The BAU in Quantico, Virginia.

"What's the case Garcia?" Hotch asks as he enters the conference room. A large oval table fills the center of the room. A sleek, flat screened T.V is mounted halfway up the wall, surrounded by windows overlooking Quantico, Virginia. Chairs surround the table, most occupied by the agents: SSA Derek Morgan, SSA David Rossi, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, technical analyst Penelope Garcia, and Cadet Agent Ashley Seaver. Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner comes in, closes the door, and takes a seat between Rossi and Garcia.

"Murder of a man and woman, married couple, in a small town in Ohio," Garcia replied while typing away on her laptop. Images of the scene project onto the white screen on the wall across from the windows. The mother and father lying in bed, stained with blood appears, followed by less significant images portraying the home.

"Were there any survivors?" Morgan asked, paging through the case report.

"Yes. The daughter was able to call the police," Garcia responded.

"Alright, Morgan and Reid, go to the crime scene. See what you can gather there. Find out more about how the parents were killed and get tabs on the daughter. See if she knows anything. Rossi and Seaver, you go around the neighborhood, asking neighbors if they know anything. I will go to the police station and see what they know," Hotch directed.

Crime Scene in Ohio.

Reid and Morgan exit the black SUV and step down onto the blacktop driveway. The sun is high in the sky and it shines brightly down on the house before them. A few police cars are parked around them while one officer comes out of the home, gets in a vehicle, and drives away.

The house was a normal sized home, the ideal size for the modern American family. The siding was a light shade of green; a soothing, relaxing green. Everything about the house seemed new- recently installed windows, new siding, newly shingled roofs, and elegant flowers growing in multiple flower beds around the home. Medium sized trees, planted only a decade and a half before, are growing around the front of the property. Despite the pleasant ambience, the events that occurred inside the home could be felt from the outside, sending a chill down anyone's spine who stared at the home long enough.

The agents walked into the house and found only a few police officers milling around- taking pictures or collecting samples. In such a small town, a need for more officers was never necessary. Murder cases like this only came around once every lifetime.

A tall, authoritative figure talking with another officer looks up from his conversation to see the agents enter the home. The man walks over to them and introduces himself with confidence, "Hello! You must be the FBI agents we called in for. I'm Officer Williams; you can call me Jack though, that's my first name."

"I'm agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid," Morgan introduces to Officer Williams as they shake hands. "What can you tell us about what happened here?"

"The man and woman were killed upstairs in their bed while they were sleeping last night. Both of their necks were slit and the medical examiner hasn't determined at what time they were killed yet. We noticed that the phone lines were cut too; most likely before he entered the home."

"Can we have a look at the scene?" Reid asks, looking around at the sweet, rustic kitchen.

"Sure can," Officer Williams says as he directs them through the homey dining room and up the stairs. All of the rooms seemed to be well furnished, giving off a comfortable feeling in the home.

At the top of the stairs they took a left and entered the master bedroom. Two other officers from the local police station are there examining the scene as well. The three newcomers walk over to the right side of the bed and look down at the man's body.

The body, now cold, has a deep gash cut horizontally across his throat, almost decapitating the man. The eyes of the defenseless man remain shut. He never saw this coming; never expected this to happen to him and his family.

"The unsub was extremely enraged; look how deep that cut is. It takes a lot of rage, a lot of drive to do something that intense," Reid described as he examined the body aloud.

Morgan walked around the bed and added, "He did the same to the woman; same depth, same intensity. He must have been angry at both of them. But for what? What drove him to do this, to go to this extent?"

"He was methodical," Reid puts in. "This was carefully planned out; how else would he have executed this without waking the parents? And the daughter! Where is the daughter? She survived, correct?"

"Oh yes, I think one of my officers said he saw her out in the backyard. We left her alone because she seemed at peace out there and we already had out hands full with all of this. We only have so many men you know…" Officer Williams answers.

"Do you know her name?" Morgan questions the officer as they exit the room and head for the backyard.

