The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. –JRR Tolkien

SSA Aaron Hotchner studied the file in his hands, skimming the details and pictures before raising his eyes to Jennifer Jareau who waited in the doorway to his office.

"Five victims in two weeks? Why weren't we called in until now?" he asked.

"Local forces didn't make the connection until the second, third, fourth, and fifth victims were found together. The lab work showed that those four shared common wounds and tox screens as the first, and all five were found somewhere on the same property."

"Gather the team."

JJ nodded and walked out with her own copy of the file. When it had crossed her desk the day before, she knew that it required immediate attention, especially given the discrepancy of the victims.

Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Dr. Spencer Reid. Together with Hotch and JJ and their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, the team handled the worst cases the FBI had to investigate. Through their profiling skills, they tracked their unknown subjects and then raced to get a step ahead.

Within fifteen minutes, the members of the Behavior Analysis unit of the FBI were seated at the conference table, already reading through the copied files JJ had prepared and set out for them. She saw that Reid was already reading it through, page by page, with his finger marking a seemingly impossible speed. Morgan had begun laying out photos of the victims as they had been found, studying every detail. Prentiss had gone to the pages containing the reports surrounding the property owners involved in the case.

Hotch walked in and took his own seat, gesturing at JJ. "Let's get started."

JJ took the clicker in her hand and brought up several pictures of the victims provided by the families.

"Fifteen days ago, Montrose police were called to the Rosa Stables and Farm. One of the employees had found the body of Peter McCallister who had been missing for less than twenty four hours. McCallister is Caucasian, fifty nine years old; he was found with a contusion to his head and ketamine in his system. He was also stabbed post-mortem five times in the back. They thought it was an isolated event."

"Then the other bodies were found," Morgan broke in, looking at the relevant photos.

JJ nodded. "Right. Casey Rhodes, Nick Russell, Brian Carson, and Mack Hartford, six days ago. All four boys are also white and either twelve or thirteen years old. Due to their age, they were reported missing within hours after their parents dropped them off at the local park. They were found early the next morning, again, at Rosa Stables."

"Same manner of death?"

"Head contusions and ketamine, yes, but not the stabbing."

"So, on the one hand, we have an unsub who uses a blitz attack to subdue his victim, drugs to kill and then is filled with enough rage to stab the victim's body," Prentiss said.

"The unsub could be smaller, or not physically strong," Reid posited. "That could explain the blitz and the drugs."

"Or, he was somehow felt frightened of his victim," Morgan added. "Then after McCallister was dead, the fear turned into rage."

"Or, the drugs were only meant to incapacitate him and the victim died accidentally," Reid pointed out. "The unsub could have then been enraged that the death was out of his control and then acted on that."

"What about those boys, though?" Prentiss asked.

"No signs of sexual trauma," JJ read from the report. "Just an overdose of the drugs."

"Killed quickly, it almost seems impersonal," Hotch said.

"Now, if it weren't for the initial attacks and the drugs, would we even say this was the same unsub?" Morgan asked.

"All were found on the same property," Hotch answered.

"So, this must be a message to the owners," Morgan said. "Except for the stables being a dump site for the unsub, is there any other connection between the victims and the property?"

"McCallister rode and kept two horses there," JJ answered. "And two of the boys attended riding lessons, Casey and Brian."

"But not all of the boys?" Morgan asked for clarification.

"Just the two."

"We need to talk to the owners and find out why someone is trying to give them the message, and what that message is," Hotch concluded. "Wheels up in a half hour."

At Montrose Regional airport, the team was met by a detective and two officers.

"Detective Charles Parker," the man in plain clothes introduced himself to Hotch. "With me are Officers Mitchell and Delgado."

Hotch returned the favor as the teams mingled slightly.

"Officer Delgado can take anyone back to the station to get settled," the detective offered as the man nodded in agreement. "Ms. Jareau mentioned on the phone that you want to speak with the Rosa Stable owners?"

"Their stables are the main connecting factor between the victims so far," Hotch explained. "We need to figure out why they are being targeted."

Parker exchanged glances with the other officer as the two men engaged in a silent conversation. All the profilers noted the easy partnership between the three men and non-verbal communication.

"Mitchell will take you over," Parker finally turned back to the team.

Hotch glanced at his own team before splitting them up. "Prentiss, Reid and I will go with Mitchell. Morgan, go to each site where the bodies were found and JJ, get a feel for the kind of media attention we're likely to get."

The group divided between the two standard black SUVs and went their separate ways.

"The stables back up against the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park," Mitchell explained as they drove, Hotch riding next to him and Prentiss and Reid in the back. "So far, we think that's how he's been traveling to dump the bodies."

"Suggests a familiarity of the area," Reid spoke up from the back. "We could be looking for a local who knows the area well."

"What can you tell us about the owners?" Hotch asked.

"Rosa is owned by Roy Phillips," Mitchell explained. "He inherited from his father twenty years ago. Offers private boarding and lessons as well as public lessons. There are trails both on site and through into Gunnison."

"I understand some of the victims were riders at Rosa?" Prentiss asked.

"Yes. Peter had two horses with them and two of the boys took summer lessons."

