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back to being the boy he’d been before the incident. If Jesse Tyson were anything like Frazer, the events of last night would shape the entire course of his life.
    Was that destiny?
    If so, destiny sucked. Frazer relished his job, but he’d swap it in a heartbeat to change the past. He thrust the thoughts away. He rarely thought about his parents’ murder. He honored their memory by remembering how they lived not how they died, by catching killers and making sure they couldn’t hurt anyone else again.
    The sight of the CSU tech picking up a young woman’s panties scratched at something small and scarred inside his mind. He pushed it away. Sentiment didn’t solve crimes. Logic and meticulous investigation did. The fact dangerous predators often operated in the same passionless state as he did, wasn’t lost on him. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the emotions; he just tucked them off to one side while he did his job—and did his best never to revisit them.
    Emotional objectivity was something he tried to drum into the other agents who worked in his unit, especially his friend, fellow agent Jed Brennan who’d helped him catch his first serial killer amongst the chaos of war in Afghanistan. Bottom line was if they got emotionally involved in all their cases, they’d have to swap their suit jackets for something in white with much longer sleeves.
    The faces of victims already kept him awake at night. It was a short trip to burnout and he didn’t intend to take that road. He could live with nightmares, he just couldn’t deal with heartache.
    The cry of a gull jerked him back to the present. Isolated beach. Outer Banks. Day One of a murder investigation. Check.
    Another agent approached and Frazer went down to meet him.
    FBI Agent Lucas Randall was based out of the Charlotte Field Office and Frazer had met him during the Meacher case. He was ex-military, eyes both sharp and weary. If he was surprised to see the head of BAU-4 standing here he hid it well.
    “ASAC Frazer.” Randall held out his hand. “Glad you could make it.”
    “Agent Randall.” Frazer nodded as they shook. “Is the bracelet genuine?” The bracelet was the game changer. The reason he was here.
    “Looks it.” Randall pulled the bag from his pocket and handed it over.
    Frazer examined the chain through the clear plastic. Thick stainless steel links and a solid looking tag with a phone number stamped on it. A list of alerts. Sand was encrusted in some of the overlapping links, the hint of rust and decay discoloring the metal. It looked as if it had been in the sand for a long time, but the girl had been killed less than twelve hours ago.
    Convicted serial killer Ferris Denker had confessed to murdering Beverley Sandal seventeen years ago. So how the hell had her bracelet ended up on a fresh corpse?
    “It was the only thing the victim, Helena Cromwell, had on when they found her. Her father knew it wasn’t hers, and the local Chief of Police bagged it. But his son is the kid in intensive care, so he had uniforms secure the scene and CSU work it, then he called me. Girl’s body is in the morgue of the local hospital awaiting transportation to the nearest Medical Examiner’s Office.”
    “You know the chief personally?”
    Randall squinted against the slicing wind. “We served together in the Army years ago and stayed in touch.” Randall had a reputation for being good at his job and being easy to work with. Whatever people said about Frazer, it wouldn’t be that he was easy to work with.
    But with Randall’s involvement and his connection to Rooney, they’d caught a break in keeping a lid on this situation. Frazer intended to use it.
    “I want the ME to come here to conduct the preliminary exam.” He frowned. “Actually, tell them I want Simon Pearl to do this personally. Call them. Persuade them. He can call me if he wants to. Also I want blood and tissue taken from the vic, ASAP. Toxicology can look for date rape drugs and alcohol