dissolves in her signature smile. She pulls me into a tight hug and asks, "You weren't going to tell me you were coming?"

I laugh it off. "I just found out yesterday."

Her scowl returns and her blue eyes narrow at me. "That's twenty-four hours to send a text. You could've called on the drive here!"

I roll my eyes at her. "This was the last place I thought I would ever be sent," I tell her. In more serious tone, I tell her, "I needed time to adjust."

Immediately, Madge's eyes soften. I can tell that she is thinking about all the reasons why I never wanted to come back here. "Okay well, you're here now. Dinner tomorrow?"

"Madge," I whine. "I'm working a case."

"I know, I know..." she says before batting her eyes. "Please?" She begs.

I give in. Dinner with Madge might be exactly what I need. "Fine."

Madge squeals in delight. "I'll text you!" She exclaims as he hugs me again. Then, she mutters something about needed to get back to work. Before I know it, she's gone.

In her place stands her father, Mayor Undersee. The mayor of Panem is tall and balding. He wears glasses and is hardly intimidating. "Thank you for coming, Katniss."

Like I had a choice. "Anytime, Mayor Undersee."

"I was thrilled when Haymitch suggested getting a fresh pair of eyes on the cases. It's been a while since the FBI has been in Panem," Mayor Undersee says as we shake hands. The last time the FBI was in Panem, I was five years old. The previous mayor and other elected officials were involved in a Ponzi scheme. That was the year Mayor Undersee took over.

"I'm happy to help," I tell him.

The older Undersee motions to a set of double doors behind him. "The victims' families have gathered in here. We've set up a table for you to talk to each of them privately."

I immediately recognize the room, and it takes my breath away. I've been in the Justice Building a few times, and it has the same effect every time. I'm transported back to being twelve years old. In that room, Mayor Undersee presented the oldest children of the miners who died in the explosion with a "Medal of Honor" and a stipend.

It did not bring my father back.

Haymitch leads the way, and I'm forced out of my daze to follow him. There are some familiar faces in the crowd but most are people I've never personally talked to. I sit behind a wooden table with Haymitch and listen to their stories.

Rye was a good girl. There's no way she would have went anywhere besides school and home. She was the eldest of six children, so she had plenty of work to do at home. Pleading her case is her mother, who is in tears by the time we finish. Those five siblings support her as she talks to me.

Brutus's father and mother tell me that he was the light of their lives. Brutus was not a perfect student or son, but they loved him regardlessly. I instantly do not like Brutus's parents. There's something off about them and their nonchalant behavior.

Mags has six grandchildren, and only one lives in Panem today. Mags was a hermit and had a speech impediment. Mags's health was rapidly declining, and she showed signs of Alzheimer's. At first, the family believed that she got lost somewhere or wandered off. Searches were conducted but were not helpful.

Castor's son tells me that he was beloved father and employee. No enemies came to mind. The wounds were still fresh for Castor's son, and he looked like he hadn't been sleeping well. The son wanted to find this killer. He wanted justice.

I also hear the stories of the families that believe their loved ones were victims of the Highway 13 Killer. I recorded their names, ages at the time of their disappearance, how long they've been missing, their last known whereabouts, their last known contacts, and their stories.

Primrose Evergreen, age twelve, and missing for two years. Blonde hair and pierced ears. Prim was last seen walking to school.

Glimmer Leven, age forty-two, and missing for seven years. Her mother reports that she has a tattoo of a "glimmer" on the back of her neck. I ask her to draw me a picture, and it looks like a Christmas star.

Marvel Jack, age seventeen, and missing for four months. His mother knows my mother from Bingo.

Enobaria Goldberg, age sixty-three, and missing for nine years. At the time of her disappearance, she had a broken, left hip.

Gloss Alan, age twenty-one, and missing for thirteen months after closing down a bar. Gloss has a tattoo of a bald eagle on his left bicep.

Venia Gelman, age thirty-nine, and missing for ten years. Venia has her tongue, ears, and navel pierced.

Clove Fuhrman, age sixteen, and missing for twelve years. I remember when Clove was reported missing. I was still in Panem at the time. She was believed to be a troubled girl and a run away. Clove has various tattoos and piercings all over her body.

Eugene Tigris, age twenty-five, and missing for twenty years. Her friends called her "Tigris," and she has a tattoo of a cat on her right ankle.

Amanda Wiress, age ten, and missing for fifteen years. Amanda was the youngest person to ever go missing from Panem. She was abducted from her own backyard.

Amber Sae or "Greasy Sae", age fifty, and missing for ten years. Greasy Sae lived in poverty most of her life and was the founder of the Hob, a year round farmers market. Everyone knows Greasy Sae or knows about her.

By the time Haymitch and I leave the Justice Building, we're exhausted and cranky. We go out separate ways with the promise to pick right back up in the morning. My mind swirls the entire ride home. Has there been a killer roaming around Panem and Highway 13 for twenty years?

I barely remember eating the dinner my mother put in the fridge for me. I don't even bother to shower the day off. I strip completely naked in the middle of my room. From the corner of my eye, I see movement. Is it my imagination, or is the curtains of Peeta's window slightly moving? It is not my imagination that the light is on. Feeling dirty, I close my blinds. I crawl under the covers and hope that sleep will find me tonight.