Hayes leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral but attentive. Miles had worked under him for nearly five years, and Hayes had learned to respect the younger man's analytical abilities, even when his theories pushed the boundaries of conventional investigation. Miles was thorough, methodical, and had an uncanny ability to spot connections that others missed. Some of his colleagues in the past had often referred to his talents as “creepy.” He was also prone to becoming obsessed with cases that defied easy explanation.
"Walk me through it, then," Hayes said, checking his watch.
Miles opened his folder and arranged the photographs in chronological order across Hayes's desk. "It starts with hydrogen cyanide poisoning in Detroit, 2021. It’s an extremely pure compound, delivered through a sophisticated mechanism that suggests advanced chemistry knowledge. Then helium asphyxiation in Portland, using industrial-grade gas with a purity level that's not commercially available."
He continued through the cases, pointing to each photograph as he explained the chemical evidence. "Lithium poisoning in Phoenix, beryllium exposure in Denver, boron contamination in Seattle. Each case uses a different element, but they're following the periodic table as a means of murder in sequence."
Hayes studied the photographs, his expression growing more skeptical with each explanation. "Sterling, you're talking about cases from different jurisdictions, different time frames, different victim profiles. What makes you think they're connected beyond the fact that chemicals were involved?"
"The precision, sir. In every case, the killer demonstrated expert knowledge not just of chemistry, but of how these elements interact with human physiology. The dosages were exact, the delivery methods were sophisticated, and the crime scenes were staged to misdirect local investigations. Plus, we’re talking about a killer who would have to know how to obtain and then handle these elements."
"Staged by whom, exactly?" Hayes asked. "You're suggesting what? A single perpetrator traveling the country? A conspiracy?"
Miles felt his confidence wavering under Hayes's steady gaze. "I think we're looking at a group, sir. Possibly a cult of some kind, working together to carry out these murders according to some predetermined plan."
Hayes set down the photographs and leaned forward. For a split second, his expression was difficult to read. "A cult, Sterling? You're asking me to believe that there's a group of chemically-trained killers working their way through the periodic table just as a means of killing people?”
"I know how it sounds," Miles said quickly. "But the evidence supports the connection. The timeline, the methodology, the increasing sophistication of the attacks—"
"The evidence supports the fact that people have died from chemical exposure," Hayes interrupted. "That's not the same thing as proving a coordinated conspiracy. You're taking isolated incidents and forcing them into a pattern that might not exist."
Miles felt his breakthrough slipping away, the certainty he'd felt the night before crumbling under Hayes's skepticism. "Sir,with respect, I've been tracking these cases for three years. The connections are there if you look at the complete picture."
Hayes studied Miles's face with the eyes of a man who had seen agents become too invested in particular theories come and go. It was a dangerous trap in investigative work—the tendency to see patterns where none existed, to connect dots that were better left unconnected.
"Sterling, you're a good analyst,” he finally said. “One of the best I've ever worked with, if I’m being completely honest. But you're also prone to overthinking cases that have simpler explanations." Hayes gathered the photographs and handed them back. "These deaths occurred in different states, under different circumstances, with different victim profiles. Sometimes chemical exposure is just chemical exposure."
"But sir—"
Hayes held up a hand. "But I do have to admit that you present a compelling case. If youreallybelieve there's something here, there's someone you should talk to. Agent Victoria Stone worked three of these cases you're referencing—the Portland helium case, the Denver beryllium exposure, and the Seattle boron contamination. She's been with Violent Crime for thirteen years and has more street experience than anyone in this building."
Miles straightened in his chair. He knew Stone by reputation, though they'd never worked together directly. Special Agent Victoria Stone was a legend in the Violent Crime Unit, known for her tenacity and her willingness to push boundaries when conventional methods failed. She'd built her career on gut instincts and shoe-leather detective work, closing cases that others had written off as unsolvable. Her methods were sometimes unorthodox, but her results spoke for themselves.
"So you’re okay if I speak with her about this?”
“Yes. But I can’t guarantee that she’ll hear you out. Also, she’s not here at the moment.”
"Where is she?" Miles asked.
"San Francisco," Hayes replied, glancing at his computer screen. "She’s working a case that came in yesterday. Some lunatic is gilding his victims in actual gold. Three deaths so far, all high-profile financial types who've been coated in molten gold and left on display. She’s out there in charge of a few agents from the field office."
Miles felt his pulse quicken. "Gilding victims in gold?"
"Apparently it's quite the spectacle," Hayes said dryly. "The media's having a field day with it. Stone's been assigned to work with the local task force."
"Sir, that's element seventy-nine," Miles said, his voice urgent. "Gold is atomic number seventy-nine on the periodic table."
Hayes looked up sharply. "What are you saying?"
"If my theory is correct, if there really is a group working through the periodic table, then they've skipped ahead to gold. That would represent a significant escalation in their methodology." Miles leaned forward, his excitement building. "Sir, I need to get to San Francisco. If this is connected to the other cases—"
"Hold on," Hayes said, his tone cautious. "You're making a pretty big logical leap here. A killer using gold doesn't automatically connect to your periodic table theory."
“Okay, so tell me, then. When have you ever heard of this exact same scenario? Doesn’t it seem beyondodd?”
To this, Hayes said nothing.
"It fits perfectly," Miles insisted. "The sophistication, the chemical knowledge required to work with molten gold, the symbolic nature of the element choice—it's exactly what I've been trying to convince you of."
