48 Hours Mystery- For God's Will

Disclaimer - I own none of these characters and make no profit from this work.

Chapter 1

On this Saturday night, 8.6 million television sets across the United States were tuned to CBS. Everywhere, that is, except in one location.

At the Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas, Nevada, every television set in every common room had been unplugged.

The staff told the unsuspecting patients, including a former 15th-century literature professor named Diana Reid, that they were working to fix the problem.

The minute hand struck the top of the hour.

On 8.6 million screens, familiar words appeared:

Real People

Real Crimes

Real Life Mysteries

On their screens, the viewers saw a night sky, clouded over and devoid of stars.

The narrator's voice-over began.

"A serial killer was on the loose in rural Georgia."

The camera panned down to a barnyard dominated by the looming presence of a two-story barn, partially masked in ghostly shadows.

"The throats of his first two victims, Dennis and Lacy Kyle, had been slashed after a mysterious 911 call on Super Bowl Sunday."

Pictures of a relaxed and smiling Dennis and Lacy Kyle on vacation appeared on the screen.

"The local police wasted no time in calling in the FBI's elite Behaviorial Analysis Unit, the BAU. The team's seven members, including their technical analyst, quickly determined that a twisted desire for Biblical revenge was the motive behind the murder."

A highlighted page from the Book of Revelation dominated the screen.

"The hunt for a killing team was on, but no one could have foreseen the shocking and terrifying turn of events this manhunt would take. Before it was over, one woman would die the most grisly death imaginable, and another young woman, an FBI liaison officer, would narrowly escape the same horrible end."

A deserted rural cemetery, silvery under a moonlit night sky, appeared on screen.

"Finally, it would all end here. In a cemetery on a plantation in rural Georgia. On a bitterly cold night, a severely tortured young FBI agent, being forced to dig his own grave, would face down the demented serial killer who had kidnapped and tortured him.

What twists and turns of fate led to this desperate life and death struggle?"

The narrator and show's anchor appeared on the screen.

"I'm Peter Van Sant. Tonight on '48 Hours Mystery - For God's Will'."

Two months previous.

Reid felt as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of Strauss' office. His hand flew up to grip her desk, as a wave of the dizziness swept over him.

"Sit down, Agent Reid," Strauss said dryly. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse and a mannish gray suit. "This conversation is unlikely to get any better."

Strauss' brisk, businesslike, unemotional persona was on full display.

Meeting her steely gaze, Reid knew better than to expect empathy. He sat heavily in one of the no-nonsense chairs facing her desk.

"'48 Hours Mystery'?"

"It's a true crime documentary. On CBS," Strauss said.

"I know what '48 Hours Mystery' is," Reid said impatiently.

The misconception that he was clueless about popular culture had been carefully cultivated as he had become more socially aware. Lecturing him on the trivial always seemed to please others.

"What I can't comprehend," Reid continued, "is why the producers chose the Hankel case." It took every effort to sound detached, but the name of Hankel on his lips awakened something icy and slithery in his stomach.

"I couldn't say. You know the lurid details better than I do."

Reid wondered if Strauss was acting purposely offensive. He wouldn't put it past her. Maybe, in some perverse way, she thought it would keep him grounded.

It wasn't working.

The "lurid details" were hammering at his consciousness, wailing like banshees to be let in.

"The producers have been granted access to both the Georgia State police and our own FBI files under The Freedom of Information Act," Strauss went on after he failed to respond.

The icy, slithering thing stirred again.

"Everything that isn't censored, of course," she said pointedly.

Alarms jangled in the primal, survivalist part of his brain. What was actually in those files? What secrets did he mistakenly believe were buried?

"The entire team will be granted paid administrative leave for the interviews," Strauss was rambling on.

"You don't… You can't expect me to participate," Reid stammered, startled to attention.

"I do."

"I won't do it." The words echoed eerily in his mind. How could he? Beating back the repressed memories of his harrowing captivity and its violent brutality still continued to drain all his energy.

Strauss was unfazed. "There is an actor in Hollywood who is a dead ringer for you. They're ready to use him if you refuse."

"Let him."

"It's not a choice." Strauss' tone broached no argument. "The case is going to go public, and the Director wants to control the facts. He doesn't want a Hollywood version of this. He wants the FBI version."

"Why? My encounter with Hankel was hardly heroic." Reid tried to sound matter-of-fact. He'd done what he had to.

"That's not what the public will see. The official FBI line is that your survival was inspiring. I wouldn't be surprised if before the taping you are awarded a medal."

Reid saw no trace of humor in her expression.

"Dear God," he breathed. His genius mind raced through every possible avenue of escape and came up with nothing but dead ends.

"I wanted you to hear this before anyone else."

So you could get the maximum enjoyment out of telling me, Reid thought.

"God," he whispered again.

"The producers will be in touch with you," Strauss said. "Now if..."

"My mother!" Reid exclaimed. "My mother can never know about this. I never… She can never see it."

"Handle that as you see fit." Strauss leaned forward with what Reid supposed she thought was a sympathetic smile. "I know this was a traumatic experience for you. Naturally you don't want to relive it. But it was over a year ago." So get over it, her tone implied

One year, three months, 21 days, 12 hours. Ancient history to Strauss apparently. A palpable second ago to Reid. With his eidetic memory, it would always be a second ago.

Strauss stood up, signaling an end to the conversation.

Reid rose numbly. Inner demons shrieked so loudly, he didn't hear Strauss dismissing him.

Turning, he groped for the doorknob and burst blindly into the corridor. He didn't notice Hotch until the Unit Chief grabbed his shoulders to keep the two of them from colliding. Reid jerked free without looking up and stumbled away.

"Reid?"

Hotch watched as the young man almost tumbled down the steps to the bullpen, oblivious to the concerned looks and queries of his teammates.

Hotch whirled and charged into Strauss' office, anger burning dangerously in his eyes.

"What the hell did you say to him?" he demanded.