"What else do you know about Phillips? Any enemies or complaints?" Reid asked.

"Not that I can think of. Roy lives on the property with his son, Tyler—his wife died about seven years ago. Also living with them is his niece, Juliet. She helps coordinate and teach the lessons."

"And your relation to them?" Hotch asked, noting the familiar way Mitchell spoke of these people.

Mitchell looked sharply at the profiler before turning his eyes back to the road. "Roy is my uncle."

Standing in the middle of the aisle of the main stable with the scent of hay, hair, and manure in the air as well as the soft sounds of horses in their stalls, Hotch noticed that Roy Phillips and Officer Mitchell shared many features in common, including the light brown eyes, straight noses, easy smiles, and dirty blond hair. Where the younger man kept neatly trimmed and clean-shaven per department protocols, Phillips was bearded, showing the handful of gray hairs coming. Both men were tall and solidly built. Where Mitchell wore his uniform, Phillips was dressed casually in jeans, a dark red button down shirt and camel colored jacket.

"Uncle Roy, these are the FBI agents," the officer introduced after the two had shared handshakes and half-hugs. "Agents Hotchner, Prentiss and Dr. Reid, this is Roy Phillips."

Hotch shook hands with the man, feeling the strong calluses of a working man.

"I hope you folks can get this bastard figured out," Phillips said fervently. "Peter was a friend and those boys were just kids. A little rambunctious, but good kids."

"That's what we hope to find out," Hotch agreed. "So far, we believe that this unsub is trying to send you a message."

"A message?"

"All five victims were found on your property."

"Is there anything significant in the exact locations where they've been found?" Prentiss asked.

"Peter was found in the grazing pasture," Phillips answered. "The boys were found together at the edge of the lesson paddocks. My niece found them."

"Is there anyone you could think of that has something to tell you?" Prentiss asked.

"I can't think of anyone who would resort to murder to tell me something," Phillips assured them. "I'm not a man who makes many enemies and we're all outspoken folk out here. Whenever someone's had a problem with me in the past, they've come out and told me to my face."

"Uncle Roy, what about that rider two exhibitions ago that took a fall?" Mitchell pointed out. "I think Juliet mentioned that he was blaming the staff for not clearing the arena properly and cost him the win that day."

Phillips eyed his nephew and the agents doubtfully. "You really think that man would kill Peter and the boys just to get back at me."

"With these unsubs, sometimes the smallest things can set them off. Do you remember his name?" Hotch asked.

"Jules should be able to find it in our records along with his contact information."

"That's a start. Anyone else? It doesn't matter how small the infraction seems to you."

"Fred Gibson," a new voice added.

The gathered group turned and saw the young woman walking toward them with sure steps. Though the blond hair was lighter in color and her eyes were hazel, her face showed enough resemblance to the men for the agents to assume she was Phillips' niece and Mitchell's sister, Juliet Mitchell. She was dressed for riding in jeans underneath black suede chaps, a long sleeved white tee shirt and a green plaid flannel vest.

"Now, Jules, Gibson is business and finished business at that," Phillips argued.

Juliet eyed the FBI agents carefully before turning her attention back to her uncle. "They asked for anyone with a grudge. You refused to sell out to that rat bastard three years ago. Maybe this is his way to get you to change your mind or just to tell you he's pissed off still."

The fire in her eyes told Hotch that the girl felt passionate about helping their investigation. The calm and confident manner in which she spoke to her uncle, brother and the agents told him that she was thoughtful and had considered their request quickly and already came up with another name for them.

"Tell us more about this man," Hotch said, directing the request to all three family members.

The officer grimaced. "He's a business man out from Seattle who wanted to buy the property for some renovation project. Came by and made an offer and Uncle Roy wouldn't even hear it."

"He was an insulting pig, treating me like a county bumpkin," Phillips added vehemently.

"Now, why didn't you think this man could be responsible?" Prentiss asked. "You obviously have a history and he has a reason to get back at you after you refused him."

"That man was an oily scumbag, make no mistake," Phillips said. "But he was so spit-shiny, city-bred, nose-up-in-the-air dealer who would never get his hands dirty. If he wanted to try and face me again, he'd do it with lawyers and red tape, not murder."

"Nevertheless, we'll add him to our suspect list and do full background check," Hotch ruled. "Now, if you could get us those other records we can get back to the station and put together a profile with the rest of our team."

"Jules, get me the name and contact information for that sore loser rider from April, would you?" Phillips asked.

"Sure. I'll make a copy right away."

"I'll go with," Reid offered, following the girl as she walked out of the stable, presumably to the adjacent and connected building that housed the office, front waiting room, and changing rooms.

"Another thing that we need to ask you is about your family history," Prentiss brought up with the two men. "No matter who our unsub is, you are still the person receiving these messages and the more we know about you and your family, the better we can figure out why you are being targeted."

Phillips looked to his nephew first. Officer Mitchell shrugged. "It's standard procedure, Uncle Roy. I'd be doing the same thing."

"Well, I guess you're curious about how our little family came together. Seems to be everybody else's first question."

"Officer Mitchell mentioned already that you live here with your son and niece and your wife passed seven years ago," Hotch summarized.

