At the hospital the trio sat in the waiting room, surrounded by an awkward silence, for about 10 minutes before Riley was sent back for x-rays. The doctors were concerned the knife could have caused bone damage. While the x-rays developed, the nurse put 18 stitches in her forehead to heal the cut. The x-rays came back and showed a small chip in her radius. The doctors cleaned up the wound then put a cast around her forearm. The bulky cast felt awkward on her skinny arm but it would only be on for two or three weeks. Riley and the agents thanked the doctor before they left the hospital.

Heading back to the police station, the trip was short and quiet. No one had anything to say, nothing could be said. On the contrary, when they arrived at the station, it seemed as busy and restless as a Macy's on Black Friday. The building was small, like the amount of officers, but with the BAU agents it was overwhelming. As soon as Riley entered the building she stopped in awe; there was so much information each person knew about this case. There was so much Riley could learn here. Where am I going to start?

Morgan walked over to a rectangular table with a few other, professional looking people standing around it, glancing and pointing at photos and other papers. Reid directed Riley over to two chairs sitting by the wall in a rare, lonely part of the room. She sat down in the chair nearest the corner and the plastic potted plant. Riley wanted a good seat, one that captured everything going on. The chair wasn't very comfortable though, and she found herself fidgeting often as she thought.

After she sat down Reid spoke, "Alright. Stay here for now, Riley. I or one of the other agents will be back to talk to you."

"Okay," she replied half heartedly. She was already thinking of how she will take in all of the information around her. So deep in thought, she didn't even notice Reid as he walked over to the table where Morgan and the other agents were discussing their own information.

Riley sat back in the chair, extended her legs and crossed them at her ankles, then crossed her arms below her chest and let her brain go to work. She started with the killer and analyzed him with the information she knew. He was cowardly and definitely not a risk taker. If he was, he would have woken the parents and faced them before slitting their throats. Instead he killed them in their sleep. He didn't want to risk one waking the other and ruining the plan. He was cautious too, overly so. He thought of cutting the phone lines before he even entered the home. It seemed he wanted to be extra sure he wouldn't be caught. Either he was as first time genius and knew what could go wrong, or he's done something like this before- that means he could have a record. He didn't exactly seem like the genius type; while this was so well organized, it also felt messy. He must have some kind of record, whether it was something simple like assault or something significant like an initial murder. Regardless, he could be sent straight back to jail if and when he was caught.

As Riley sat and thought, she tapped her left index finger against the stone-like cast. The cast was very contradicting, it had many bumps, but yet, it was smooth. Smooth like the side of the knife that slit her parents' throats. Why had the man decided to use a knife instead of a gun? Or his hands? Yes it was quieter, but a silencer pistol could have been just as silent. A knife would let the man feel what he was doing without laying a hand on the victim. But if he used his hands, it would have taken longer and risked the other waking up. He wouldn't take that risk. He wanted to feel the life leave their bodies without his fingerprints being on the bodies and without taking unnecessary risks. Although he probably already wore gloves so his fingerprints wouldn't show on anything; he doubted his ability of being able to kill them before they overpowered him and disrupted his plan. The need for closeness shows this must have been personal to him.

Riley figured she could conclude four things from her analysis. 1) This man was not a big risk taker. He did ever had some type of record that the government could identify him with if he was ever suspected. 3) He found himself weak and unable to fulfill certain tasks because of this. 4) This man killed these people because there was some sort of personal connection. He didn't do this for the thrill or because it fit a pattern, he did it because it needed to be done in his mind.

Riley folded her arms and legs and relaxed more in her seat. Should I share this with the agents? I want to find out who did this. I need to. And they can help. But what will they think of me? Will they accept me? Accept me like He did? She dazed over at all the people standing around the table by Reid and Morgan, and assumed that everyone at the table, except those in police uniforms, were also part of the FBI. They look trustworthy. They took to me to the hospital and cared for me. That's it. I have to trust them; I'll give them what I found out. It's the least I can do.

Everyone at the table was looking down at the papers and documents scattered across the tabletop; occasionally someone would move a paper or two into a different location. With a quick glance around the room, Riley noticed no one was paying attention to her. Full of curiosity, she stood up, got a glimpse of the papers on the table, and sat back down.

