Ryzen, p.1
Ryzen, page 1
part #3 of Federal Protection Agency Series
RYZEN
FEDERAL PROTECTION AGENCY
BOOK THREE
EVE RILEY
CONTENTS
Ryzen
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Preview
Other Books By Eve
Follow Eve
About Eve Riley
Ryzen
Federal Protection Agency
Book Three
Copyright © 2022
Eve Riley
ISBN: 978-1-77357-432-5
978-1-77357-433-2
Published by Naughty Nights Press LLC
Cover Art By Willsin Rowe
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as "unsold or destroyed" and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.
No part of this book may be adapted, stored, copied, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
RYZEN
True evil lurks in the darkness…
Recruited at eighteen by the CIA, Ryzen is one of the best snipers in the world. Now, he’s working with the Federal Protection Agency to aid them in their fight to track down the vile people who perpetuate crimes against children. Always hidden behind his dark sunglasses, Ry is a mystery to everyone and he prefers it that way.
Ry remembers Knox from when he had his psych evaluation, and that the profiler’s report was what resulted in his discharge from the CIA. He’s not impressed with the man, and even more disturbed by the way he makes Ry feel.
A profiler with the FBI, Knox Hunter is investigating a series of murders. The victims are all male, between twelve and fourteen, and all have the same MO. With the Mayor pushing for re-election, a report of a serial killer could jeopardize the campaign’s success, so Knox is sent in to work with the FPA to try and close the case, fast and by any means necessary. The only problem is, Knox is an office man, not a field man, and this new path could be the most dangerous one of his entire career.
Will Ry be able to keep Knox safe while they track down and put away this serial killer, or is he destined to be the biggest threat—to Knox’s heart?
CHAPTER 1
Knox
“We found him. He was dumped in a dumpster along Plank Road in between the twelve hundred and thirteen hundred blocks. A shop owner found him roughly an hour ago. I got a crime scene heading there, now, and local PD has the scene blocked off.”
That would be my boss, Special Agent in Charge Greg Mathers. He was a short and stocky man, but that was only to fool you. The man looked like a short Santa Clause, making you believe he would be jolly and a fun elf. In reality, he was a mean son of a bitch that ran his unit with an iron fist. If you got on his bad side, well, let’s just say you better start praying, whether you believe in a God or not.
I, thankfully, had never been on his bad side. I did my job and I did it to the best of my ability. As a FBI Profiler, my whole job was to analyze people, criminals mostly, and study their behavior. It was on me to find killers, sex offenders, arsonists, and any number of other dangerous felons to get them off of the street and into prison where they belonged. I loved my job and I was one of the best profilers in the country. I knew that fact was the only thing saving my ass from getting tossed overboard by my boss.
For the past three months, I had been working on the same case. Three months of me trying to find one single person in a city of just over two hundred thousand. It sounds insane, but when you are used to finding one single person in an entire country, it really should be nothing. I was one of the best profilers, I had all of the accommodations and solve rate to prove it.
So why the hell couldn’t I find this son of a bitch?
I was working on a series of murders with the victims between the ages of twelve and fourteen. All were male. All had been kidnapped and tortured. No signs of sexual assault, so it wasn’t a pedophile kidnapping and killing young teenage boys. They were all grabbed and killed within seventy-two hours before being dumped. There were now twelve victims. My killer had a one week timeframe, so not much of a cooling off period. We had a serial killer in Baton Rouge, and it was one targeting young teenage males, putting close to fifteen thousand kids at risk of being kidnapped.
I was spinning my wheels with this case. There didn’t appear to be anything connecting the twelve victims. They didn’t go to the same school. They didn’t go to the same church. They were all with different religions and extracurricular activities. Some came from a perfect, two parent household, and others were in foster care. Different dentists, different doctors, different areas of the city. They didn’t look the same. Nothing was the same. It was as if the killer was going out of his way to pick the most random kids possible. And even then, it wasn’t random. He wasn’t grabbing the kids at the first available opportunity. He was watching them and learning their patterns. He knew when to strike and grab them so he wouldn’t be seen. He wasn’t caught on camera at the abduction site or the dumping site. The dumping was always in a dumpster, but in a city this size, it wasn’t like we could stake out each dumpster.
My boss was frustrated, but so was I.