"John lived here, too, 'til he moved out," Phillips added. "My sister and her husband died when John was ten and Juliet was three—their car crashed one night coming home during a storm. Martha and I took them in, we had just had our son, Tyler. All the kids grew up here on the property, running around the pastures and fields and stables."

"I was just starting at the academy when Aunt Martha got sick," Mitchell continued. "Breast cancer. She died two years after that."

"Juliet and Tyler were still pretty young, but we got on as best we could after that. John finished at the academy and was able to get placed back here. Been a big help."

Hotch and Prentiss talked the two men through a typical day and a typical week, getting a sense for the usual routines of the stable and the family. Hotch almost forgot where he was until a nearby horse let loose a shrill whinny. He looked and saw Juliet and Reid walking to join them again. Reid startled visibly at the sound, looking jumpy and nervous.

"You afraid of horses, too?" Juliet asked with a hint of amusement.

At the questioning glances from the others, Reid muttered, "There was a cat in the office."

"Heather hissed at him," Juliet confided with a smile.

"Reid effect," Hotch and Prentiss confirmed in tandem.

While the two agents as well as Phillips and Mitchell fought back smiles, Juliet took another look at the uncomfortable profiler. Very decisively, she took Reid's arm, and to the confusion of the others, dragged him down the aisle, passing four stalls. She let go of Reid to use both hands to open the stall door, ignoring how Reid stiffened.

"First thing with horses, don't show that you're afraid or nervous. They're skittish and have strong flight-or-fight instincts," Juliet lectured, paying no attention to the baffled Hotch and Prentiss or her family. "Second thing is to always let the horse know where you are. They can see almost 280 degrees, so you're fine for the most part, but don't ever stand directly behind them."

Reid still hadn't moved or even relaxed since the stall door had opened. His attention was fixed on the 900 pound, 15.5 hands tall chestnut colored mare eyeing him speculatively. Juliet smiled and made soft clucking sounds at the mare, running her hands over the massive body before coming to the mare's head.

"This is Mahogany Dream, my Magda. I've been riding her since I was ten. She's patient and fairly tolerant and I can even loan her out to intermediate level students. She is also easily bribed."

Juliet demonstrated by running her nails along the mare's sensitive, velvet-like nose.

"I could do this for hours and she becomes putty in my hands. For you though, we need something a little more obvious."

As Reid continued to watch in silence and trepidation—and the others watched in either fascination or amusement, Juliet reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a handful of sugar cubes. No one missed the way the mare's ears pricked forward, though did not move forward as Juliet kept all but one cube in her fist and held out her remaining hand, palm up and her fingers flat with the sugar cube in the middle of her palm.

"See what I'm doing? With my hand like this, she can't nip at my fingers and she just uses her lips to grab at the treat and then crunch away."

Even Reid had to smile at the obvious enjoyment in the mare at the sugary treat.

"Your turn."

The profiler turned panicky again but Juliet took his hand firmly and shaped it to match her own from the moment before, placing a sugar cube in the center.

"Go on," she encouraged.

Under Juliet's warm smile and the slowly-becoming-astonished faces of his coworkers, Reid lifted his hand, flat as instructed within reach of Magda's mouth. The mare eagerly took the treat from his hand and crunched it quickly. Juliet laughed slightly as Reid backed away almost immediately, looking somewhat stunned at what he had just done.

"Maybe we'll get you riding while you're here," Phillips commented, beaming his own smile.

"Not likely," Reid muttered, but he wasn't standing as stiffly as before.

Juliet gave Magda one last scratch on her velvety nose before backing away and closing the stall door.

"Ready to go?" Prentiss asked Reid with a smirk.

"I've the records of the competitors as well as our victims who rode here," he answered.

Hotch glanced at the young woman. She shrugged, "Thought I'd give you those while I was copying."

"All right," he said. "We'll find Morgan and meet JJ at the station. Officer Mitchell, if you would?"

"Sure. Uncle Roy, I'll try to come back later tonight."

Mitchell, Hotch, Prentiss, and Reid all shook Phillips' hand in farewell, though Mitchell gave his sister a tight and quick hug before leading the way back to the SUV. As they left, Hotch saw Juliet being drawn into a hug with her uncle before the two parted ways.

If you have no desire to know the back story, feel free to skip this. For everyone else, here's what happened. This story I've probably been writing for almost seven years. Now before you start thinking this is some masterpiece in the making, let me explain. I've had this idea for that long, but it's hopped around a few different venues before landing here.

When I was first watching crime dramas, many years ago, I started with Law & Order: SVU. It didn't really fit, but I was much less of a writer then than I am today. Then I found CSI (the original) and it worked a little bit better, but not by much. Then, I discovered Criminal Minds and whoa, baby, did it take off from there. Suddenly, the characters fit, the process fit, and the dynamics snapped into place, you know?

So, that is how Stalk and Stable came to be. Now, I swore that I wouldn't begin to post this until it was finished, but I just really want to know what people think. I have six chapters written (postings will be once a week) and I don't project more than ten chapters total. Given the pace I've been setting lately, I should have enough time to complete this in time to keep the updates to the schedule.