Some people from the table thought they saw the girl move, but when they got a good look at her she was sitting in her chair, peacefully, innocently staring at the wall in front of her. Those people then shrugged to themselves and got back to work. Once Riley knew no one was looking at her, she raised her arm to cover her face, and cracked a smile. The seriousness of the moment came back to her after a few seconds and her face fell. Now wasn't the time to be making jokes and pulling tricks.

Recollecting on what she saw, Riley recalled most of the papers on the table were photographs. She couldn't tell what the captured images were of, but her guess was on her parents and the scene. What could she gather from these images? Nothing. Riley shook her head, trying to get the images out of her head. She already saw them once; once was enough.

As time stretched on, Riley grew restless in her seat in the corner. She watched people enter and exit the building. She noticed that more left than entered so throughout the day the building became less crowded and the noise lowered. There wasn't much to do here but to think- to do what she did best. But as she analyzed these authoritative figures, she felt wrong. Like it was wrong to uncover a person's secrets. If it felt so wrong, why did He encourage it?

Finally after what summed like days of solitary confinement, Reid and another man Riley didn't know walked over and brought an end to her excessive thoughts.

"Riley, this is Agent David Rossi. He works with Agent Morgan and me," Reid addressed as he indicated toward the new companion.

"Hello," Riley replied cautiously.

"How are you feeling, Riley? I know it's been sort of a long day for you," Rossi asked, empathetic.

"I'm okay. I…I don't feel too different right now. I guess this just kind of feels like a bad dream. A dream I'm never going to wake up from. I just…I don't know how to feel about it yet," Riley answered, shifting her gaze to the floor. Eye contact was not her virtue.

"It's okay to grieve you know. You're allowed to mourn. It's perfectly normal for someone in your position to need some time to grieve," Rossi said.

"I know, but I don't need time to grieve. I want to find who did this." She looks up at the agents in front of her with determination. After taking a deep breath she goes on, "I want to help you find who did this."

There was a short silence as Rossi and Reid pondered why this girl, this apparent victim, would want to help. How could she possibly help them? She was a child!

Riley couldn't take their silent, puzzled looks anymore. She had to start the discussion, "Did you find out anything about how they were killed? Any…any information at all?"

"We…we can't tell you that, Riley. We're not supposed to discuss anything about the case with…anyone involved," Rossi replied with awkwardness.

Riley rolled her eyes and returned confidently, "I'll tell you what I know if you tell me what you know."

"What do you know?" Rossi questioned.

"That depends on what you know."

"Riley if you know something about this you have to tell us. This is serious business." Rossi stated with an air of authority.

"I will tell you what I know. After you tell me what you found out," Riley remarked, holding her ground.

"Why are you doing this?" Reid asked, with a voice filled more with curiosity than anger.

"I've had a lot of time sitting here to think. I figured both of us have nothing to lose and lots to gain by doing it this way," Riley answered coolly.

"Why do you want to help us? It's extremely unusual for someone in your position to want to help like you are suggesting," Reid continued.

I'm getting really tired of hearing someone in my position. I'm not like someone in this position. I'm not like anyone. She resists an eye roll and replies, "I want to know what you know. And I want to help you. Is that so bad?"

Reid and Rossi looked at each other. It wouldn't be a bad thing to have her help. Information was always useful and essential from a victim's stand point. But how reliable would Riley's information be?

After an awkward moment of silence between them, Rossi spoke, "One moment please." Riley nodded and they took a few steps away until they felt they were out of earshot.

"Do you think we should tell her?" whispered Reid.

"It would be breaking protocol to tell another person information about the case," Rossi began.

"But she's a big part of this case. I think we need what she has."

"And the only way she'll give it up is if we tell her what we know…do you think it's worth it?"

Reid looked over at the young teenager. She seems tough, mentally; and trustworthy like she wouldn't trick about something like this. He looked back to Rossi, "I think we should do it."

"Then let's do it," Rossi concluded. The pair walk back to a pensive Riley, sitting in the spot they left her. "We will tell you."

"Alright, go ahead," Riley nodded, serious and attentive.

"We know that they died around 2:30 this morning. We worked out that the killer came in through the front door, climbed the stairs, and entered their room. He slit the man's throat first, then the woman's. He then proceeded to your room…and made a quick getaway. We still aren't sure how he made his exit though. There were also no fingerprints, other than yours, on the knife," Reid declared. He spoke quickly but efficiently; getting the potentially sensitive information out as fast as possible.

"Hmmm," Riley thought aloud, "You guys went for the physical evidence first, I see. Not bad, not bad. Good explanation."