“I don’t want to admit this, but I have nothing. I have no idea who he is or how he is connected to them. I’m spinning my wheels on this one, Boss. We really need to tell the public. These kids need to be warned. Their parents need to be warned.”
You would think with now twelve murdered boys that it would be all over the media. It wasn’t. The Mayor had issued a gag order to all media outlets to not report what had been happening. Nowhere in the press would you be able to hear or read about these boys.
At least, not yet.
I had done that before in other cities when I traveled to help local law enforcement with solving their cases. Sometimes it was better to not report the crimes. For two reasons, the first, it makes the unknown subject, or UnSub as we call them, think they are safe and no one is looking for them. With that perception of safety, they keep making mistakes, and they don’t run, so we can grab them. The second, a lot of the time these UnSubs like the attention they get from the media. They want to be known, they want to go down in history. By stopping that from happening, they get angry and they make a mistake.
That’s wasn’t the case here, though.
Nope, the Mayor was up for re-election and what does not get you re-elected is broadcasting about a serial killer that targets young males and had been killing and torturing them for three months, now. That didn’t look good on a campaign poster, and like a true politician, she was opting for saving her own ass and not the people she is supposed to serve.
“You know that won’t happen. The Mayor is not going to lift the gag order, so I suggest you find out who this son of a bitch is. This is the only case you are going to be working and you won’t be working it alone.”
“I appreciate the offer of help, Boss, but too many profilers in one kitchen is not a good idea.”
It wasn’t that I was against working a case with someone. The opposite in fact, I loved working with different law enforcement. What I did not love was working with other profilers. As a profiler, your job is to analyze everything, it’s programmed into your mind. We all tend to have a degree in Behavioral Science, putting us within the psychologist category. We examine every word, movement, or look that someone gives, and we evaluate them based on that.
And I do mean everyone.
I did it just this morning with my Barista who kept eyeing her co-worker when he wasn’t looking. She liked him and he had no clue.
A typical man in that sense.
But everywhere I go, my brain is always on, just like most profilers. Which is exactly the problem with working with them. They analyze your every movement, look, and word spoken. They over-analyze every tiny detail and when you get more than one in a room, it becomes a debate on everything. They always think they are right and everyone else is wrong. I don’t have that issue. I have no problem with brainstorming and seeing what puzzle pieces we can put together, but it’s exhausting having to play referee in a room full of grown ass adults.
“I didn’t say you were working with other profilers on this. There’s a new Agency in town. They got here about a month ago. They have made a name for themselves within the community already. The Federal Protection Agency, they focus on crimes against children. They have put an end to an enormous human trafficking ring, have cleaned up the foster care system in parts of Maryland, and they have been working closely with DCFS to help clean up the foster care system here and try and locate kids that have been scoop ed up by the human traffickers. They have already started to generate reputation in the community for being able to stop criminals that go after children. The team has been given immunity by the Governor of Maryland, who then, had it transferred over here in an agreement with our Governor. If there’s anyone that can get this case solved, and quietly, it’s them.”
I had heard about the small waves the FPA had been making since they got into town. It never bothered me that they were here, but I knew some of the other Feds had an issue with it. They didn’t like that the Agency was made up of Feds and local police from out of state. From what I had heard, they also had a couple private detectives that worked with them as well. It was random people put together, but it was somehow working. They had been able to do some good since getting here.
Still, I wasn’t certain on the keeping it quiet part.
They had immunity, which meant they didn’t have to answer to the Mayor. They could do whatever they wanted, scream about the murders from a rooftop, should they think it was best. Their immunity protected them from a gag order.
But then, maybe that was Mathers’ point.
Take the case to someone that didn’t have to play politics. Someone that could blow it wide open to the public and maybe force my UnSub to be smarter. Either way, I was good with the offered help.
“I’ll head over there with my case files. I want to go to the scene first and make sure it is secured.”
“Make sure you stay within the perimeter and if you need to leave it, you have an officer with you.”
“Copy, Boss,” I easily agreed.
He headed out and I quickly grabbed all of my case files for all twelve victims. I would need to add to this victim’s file, but I could do that in the car once I visited the dump site. With everything set, I headed out for my car. With being a profiler my job was mostly in the office. It wasn’t very often I would go to a crime scene or chase after a suspect. Sometimes, I would go to the scene to get my own view of it, but most of the time I could go off of the photos and videos taken by the lead detective.
