FBI credentials are typically housed in a leather wallet with a steel-embossed badge on the front. When opened, the wallet reveals two sections: the top card displays the full name of the Federal Bureau of Investigation with an eagle watermark and a unique serial number. The bottom half includes a photo ID on the left, the issue date below the photo, and a handwritten signature column on the right. The gold FBI badge is removable and not fixed to the wallet.
Jack felt a sinking sense of foreboding as he examined the killer's ID. He peeled away the suspect's photograph and uncovered the real face printed beneath it: an older, bald white man who looked to be around the same age as Rossi.
Jack quickly pulled out his phone and called Garcia. "Hey, sweetheart. Could you run a check on Ed Schultzbach? He's probably a retired agent. Try to contact him if you can."
"What's going on?" asked Rossi, who had just arrived with the rest of the BAU team.
Jack handed Rossi the credential. Rossi's expression darkened as he inspected it.
"I really hope he just lost his credentials and forgot to report it," Rossi muttered grimly.
Everyone present understood the gravity of losing an FBI ID, even if Schultzbach had been retired for years.
Moments later, Jack's phone rang. He switched on the speaker. Garcia's cheerful voice filled the air.
"I found him, my deliciously handsome man. Ed Schultzbach retired as a supervisory special agent in 2018. I haven't been able to contact him yet. But judging from his Facebook pictures of clear blue waters and Mai Tai cocktails, he seems to be enjoying his retirement."
"Garcia, it's me," Rossi interjected, his voice tense. "Can you reach any of Schultzbach's family members?"
"Oh… my apologies, sir." Garcia's tone immediately became serious. "I've called around. His relatives on the East Coast haven't heard from him recently. I also spoke to his old partner, retired Agent Green.
Green mentioned they had a barbecue yesterday, but Schultzbach didn't show up. He didn't think much of it since Schultzbach often takes impromptu fishing trips."
Garcia paused before hesitantly asking, "Wait… is this related to our case? Oh no, don't tell me—"
"It's not what you're thinking," Jack reassured her. "Just send me his address."
Before Jack had finished speaking, Rossi was already heading toward the unmarked police car. "I'm coming with you," he declared firmly.
"Stay here and confirm the suspect's identity," Hotch instructed the others.
Jack sped through the streets with sirens and lights blaring, turning them off only a few blocks from Schultzbach's house. Rossi sat tensely in the passenger seat, his jaw clenched.
"You knew Schultzbach?" Jack asked, concerned.
"Not well. But he was a good man with a distinguished career," Rossi replied. "We were in the same training camp—Russell Camp. Ever heard of it?"
"Yeah, the old Quantico shooting range that got shut down about ten years ago." Jack nodded, unsure how to continue the conversation. Both men knew deep down that the chances of finding Schultzbach alive were slim.
As soon as Jack parked in front of the house, Rossi jumped out and drew his weapon. Jack hurried after him, blocking his path to the front door.
"Easy, old man," Jack warned, raising a hand to knock. However, he hesitated and instead gave the door a push. It creaked open.
"We're too late," Jack murmured as a familiar stench hit his nostrils. He shielded Rossi as they entered and quickly found a decomposing corpse sprawled on the kitchen floor.
Though the body was severely bloated from days of decay, there was no mistaking the identity of the deceased—it was Ed Schultzbach.
Outside, the flashing lights of police vehicles illuminated the street as medical examiners carried Schultzbach's body out on a stretcher. Jack returned to the house and found Rossi in a small study, silently staring at a wall covered with framed awards, certificates, and photographs commemorating Schultzbach's career.
"He was a decorated agent," Rossi said, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes glistened under the overhead light.
Jack struggled to find the right words. Perhaps Schultzbach's death had stirred painful memories for Rossi. In this world, the risks of being an FBI agent were far greater than in Jack's previous life. Notifications of agents dying in the line of duty were tragically common.
"Looking back, maybe your decision to come out of retirement was the right call," Jack said, attempting to lighten the mood.
Rossi shot him a glare but then let out a bitter chuckle.
"You might be right. Retirement doesn't suit me. If I'm going to die, I'd rather it be in pursuit of a killer than alone in my own home."
"Keep talking like that, and I'll have to request you join my fugitive task force. I'll personally make sure you stay alive," Jack quipped.
"Let's discuss that when you're a supervisory agent and can actually call the shots," Rossi retorted with a smirk.
The thought of handling bureaucratic duties sent a shiver down Jack's spine. "Nah, I'm good. Valentine and I make a great team."
Jack preferred his current role, which gave him enough autonomy without drowning in administrative headaches. He had little interest in climbing the bureaucratic ladder. For him, freedom was paramount.
Money and power were essential tools for survival in this world, but Jack refused to let them become chains. He wanted neither wealth nor status to control him.
By the time the rest of the BAU team arrived, the situation had become clearer.
Inside Schultzbach's study, Reid pointed to a cluttered desk. "The suspect must have read through Schultzbach's journals and notes. That's how he was able to convincingly impersonate an FBI agent."
Hotch found an opened notebook. "Schultzbach volunteered at an organization called 'New Beginnings.' He helped reintegrate former inmates into society."
Garcia's voice came through on speakerphone. "The suspect has been identified: Andrew Meeks, 39 years old. He served 15 years for attempted murder and was released on parole last year. Schultzbach helped him get a security job at an office building downtown."
"Another 'farmer and the snake' story," Emily muttered angrily.
JJ pointed to the wall of accolades. "Meeks probably heard stories of Schultzbach's achievements and felt envious. That envy turned into a desire for control and power. Killing Schultzbach and posing as an FBI agent satisfied that craving."
"Garcia, what was Meeks' original crime?" Reid asked, sensing a deeper motive.
"His high school classmates played a cruel prank on him. A group of girls lured him to the gym, where bullies wrapped him in a gymnastics mat. He nearly suffocated," Garcia explained.
Reid's eyes widened in realization. "It all makes sense now. His killings were a form of symbolic revenge—reenacting his trauma by suffocating his victims. Impersonating an FBI agent gave him the respect and authority he'd always been denied."
(End of Chapter)
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