"What do you mean 'physical evidence?' What else did you have in mind?" Rossi asked, wondering just how much this girl knew.

"Other evidence like what and why the killer did what he did," she explained. "Did you figure any of that not-so-obvious information out yet?"

"No, we didn't gather enough facts yet…." Reid mumbled.

"What?" Riley teased.

"Just tell us what you know," Rossi interrupted.

"Alright," Riley started. "So, there are four major points. Number 1; the killer was not a big risk taker. He didn't like to be in dangerous situations."

As Riley was taking a pause to say her next discovery, Reid objected, "How do you know this?"

Riley let out a loud sigh and explained, "He cut the phone lines before it was even needed, and he wore gloves when he used a knife. You said so yourself that he did not leave any fingerprints on the knife. Also, he killed them while they were sleeping. He wasn't man enough to face them before he killed them. He was a coward. He wanted to be very careful about not being caught, extra careful. This brings me to the next thing. But first, any other questions so you won't rudely interrupt?"

"Continue," Rossi grunted as he pondered over her explanation.

"Next, he probably has some kind of record with the government. Maybe a rap sheet or maybe some kind of legal paper. Because regardless of what it is, if he is suspected and searched for identification, this paper will identify him. Any comments?"

"Explain your reasoning," Reid replied simply. He looked in a daze, gathering and interpreting all this information.

"The killer was super careful. Any regular killer would be cautious, but not this cautious. He assumed the worst right away, and so he was extra careful to avoid the worst case scenarios."

Neither Rossi nor Reid had anything to say as they connected all of the dots between one bit of information to the next so Riley continued to speak, "Number three; he finds himself incapable of doing things, he knows he's weak. That's one of the reasons why he decided to use the knife; he wasn't strong enough to kill them with his bare hands. He didn't want to risk them awakening and alerting someone, he knew he wouldn't be strong enough to handle two adults on his own. Any questions?"

"No, continue," Rossi murmured as he was still comprehending.

"The last thing, number four; this was a personal killing. The knife he used helped him to feel what he was doing, taking the lives of the victims. The knife was like an extension of himself…he wanted to feel this act; he wanted to fell his mission become a success. If this had been a random killing, the killer probably would have used a gun or something quicker," Riley finished and stared down to the floor again. "That's all I got." Her mood grew somber and serious as she explained the extent of her knowledge.

A few minutes passed as the agents thought of how to respond. Riley kept her eyes glued to the floor; it wasn't as hard when the thought stayed in her head. Now that they escaped, she didn't know what to do or how to react. Especially since neither of the agents responded. He always responded and praised me after I explained something like this to Him. Am I wrong for telling these agents? What if they can't be trusted? What if…what if…I don't even know what they will do. I don't know these people. But what other choice do I have?

Rossi's low voice interrupted Riley's thoughts, "How did you figure all that out?"

Something deep inside of her told Riley to trust them. Do it! Do it! The voice screamed. "I…I don't know; I just started by asking myself a question and then I worked out the logical answers. If there was more than one answer to one question I'd work out the answer to the next question and see if it narrowed down the type of killer," Riley replied with her head still bowed and her eyes glossed over with sorrow. She didn't want to talk about this anymore. It's too personal. She just wanted to be alone. Alone with her own thoughts once more.

Reid stood straighter and finally put all the parts together; it wasn't just that it was hard to comprehend, Riley began to speed up her words toward the end- the words felt like poison as the left her mouth and she wanted to get rid of them. Reid had to play back all the words she said and then put them back together to understand fully. He wanted to understand this girl better, not just what she knew.

After much thought, he found the right words to say to her, to understand her more, "That was good, Riley. Have you ever found yourself doing this before?"

"I guess, kind of, I do something like that. I…I'm sorry. I really don't want to talk about this anymore. Can I just be left alone?" Riley replied, self-conscious and embarrassed. She already said too much to these two strangers. She didn't want to give up more of herself; she couldn't. Then they would know too much.

"It's okay, Riley. It's fine to tell us anything," Agent Rossi implored.

"I don't know. I just do it." Riley cuts her explanation short. Why should she trust these people with her personal life? She told them what she knew about the case and that's all they should need. She only needs their help solving this, she doesn't need helping making life decisions.

Riley sat with her legs tucked under the chair, her arms crossed on her lap, and eyes wide, staring at the floor. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen. She was beginning to feel the effect of her loss. It felt as though nothing in her life would ever be right.

More to come soon!