Whenever a victim or a loved one of the victim needed to be spoken to, they mostly came into the station where I was working at the time. It wasn’t often I had to go out to them. I wasn’t a field agent. I didn’t have a gun. I didn’t have any formal combat training. I was the brains of the operation and not the muscle, and that was perfectly fine with me.
I worked out to stay in shape. Working out was my stress relief. It helped to go the gym and clear my mind when I was stuck on a case. So, physically it looked like I could fight, but honestly, I had never thrown a single punch before in my life. That wasn’t the life that I had, even when I was younger.
My parents were great people. It was just the three of us so I didn’t have any older brothers I had to fight against. We lived in a good area. I went to a private school and played on the chess team. I went to Harvard with a full scholarship for my Behavioral Science Degree.
I had a really good life growing up.
A life that didn’t involve violence or pain.
I knew I was one of the lucky ones and I never took it for granted, especially since I had been working as a profiler for the past fourteen years. The greatest weapon I had was my mind and I didn’t see the need to end a situation with more violence, not if I could talk the UnSub down.
Once I arrived at the scene, I parked my vehicle in the area of the other patrol cars and climbed out. I could already see the locals gathering around to watch the scene unfold. It was a common occurrence with crime scenes.
The human mind always wants to learn and know information. When someone is killed or even when the police show up, everyone is always looking out their windows to see what is going on. Part of human nature was being nosy and gossiping. Something like this would be talked about for a couple of weeks, at least.
The area itself was a mixture of old businesses and rundown homes that had been converted into one or two apartments. The area was in the higher crime rate within the city. They weren’t strangers to police cars in the streets and I knew the prostitutes and drug dealers would be laying low for the next couple of days until the police presence disappeared. Then they could go back to making money.
What I also knew, though, was no one would talk. There would be no witnesses, not even when you told them it was a young teenage boy. They didn’t talk in this area, too controlled and afraid of the gangs that would kill anyone who dared to speak to a cop or a Fed.
“Special Agent Hunter,” I said as I helped up my badge as I walked onto the crime scene.
“Who is in charge of the scene?” I glanced around at the local PD officers standing around the area.
“That would be me, Detective Jonah West with Homicide. What can I do for you, Special Agent?”
“The FBI have been working a case and your victim is connected to an ongoing investigation that I have been running. The FBI will take over the case. I would appreciate it if you could send me your notes and any of the crime scene photos.”
“Look, I got no problem sharing, but I’m not about to hand over this case fully to you. That’s a twelve year old boy in that dumpster. Someone left him there like trash after torturing him. I’m not going to hand it over to anyone, Fed or not.”
It was always hard to convince local law enforcement to give up a case, especially when it involved children. I could tell he had a child, probably a boy around the same age. The passion within him was not going to go away overnight. This would be a case he was going to keep a close eye on and make sure it got solved. I understood that and I completely respected it.
“I understand you don’t want to give this case up. However, I have jurisdiction over you. If necessary, I can very simply call your boss and order it be handed over. I can’t tell you about an ongoing investigation, however, I can tell you that I will be working with the Federal Protection Agency to get this case solved. We will get who did this and they will go to jail for the rest of their natural life. And I promise you, I will keep you updated and informed throughout.”
I didn’t want to have to pull rank. Pulling rank always left a bad taste in my mouth and it did nothing to help improve working relations with local police. However, I also couldn’t allow him to work this case and potentially release information that was under the gag order. I also wasn’t convinced it would be ideal to broadcast that we had a serial killer. I wasn’t certain which direction this UnSub would go if he was dragged out into the light. I needed to figure him out more first.
“I’ll make sure everything gets sent your way,” he said in a tight voice.
“Thank you, Detective West. I truly appreciate it,” I offered, flashing him a warm smile.
The Detective ignored me and turned on his heel, walking away.
Well, I wasn’t making a new friend out of him, but at least I had control of the case. Once I finished up here, I would make my way to the new Agency’s field office and, hopefully, we would finally be able to get something on this case to bring us closer to our UnSub.
The clock was already ticking on the next victim. If we didn’t want another kid to die, we had seven days to stop this killer.
I just hoped we would make it in time.
