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"Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters."

-Stephen King, The Shining

You

You watched as the teacher stepped outside of the building, whistling quietly to himself. You watched as he brushed his slightly-too-long brown hair out of his face as he rummaged for his keys. He didn't notice you. He stood tall, unaware of you. Martin Daniels. You hated him. So you waited until he was alone. Waited for the perfect moment. And then you struck.

B.A.U.

"This is Pembroke Pines, Florida. A week ago, Martin Daniels, a high school teacher and father of two, was found with his throat slashed at the school parking lot." JJ pointed the remote at the television screen, pulling up a gruesome picture of an average-looking man, his glasses askew and partially covered by his brown-gray hair. Blood spattered his face, leaving dark red freckle-like stains over his face and body. The B.A.U. team glanced at the photo, some returning to review the file in their hands, others' gazes lingering. "Three days later," JJ continued, another picture appearing on the screen, "Jason Burwin, unemployed and a stepfather to one daughter. He was found in his backyard by his wife. Both victims were D.O.A."

"Same M.O.?" Reid looked up, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, both victims died from a single slice wound across the throat, which, from the autopsy report, was made by a household kitchen knife."

"That's strange." Prentiss frowned.

"What is?" Morgan asked, setting his copy of the file on the table.

"The victimology. Burwin and Daniels have virtually nothing in common. They were found in different places and had different jobs. Even their ages and appearance…" she trailed off. "Everything is different. How are they sure it's the same person?"

It was Rossi's turn to answer. "They're not. But, the city has one of the lowest crime rates in the country. The likelihood of having two killers is- well, it's pretty small."

"That's true," Reid said, straightening. "Pembroke Pines' crime rate remains the lowest in the United States, hovering at about .6 murders for every hundred thousand people, which is low even for cities with a population under a hundred thousand. Gang activity is also relatively low because the average age of the population is around forty. So, statistically speaking, the chance of having two killers with the same M.O. in a town like this is, well, quite close to zero."

"Alright there, slow down, Boy Genius," Morgan chuckled. "So, why are we needed? If Reid is right, which I trust he is, then this killer should be one of their only problems, right? The whole department working together should be able to catch just one UNSUB."

"Well, the local police department hasn't been able to find a motive or any connection in victimology. The UNSUB has only killed twice, so we have no way of knowing when they will strike next. Pembroke P.D. thinks this looks like they have a serial killer on their hands. That's why they've asked for our help."

Hotch stood, motioning for the rest of his team to follow. "Get your go bags. Looks like we're going to Florida."

Florida was muggy. And sunny. Too sunny for Reid. "Did you know that just a couple of hours in the sun can cause heat exhaustion, heat strokes, and sunburn? An excessive amount can lead to serious health effects like skin cancer and a lowered immune system, among other things." He wiped the sweat from his brow, closing the SUV door behind him.

"I know, bud, too hot for me, too." Morgan patted the young genius's shoulder sympathetically.

"You better get used to it," Rossi added with a small smile. "We might be here for a while." The team walked towards the police department.

A stout woman met them halfway through, introducing herself as the lead detective on the case. She exuded confidence and authority, reminding Reid of a female version of Hotch. "You must be the FBI. I'm Allyson Bodair. We're glad you're here."

JJ shook her hand, smiling faintly. "And we're happy to be here. I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau and these are SSA's Morgan, Prentiss, Hotchner, Rossi, and Dr. Spencer Reid." She pointed to each respectively as she introduced them.

"Thank you for being here. We're going to need all the help we can get." She turned to the police station, motioning for them to follow. "Another body showed up this morning."

"Today?" Rossi asked. Detective Bodair nodded. "I don't understand. The UNSUB isn't sticking to any pattern. First victim a week ago, then three days later, then now. And the crime is too controlled to be just an opportunistic thrill killing. These were all planned. This just doesn't make sense."

"Let's just take this one step at a time," Hotch cut in. "Reid, Morgan, you two take a visit to the crime scene. See if you can find something of importance. Rossi, you stay at the station and work with Garcia to see if you can build a geographic profile. JJ, you know what to do." She nodded. "Good. Prentiss and I will visit the victims' families, see if there's anything there."

"Hello? Mrs. Burwin?" Prentiss knocked on the door of the Burwin residence. The house itself was shabby and unkempt, with overgrown weeds crowding the less-than-modest gardening space around the house. A quiet groan signaled the door opening, and Hotch and Prentiss held up their badges. "Mrs. Burwin?" The brunette woman nodded, pushing her crow's nest of hair out of her forehead. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her face covered with smeared makeup as if she'd just been crying. "We're here with the FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions regarding your late husband. If you don't mind, of course."

The woman nodded again, stepping back to let the pair through. "Call me Claudette, please." As Prentiss walked into the house, a musty draft tinged with the smell of alcohol greeted her, and she fought the urge not to make a face.

"Hello, Claudette." Hotch held out his hand for her to shake. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Don't be," a new voice cut in, her tone bitter. Hotch turned his head to see a teenage girl standing with her arms crossed at the edge of the living room. It was Jason Burwin's stepdaughter. "He wasn't a good person anyway."

The sentence piqued Hotch's interest. He straightened, facing her. "What do you mea-"

"Aedyn!" Claudette cut him off. "Don't you dare talk about your father that way." Hotch watched as the girl, Aedyn, flinch, the angry fire fading from her eyes. She seemed to shrink into herself, avoiding eye contact from either of the agents.

