CHAPTER TWO
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 the clinical 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 project of yours, right?”
“It is, sir,” Miles said, noticing the slight roll of Hayes’s eyes.
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 you really believe 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 beyond odd?”
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."
Hayes studied Miles's face, seeing the conviction there alongside the professional restraint. Miles knew that his reputation was one that was built upon his habit of seeking out wild theories without basis. He just hoped Hayes could manage to see, just this one time, beyond the plain cut and dry.
"Agent Stone doesn't know about your theory," Hayes said slowly. "She's been working these cases from the field perspective, not the analytical angle you're taking."
"Which is exactly why I need to work with her," Miles said. "She has the investigative experience, and I have the scientific analysis. Together we might be able to see what neither of us could alone. And worst-case scenario, let’s say I’m completely wrong, we’d still be capturing killers from murder cases that have gone unsolved. ”
Hayes checked his watch again, clearly pressed for time. Miles hoped this might work to his advantage. "Stone's not easy to work with," Hayes warned. "She's used to operating independently, and she doesn't have much patience for theories that can't be proven in the field."
"I understand, sir."
"She's also protective of her cases. If you go out there, you'll be working under her lead, following her protocols. No freelancing, no pursuing your own agenda without her approval."
Miles nodded eagerly, baffled and overjoyed that it seemed to be working out for him. "I can work with those parameters."
Hayes stood up, signaling that the meeting was coming to an end. "Agent Stone has a reputation for being direct, Sterling. She'll tell you exactly what she thinks of your theory, and it might not be what you want to hear."
"I'm prepared for that, sir. The case she’s working on…what are the specifics?”
"Three murders, media attention, political pressure for quick results. If you go out there, you'll be walking into a pressure cooker."
"I understand the stakes, sir."
Hayes considered the request for another moment, weighing the potential benefits against the risks. Miles felt a load of tension settling onto his shoulders as he realized this moment might completely validate everything he’d been working on for the past three years.
Or, on the other hand, it could ruin it completely.