Sins of the Past

"The past is never where you left it." - Katherine Anne Porter

Prologue

The Past Returns

Location: Scenic Overlook, Williamsport, Pennsylvania.

Date: April 29th.

Time: Sometime around midnight.

"Donovan, these are the kids that found him."

The elder of the two detectives, Peter Donovan, exhaled heavily, running his thick fingers through his salt and pepper hair. His dark eyes spied the teenage couple shaking behind his partner; the girl sobbing openly, while her boyfriend looked like he would break into a million pieces if you breathed on him too hard. If he was a decent man, he would have hugged them, let them know they aren't responsible for what happened, for what they discovered. However, he's not a decent man, not by a long shot. He's a flawed man doing a flawed job.

"I swear...we...we di-didn't do-" the boy cuts himself off, dissolving into a fit of hiccups. "Don...don't arrest me!"

"You didn't do this, kid, get yourself together," Donovan sighed, placing a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. "What's your name?"

"The...Theon," he stammered, wiping snot from his face. "Theon Gallows. And this here is Rachael Jenkins, my girlfriend."

"Just let it out, Theon," he commanded, gripping his shoulder, showing the boy a kindness he rarely gifts to anyone. "What happened?"

The boy hiccuped again, his body quaking. "You...you won't tell my dad, will you?"

This time, it's the girl that pipes up. "Screw your dad, that guys is dead! We were just pulling in here to see the view and because we thought no one was around, we...we were gonna-"

"I was gonna use a condom!" Theon defends himself, causing the detective to chuckle slightly. "But then we saw some weird dude over at the bench, staring at us. So, I yelled at him and when he didn't respond, I went over to see what his problem was. That's when I realized he was just staring and he was dead. I didn't notice the bullet in between his eyes until it was too late."

Donovan nods, seeing that he story seems to add up with the evidence left behind. The boy shoved the body, that much was certain, but he was already dead when they got here and had been so for at least a few hours. Same as the four others before it, he thought to himself, inhaling heavily. Each one inching further and further up the East Coast, all former members of the task force put together to bring down-

No. Even now he refused to speak his name, he wouldn't give that sick bastard the satisfaction.

When he took the demotion to small town detective, he thought he was done with the international cases and the devastation the left in their wake. His marriage dissolved, the ex took their son and moved across the country, and all he had was his little job and a condo too empty and cold for his liking. And yet, here he was, still battling the same demons that his drinking couldn't make go away. With a quick hand, he dismisses the kids, who by this point had contacted their parents, and returned to the body.

They will probably process him as a John Doe, but Donovan knew exactly who he was, even after all these years. Jackie Boy Fitzgerald, or just Fritz to the boys, was the first one to turn on his boss when combined forces of I-1 and Interpol started getting close. He was an easy nut to crack and his employers knew it, hence why he was never trusted with the most important information, but he was still a started the ball rolling and once his intel ran dry, we tossed him into the witness protection program. Obviously, that wasn't enough to keep him safe, even after all this time.

"What are you thinking, Donovan?"

The voice snapped him back to reality. "I'm not liking this, Schmidt. Five bodies, same M.O., all connected to that damn case." He sighed once again, watching as Theon's father shook the boy a few times, before pulling him in for a hug. "We're gonna need the usual players once again. Baxter, Bannon, both McCalls, Chisholm-"

"The McCalls are dead," Schmidt replied flatly. "Bannon's been on babysitting duty for almost a decade and Baxter is retired."

"And Chisholm?"

"Missing...believed dead."

The string of obscenities that left his mouth startled the teens that had just started to calm down and brought all eyes to him, much to his cringe. He wasn't known for losing his cool; his stone cold personality preceded him, but this case was his trigger, so to speak. He raised his hand, sputtered out an apology, and put his head down on the fence keeping him from the cliff that lead to a nice drop into the valley of Williamsport.

At least if his world was going to spiral out of control, he was getting an amazing view beforehand.

"We need to get Interpol and I-1 back together," his hissed, leading Schmidt to nod in response. "Get anyone we can in on this or we are all dead. For all we know, Baxter is next and Bannon...he'll be hit harder than any of us."

"Bannon's been with the Quests for years now," Schmidt reminds him, moving closer as to not let those around them hear their conversation. "He cracked not long after this case, so it was only a matter of time before I-1 found someone to pawn him off on."

Donovan knew that Bannon's demotion from the top of I-1's agent pool wasn't just some pity job tossed his way after a few bad calls on the field, but was just what was needed before they found him running through the streets naked and waving a gun or worse, with that gun in his mouth and note near by. While this case had been the nail on the coffin for Donovan's family, this was the beginning of the end of Bannon's and everyone knew it. Although they tried to work things out, some things just weren't meant to be and Race Bannon needed to return to a simple life, one that could include his young daughter. The Quest job gave him exactly that.

"At least if Fritz had to go, he got a nice view before he went."

Williamsport, a large town in Central Pennsylvania, was laid out in the valley below them, completely unaware of the murder that has just been discovered. In the distance, the red and green lights of the famous Genetti Hotel acted as a beacon for the town, one of the few draws this place seemed to have, outside of hosting the Little League World Series every year. Otherwise, this was nothing more than another forgettable, small town between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. Of course, this brought up yet another issue in this case.

Why here?

From all accounts, Fritz was relocated to the west coast, in order to distance him from the usual players in the game, living it up in some small town in Oregon. As far as the bureau knew, he was living his life and soaking in the legalization of marijuana and women, not leaving the safety of his new life to return to the old one that nearly saw him killed. Now, he is just another breadcrumb left behind by a madman on a mission.

Bannon. He needs to be warned.