"Sorry," she muttered, stuffing her hands into her sweater pockets. Her jaw was clenched as she turned and walked back to her room.

"I apologize for her. She's taken Jason's death quite harsh-"

It was Hotch's turn to cut her off. "What did she mean?"

"Hm?" Claudette hummed, confused. "She meant nothing. You know how teenagers are these days, always upset about something, right?" She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"No, actually, I think she meant what she said," Prentiss spoke up, leaning forward to stare Claudette in the eyes. "Was your husband abusive? Did he hit her? Did he hit you?"

"No, of course not. Jason was a good man."

Prentiss eyed the empty beer bottles scattered across the living room. "Was he an alcoholic?"

"No," she said, almost abashedly. "Those are mine."

Prentiss opened her mouth to speak, but Hotch gave her a warning look. "There was another murder, a week ago. Do you recognize him?" He brought the conversation back on track, holding up a picture of Martin Daniels. "Was he a friend of your husband's?"

Her eyes were unfocused as she took in the photograph. "This isn't a big town. Almost everyone knows everybody." She squinted. "He looks familiar. Aedyn's friend's dad? Her teacher? I don't know."

Hotch nodded, standing up. "May I ask your daughter about him?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you catch that bastard." The pair stood, heading towards the hallway Aedyn had disappeared down.

"Hey." Prentiss knocked gently at the door, pushing it open slowly. The room was small but neat, clothes folded or hung up in her closet, which was halfway open. "This is a nice room you have. Very clean. Neat." She walked into the room and crouched by the bare mattress on the floor where the girl sat, knees hugged to her chest. Hotch stayed by the doorframe, arms crossed, and listened in quietly.

"Thanks."

"Aedyn, right?" The girl nodded. Prentiss held up the picture. "Martin Daniels. Do you know him?"

Aedyn's lips quirked to the side. "Yeah." Her reply was short and she kept her eyes glued to a stained patch in the carpet.

"Must've been pretty big news at your school when he died." The only indication that she'd heard the agent was an almost imperceptible nod. "Did you know him? Personally? Was he your teacher?"

"There's only one high school. He's everyone's teacher." The irritation in her voice was unmistakable. Aedyn faced away from the agent, glaring at the wall like it was the one who killed her teacher and stepfather. "I don't have any information. There's nothing to talk about. Please leave."

Prentiss stood, surprised at the sudden hostility. "A-alright. Sorry to bother you." She looked at Hotch, who seemed to hold the same confused expression she did. But he shook his head slightly, a 'just-drop-it' look on his face, and she nodded, turning away to follow her superior out of the run-down house.

"Thank you for answering our questions. Sorry to bother you." Hotch's formal farewell was professional as ever, but Prentiss noticed a tenseness in his shoulders that wasn't there before.

The car drive back to the precinct was filled with a strange, stressed quiet, as both agents were on edge after they witnessed the disarray the Burwin family had been in. It was getting uncomfortable for Prentiss. "The girl," she started, breaking the silence. "She wasn't lying, was she? Or doing it for attention?"

"No, not from what I could tell." Hotch kept his eyes on the road.

"Is there anything we could do to help?"

"Unfortunately, no. We could call child services, but her abuser is dead. I don't know if there's anything we can do." His jaw clenched at that as if he hated the words that came out of his mouth. Which he did. With a passion.

"But her mom-"

"Wasn't the abuser. There was food in the kitchen, and no bruising on her arms. She's fine now. As much as we hate it, there's nothing we can do." Prentiss nodded reluctantly and dropped the subject.

"Wait, what if…" Prentiss started suddenly, an idea popping into her head. "What if someone knew about what was happening? If-if, you know, someone felt like they needed to do something?"

"You mean like a vigilante?" Hotch's eyes met hers for a split second before focusing back on the road. "It's possible. But what did Daniels do?" Dialing their technical analyst, Garcia, Prentiss held up a finger.

"You have reached the Oracle of Delphi. Seek and you shall find." Penelope's usual peppy voice filtered into the car, made tinny by the poor quality speaker.

"Hey, Garcia. Can you look up criminal records for both victims?"

"Sure thing, honey," she said, the sound of furious typing taking over the conversation for a few seconds. "Okay, I have a few counts of assault on Jason, mostly bar fights and stuff… but zip on Martin. Like, nothing. His record is clean as they ever come. He doesn't even have a speeding ticket."

"Are you sure?"

"Emily, are you doubting my capabilities? It's beginning to sound like you're doubting my amazing, goddess-level hacking abilities." Garcia feigned hurt.

"No, no, I'm not. Thanks, Garcia." Prentiss said, shaking her head, a smile on her face as she snapped her phone shut. "Okay, so that rules that out." She turned back to Hotch. "Back to square one?"

"I don't think so, actually. I have a theory. Let's get back to the station so I can check it out with the rest of the team."

"I hope it's a good one. We're getting nowhere with this case."

A/N

Hey guys, it's Destiny. This is my first fanfic on this website, and my first on Criminal Minds as well, so if you have any advice or suggestions, or see any mistakes in my writing, please let me know! I'm looking forward to hearing your feedback. Also, this is going to be a short fic, only about four or five chapters (in order to just get a feel for things), and I'm not really focusing on the mystery element, so you'll probably be able to guess the UNSUB before the end. Even so, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please leave a review- it would mean so much to me!

P.S. I don't own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.