“I may not have been chasing serial killers for most of my career, but there are still tough scenes out there,” Gabe said. “Sometimes people just kill other people because they can. Not because of mystical thirteens.”

Ruby bristled.

“You don't have to buy in 100%, but can you at least respect that I caught a notorious serial murderer based on those kinds of leads?”

“Maybe you got lucky.” Gabe raised an eyebrow. Even he couldn't be that pompous, as the newbie, the transfer from across the country. He was testing her limits as much as the case was.

She clenched her teeth.

“Okay,” Gabe said, “if it makes you feel any better, this case has been a wakeup call. Maybe it's time to open up my mind.”

“You'll consider the possibility?”

There was a long pause between them. For a split second, Ruby thought he would reject her. He didn’t want to believe.

“Just because we’ve got matching patterns doesn’t mean Vallejo’s directly involved. Crime scene photos could’ve been leaked. You met Thorne, same as I did. If one loose cannon is willing to act out Vallejo's murder for kicks, somebody else out there can definitely be acting it out for real,” Gabe replied, “like the worst fan club in the world.”

“Welcome to the dark side,” Ruby drawled. “He had a following even before he was caught.”

“Oh, I haven't joined your band of crazy,” Gabe said. “I'm just admitting that your man Vallejo left a string of degenerate groupies in his wake.”

No one needed to tell her that. Even as the original thirteen murders were happening, blog posts poured out their support for Lucky Thirteen's creativity and artform.

“Why'd you come out here, Gabe? Why make the move from the Pacific North West to Quantico?” Ruby asked. “Not exciting enough out there in the woods?”

She eyed Gabe, watching for his non-verbal cues. His guard went up ever so slightly. If the problem was professional, it was something Ruby would be able to look into, but she didn’t think it was that. Something else drew him across the country.

“I was tired of the rain,” he replied.

Ruby raised an eyebrow, prompting a further response out of him.

“I had a friend who worked for the Bureau,” Gabe replied. “Her name was Megan York. She was a profiler. We were really good friends, went out for a while, before I joined the military.”

“I'm sorry,” Ruby said. There was something in his tone that said something bad had happened, even if he didn't put real words to it. The tragedy was all over his body language.

“It was a long time ago,” Gabe said, “and she told me to join the FBI in the first place, said I'd like D.C. in the spring.”

“It is nice in the spring,” Ruby agreed.

Gabe leaned back in his chair.