"Her name is Riley Walker. She's 13 years old and attends the local junior high school here. She's lived here her whole life with her parents."

"I think we should go get her view on this," Reid said.

The officer peeled off after the trio walked down the stairs and headed toward the mud room at the back of the house. He found he was needed more to console a younger officer who was vigorously writing away in a small note tablet. The agents continued out into the room that had led the young girl out into her tranquil world just hours before.

Out in the yard, the agents witnessed just how calming this metropolis was. A simple wooden fence served as border that complimented the breath-taking scenery, a wonderland of greenery. In every direction there was some kind of exotic vegetation. From fruitful trees to bamboo stalks to low growing moss that seemed to lick up into the air, giving the rest of its surroundings a fresh, crisp look. In the middle of the luscious yard sat a traditional wooden swing. On the far right of this swing sat a peaceful figure looking out at the vivid sanctuary around her.

The agents walked out to the swing, stood at the opposite side, and looked at the girl who seemed as mysterious as the death of her parents. Her body language was secretive, not even she knew how she felt at the moment. He warned me about police. He said they were the ones to watch out for these days. Corruption everywhere. Can't trust them. But…my parents…I need them…

Riley sat with her body turned away from the agents; her head was ducked down toward the armrest, hiding her slit forehead from the strangers. She kept her right arm down to her side so it too was hidden from their view. The glistening knife that caused so much damage in the last 12 hours lay on her lap with her left arm concealing it. She didn't know whether to expose its whereabouts or just keep it to herself. She didn't know what to give up to these people; could she trust them? He warned me about trusting…He said to trust Him and my family. That's it.

"Riley Walker? We're here with the FBI investigating what happened here. My name is Spencer Reid and this is my colleague Derek Morgan. We want to help in any way we can." Reid introduced softly, showing the girl they were no threat to her.

The FBI…oh man, I'm in deep here…

"Okay," is all Riley could reply with as the struggle between trusting them or not raged in her mind.

"Riley, can you tell us anything you know about the man who did this?" Morgan asked just as gently.

"Not really," she replied, keeping her glance down to her right. She thought of how to help them without putting too much trust in these strangers, "I don't…I don't really know what happened."

"What do you know?" Morgan pressed.

"I woke up and found my parents…dead. That's…that's it."

There was a long silence while the agents thought Riley would continue. Finally after careful consideration of how to ask it, she wondered aloud, "If the man left something behind, do you think…do you think he would come back for it?"

"That depends what that something is. If it's something of importance he might. Why do you ask?" Reid remarked.

"No reason, just wondering I guess."

"What would he come back for?" Morgan asked.

For a minute Riley sat there and considered her position. Should I show them the knife? He never said why I shouldn't trust them…I think...I think I need to. I think this definitely calls for an exception to His rules. Now, how should I show them? She glanced at the glimmering object in her lap and touched it with her fingers. It was so smooth. The only unappealing part was the jagged edges toward the base of the blade. The knife seemed so flawless, despite its streaks of blood. The longer she looked at it the more it seemed to glow in the late morning sun. It wasn't all bad. Not everything bad is all bad. Everything has some good in it. Like these agents, perhaps. There must be some good in them for me to trust them…Or like the man who…who killed my parents. There had to be a purpose. I know there has to be a reason; and I need these agents to help me figure it out.

"Riley?" Reid inquired, concerned with her lack of response.

Instead of replying, Riley grasped the knife by the handle and with her left hand, tossed it to the opposite side of the swing where it landed in the grass with a soft thud. As she tossed the dagger, several lingering drops of blood slid off her forehead onto her T-shirt.

Reid, noticing the blood, asked with concern, "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing, nothing's wrong," she replies quickly, turning farther away from the agents.

"Riley, tell us what's wrong. Are you hurt?"

