"Is this what New Yorkers consider nightlife? I feel sorry for East Coasters," Hannah said, stifling a small yawn and clutching her hot coffee.
It was her first weekend in the New York office, and she had dragged Jack out to experience the city's club culture. After a night of pounding music and dancing until 4 a.m., they had finally settled in a bar for a while before returning home at dawn.
Compared to the laid-back, wellness-focused lifestyle in Los Angeles, New York's nightlife struck Jack as both wild and tiresome. He couldn't understand the appeal of dancing to deafening music in a packed club. Even Hannah, after her initial excitement wore off, admitted she probably wouldn't go back.
Jack sat at the long dining table, frowning as he scrolled through the New York City Health Department's website. The site listed various fish species to avoid eating or consuming regularly, including blue crabs, sturgeon, river herring, and striped bass. Nearly all freshwater and nearshore species from the East and Hudson Rivers, as well as those around Long Island, were flagged due to high levels of pollutants like polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) and mercury.
He rubbed his temples in frustration. This restriction meant a significant reduction in the variety of ingredients available for his cooking. While he wasn't short on cash, the idea of shelling out for flown-in fresh fish just to make a pot of fish soup dampened his enthusiasm.
Sighing, he closed his laptop. For now, he'd have to make do and look into recipes that featured deep-sea seafood like king crab. "How about a trip to Long Island today?" Jack suggested. Long Island, adjacent to Brooklyn and Queens, was known for its suburban feel, luxury resorts, and affluent communities. He recalled watching Growing Pains as a kid, where the Seaver family lived in this area.
Before Hannah could respond, both their phones rang almost simultaneously. Jack glanced at the caller IDs: his was from Dana Moger, while Hannah's was from Jubal Valentine. He didn't need to guess—they had a case.
"Yes, Agent Moger. What's the assignment?"
"I just sent you an address in Long Island. Head over now. The Sands Point police discovered a mass burial site there, suspected to be the work of a serial killer. You'll assess whether to involve BAU."
"Understood, ma'am." Jack grabbed his car keys and, with Hannah beside him, headed out. It was almost uncanny—he'd barely mentioned Long Island, and now they had a case there.
Sands Point is located on Long Island's northern bay and is renowned for its lush nature reserve, which spans around 216 acres, with ancient castles and a scenic beach. Its peaceful surroundings and mild climate make it a secluded retreat for New York's wealthy elite. Apart from the cold, damp winters, many famous writers and musicians choose it as a summer getaway.
Once they got through the traffic in the city and onto the Long Island Expressway, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Hannah sat in the passenger seat, her phone buzzing continuously as updates flowed in from the operations center. Jubal Valentine had started sending details of the case as they became available.
Early that morning, an African American family living near Sands Point encountered an unexpected visitor—a young white woman, covered in cuts and bruises, stumbled into their backyard, screaming for help.
The family's father called 911 immediately, and an ambulance arrived to take the girl to the hospital. She had been stabbed over thirty times and was in critical condition due to severe blood loss, currently still fighting for her life.
The Nassau County Sheriff had deployed K9 units to follow the blood trail, leading them to a small forest clearing in the nature reserve. There, they found a partially dug grave. The hole was shallow, which might have been what allowed the girl to escape. But what truly shocked the two officers was the sight of nearly twenty small mounds in the clearing.
Following the trail, Jack and Hannah arrived at the designated clearing, which was already bustling with personnel from the Nassau County Sheriff's Office, the FBI's Emergency Response Team (ERT), and CSI investigators.
Although CSI is technically under the NYPD, their jurisdiction often extends beyond the city into the greater New York State area. This case was part of Dana Moger's ongoing efforts to improve interagency collaboration between the FBI's New York office and local law enforcement.
Jack wasn't too surprised to see Mike Taylor here and quickly introduced him to Hannah. After a few greetings, they got down to discussing the situation.
"We've exhumed a few bodies so far," Mike began. "Initial examinations suggest they're all young white women. The bodies haven't decayed too badly, and they're already being sent to the lab. Our forensics team is going to have their hands full."
Mike, looking more worn out than usual, had heavier bags under his eyes than Jack remembered.
Jack counted the makeshift graves. "Nineteen in total?"
Mike nodded. "Yes, eighteen bodies and one survivor. We're meticulously checking each grave, hoping to find something, but I'm not optimistic. The killer seems very cautious and highly methodical."
"What do you think, Hannah?" Jack asked, curious to see her skills in action. In Los Angeles, she had taken charge of numerous cases, but his impression of her work remained rooted in their early days as LAPD partners. He was interested to see her analysis here.
Hannah stepped forward and scanned the surroundings, her demeanor shifting as she entered work mode. Her confident, self-assured stance was striking, making it hard for Jack to reconcile her with the affectionate partner she'd been just minutes before.
"He's smart," Hannah began. "The killer is organized and meticulous, very familiar with his surroundings. This part of the woods is remote—we had to take a dozen turns after exiting the expressway just to find it. So, it's clear he picked this spot carefully to bury his victims.
"But he doesn't seem particularly patient and might be overconfident," she added.
"What makes you say that?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.
"This is his first mistake. After killing eighteen people, he didn't even bother checking if his latest victim was truly dead. So, he likely doesn't have obsessive-compulsive traits. Unlike a typical psychopath, he treats this as a task rather than a compulsion."
"Nicely done." Dana Moger approached from a distance, giving Hannah an approving nod.
"I just finished a brief on-site interview. This case is yours to handle," Dana said. "This place is one of the few untouched sanctuaries near New York City, and it's never seen such a gruesome crime before. Let's see if you two can wrap this up quickly."
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [www.p@treon.com/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]