"My God, Miles." Elena stood up and moved closer to the wall chart. "How many more have you found?"
"Eleven total. The most recent was oxygen in Boston just two months ago." Miles pointed to element eight on the chart. "Buthere's what really convinced me—in every single case, the killer demonstrated an advanced understanding of chemistry. These aren't random poisonings or accidents. Someone is working their way through the periodic table deliberately, using each element as both a murder weapon and a signature." He took a breath to collect his thoughts. “And yes, it could be acrazycoincidence, but I highly doubt it. Not in this order, and not using these exact chemicals.”
Elena absorbed this information, her pharmaceutical background helping her understand the technical complexity of what Miles was describing. "The knowledge required to pull this off... it's not something you could just look up online."
"Right. We're talking about someone with serious scientific training. Maybemultiplesomeones." Miles returned to his desk and pulled out a map marked with colored pins. "Look at the geographical spread. These crimes span the entire country over a three-year period. That suggests either incredible mobility or multiple perpetrators working together."
"A group of people," Elena said slowly.
Miles nodded grimly. "I know how it sounds. I know I probably come across like some kind of conspiracy theorist connecting random dots. But the evidence is there, Elena. The chemical signatures, the timing, the precision—these deaths are connected. I’m certain of it now."
Elena studied his face, seeing the conviction there alongside the exhaustion. Miles had always been thorough in his work, but this project had consumed him in ways that went beyond professional interest. She'd watched him scour these files for months, staying up late to analyze data and cross-reference cases that other investigators had already closed.
"You need to present this to your boss," she said finally. "Hayes, right? If you're right about this, it's bigger than anything you can handle alone."
"Assistant Director Hayes," Miles confirmed. "And you're right. If there really is a group out there killing people according to some twisted periodic table scheme, the FBI needs to know about it." He paused, looking at the documents spread across his desk. "I just hope I can make them see what I'm seeing. And, of course, if Iamwrong on this, I don’t know that I’ll ever hear the end of it."
Elena reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Your analysis is solid, and the pattern is undeniable once you know what to look for. Hell, even I could follow it and I don’t know what you’re talking about half the time. Besides, if anyone can make a convincing case for a complex scientific conspiracy, it's you."
Miles smiled at her, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. Elena had a way of grounding him, of helping him see past his own obsessions to the bigger picture. Her belief in his work meant more than she probably realized.
"Thank you," he said, covering her hand with his. "For listening, for believing me, for not telling me I've completely lost my mind." He laughed softly and added, “And for putting up with this obsession for the past several years.”
"Well, the jury's still out on the completely losing your mind part," Elena said with a grin. "But your detective work is impressive, even if some of the chemistry goes over my head.”
“Eh, but you work with molecular structures all day, and most of that is completely overmyhead. And I guess that’s what makes us a good team," Miles said. "And that’s why I can’t wait to be married to you six months from now.”
Elena kissed him softly and glanced toward the doorway. "Speaking of planning for the future…dinner is definitely cold by now. But I suppose that's a small price to pay for a breakthrough like this."
Miles looked at his desk, then back at Elena. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could step away from the work without losing his train of thought. The pattern was clear now, documented and organized in a way that others would be able to understand. The obsession that had driven him for so long was finally taking concrete shape.
"Let me save this and back everything up," he said, turning to his computer. "Then I'm all yours. And Elena?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry about dinner. About all the dinners I've missed while working on this."
Elena leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "Make it up to me by helping to catch these people," she said. "Because if you're right about this, they need to be stopped."
Miles nodded, his fingers already moving across the keyboard as he began organizing his findings into a presentation that might convince Assistant Director Hayes to take the case seriously. But in the back of his head, a small seed of doubt still festered. What if he was wrong? What if he had wasted all of this time and effort only to be further mocked and maybe even ridiculed at work.
He supposed there was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER TWO
Assistant Director Marcus Hayes's office occupied a corner of the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico. As a quiet man who preferred to stay away from commotion, his door was usually closed. When Miles approached that closed door the following morning at 9:15, he knocked twice before entering. There was a thick folder tucked under his arm.
When Miles stepped inside, Hayes looked up from a stack of reports, his steel-gray eyes conveying the controlled impatience of a man whose day was already running behind schedule. His office windows offered a view of the training grounds where new agents learned to navigate the complexities of federal law enforcement. The space reflected Hayes's military background in its austere functionality—a mahogany desk positioned at a precise angle, filing cabinets arranged with geometric precision, and walls adorned with commendations and photographs that chronicled his rise through the ranks. At fifty-five, Hayes had maintained the ramrod posture of his Marine Corps days, his graying hair still regulation length, his suits pressed to knife-edge perfection.
"Sterling," Hayes nodded, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "You said you had something urgent to discuss. I've got about ten minutes before my next meeting, so let's get to it."
Miles always appreciated Hayes’s candor. He wasn’t one for bullshit or wasting time; he always preferred to get straight to the point. Miles settled into the chair, immediately aware of how different his demeanor became in professional settings. At home with Elena, he could ramble through his theories with passionate enthusiasm. Here, facing Hayes's no-nonsense authority, he felt the need to present his findings with theclinical precision that had earned him his reputation at the FBI Laboratory Division.
"Sir, I've uncovered what I believe to be a pattern connecting multiple unsolved deaths across the country," Miles began, opening his folder and extracting a series of photographs. "Over the past three years, I've identified eleven cases that share certain characteristics; specifically, each death involves a method of killing that corresponds to an element on the periodic table."
“This is that…that uh,personal projectof yours, right?”
“It is, sir,” Miles said, noticing the slight roll of Hayes’s eyes.