I can trust them…they sound genuinely concerned…I can trust them. Riley repeats to herself. She hesitates but takes her glance away from the plants on the ground and shows the agents the still oozing slit. She looks up at the pair for a moment with her clear blue eyes, seeing their faces for the first time. But her shyness, anxiety, and fear of her own mind overcome the girl and she finds she can no longer hold their gazes. She looks down at their feet with modesty.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Reid asked with surprise; amazed at how she hid this for so long. Again, she does not speak- just raises her right arm and places it on her lap, exposing the bloody gash on her arm. Morgan takes a glance at her wounds and kneels down to inspect them.

"You definitely need these looked at," he conceded. "The one in your arm is deep. The pain must be excruciating, can't you feel it?"

"I'll…I'll be fine," she stammered, self-conscious of the agents paying so much attention to her. "Let's just go."

Riley got up and walked over to where the agents were standing. The others waited as Morgan took out a plastic bag, placed the knife in it, and returned the bag and its contents to his pocket.

All three walked slowly and silently back into the house. The house where nothing will ever return to the way it was. Inside, police officers were still documenting evidence furiously. Morgan went up to the chief officer, explained what they discovered, handed him the bag, and returned to the group. They left the house through the front door and got into the black SUV Morgan and Reid arrived in. The agents sat up front while Riley sat in the back alone.

It was a quiet ride to the hospital. Riley didn't mind, it gave her time to think. Riley was smart for her age, not just book smart though – in everyday life too. She could easily understand reasons for why people did the things they did. For instance, if she saw a man walking down the street, fidgeting as he walked, glancing up at other pedestrians' faces then shooting his gaze down; she could connect the dots and tell that he was agitated and most likely nervous- something was bothering this man enough that he displayed it prominently. Something large or important must be the problem. If he were simply irritated it wouldn't show like this- he has to be really upset, something big is wrong- perhaps something life altering. This is what Riley could do best; from the time of her first memories, she knew she was always good at body language, facial expressions, and reading people; that's how He found her. But now, Riley wanted to know more about what these agents were about; to really see them when they couldn't see her. She started with the driver, Derek Morgan.

Agent Derek Morgan was a tall, muscular African-American man. Outside he seemed tough; physically strong. Inside though, that was a whole other story. He could be gentle, but at the same time he was guarded; he only expressed entirely with close friends, friends like family. Sure the other agents on his team made a good "family" but he just couldn't come completely clean with them. Nothing could ever take up that empty space; he was scarred by his shattered biological family. He would struggle to maintain a steady relationship because of this past. It was hard for him to put too much trust on a single person. Few have ever gained that trust, for too many had destroyed it before. Derek tried not to think of his shortcomings; he was afraid the team would see him as incompetent and broken. He had to act like the exact opposite he felt everyday to keep up his image among the group. He couldn't let anyone else in; no one would understand what he's been through.

"You okay back there?" Morgan asked while glancing back through the rear-view mirror at Riley. She was staring off into space, her eyes fixed on the windshield between the two front seats.

"I'm fine," Riley answered keeping her gaze in the same place.

Agent Spencer Reid was a skinny, medium height, awkward guy. He seemed young for his position in the FBI, probably skipped a few grades in primary school. Doing that would not have exactly made him the popular kid in school. He was probably always picked upon and this lack of social skills has translated into his life today. Of course he didn't need these great social skills; with his intellect he could go anywhere and do anything he wanted- in his mind. Although he has such a successful career now, Reid was still unsatisfactory with his life. He made a mistake somewhere along the way and he will never be able to forgive himself for it. This mistake happened to someone he deeply cared about; it was for the best but he can never see it that way. Like Agent Morgan, Reid grew up from a broken family. His parents weren't the best help to him- even if he didn't need it. They wanted to be there for him but they just couldn't; something was stopping them from doing this. He felt an emptiness inside him where the joys and memories of childhood should go. This void was left unfilled for it could never be filled, no matter how good life got now.

All of this information Riley could gather by being around these two agents for less than half an hour. It took a lot out of her to read into people like this; to see their innermost thoughts and feelings; to do what she does best. After this time-consuming chore was over, Riley sat back and relaxed. She estimated it was another five minutes or so until they arrived at the hospital. Plenty of time for her to relax after her recent events.