Chapter 1162: Damn That Cruel Fate

Jack stood by the hallway vending machine in the precinct, purchased two bags of chips, and handed them to JJ. “Take these to the interrogation room, then bring Colonel Barnes to the observation room next door.”

A few minutes later, Jack entered the interrogation room holding the evidence box Hannah had brought back. He glanced at the little girl sitting there, still wearing an innocent smile as she munched on chips. Then he turned his gaze to the one-way mirror—he couldn’t see into the adjacent room, but he knew there were many people standing silently on the other side, including one utterly broken father.

JJ stood in the corner, arms crossed, her face torn by complicated emotions—pity, sympathy, disgust, and even a flicker of fear.

Although she and Jack were both certified as BAU behavioral analysts, they had essentially come into the field laterally. Their time in the unit had been short before they were poached to New York. Jack often called himself half a psychologist at best, and JJ wasn’t much different. With much of her time spent on administrative tasks, her exposure to practical cases was far more limited than Jack’s.

Jack placed the evidence box on the table, sat down across from Rachel, and kept his eyes locked on her face the entire time.

Valerie Barnes and Ryan Barnes had been a golden couple—both talented and attractive. Their only daughter, Rachel, had inherited all of their best features. Blonde hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin—she was the kind of angelic beauty that made people say, “This is why people want to have daughters.”

Some tragedies are inevitable, as if fate were playing a cruel joke. She had been born with the appearance of a pure angel—but beneath that façade lay something far more chilling.

Jack sighed inwardly and tapped a finger on the evidence box. “It’s over, Rachel.”

The little girl paused, brushed chip crumbs from her hands, and tilted her head in confusion. “I don’t understand what you mean, Agent Tavola.”

Jack opened the box. Inside lay a Colt .38 revolver, still dirt-streaked. “My colleague dug this up in your backyard—from beneath the fort your dad built for you.”

The innocent look vanished from Rachel’s face like a mask being stripped away, replaced by something cold and eerie.

Jack couldn’t quite describe the chill that ran through him. It was like rummaging through a dusty basement and suddenly finding a cracked porcelain doll from childhood—its smile crooked, one eye missing—and hearing an old music box creak to life in the dark.

“I didn’t have time to bury it deeper,” she said calmly. “I had to get back before Mr. Curtis noticed I’d slipped out of the house.”

Jack had seen many confessions over the years, each with its own flavor—remorse, anger, numbness. But this… a child, barely ten, with a baby-soft voice and cherubic features, speaking about murder like it was nothing—this was another level of unsettling.

Behind him, JJ instinctively hugged herself tighter. Jack worked hard to keep his own face neutral.

“Keep going,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Don’t look at me like that—it’s disgusting. You remind me of my mother,” Rachel said, casting a scornful glance at JJ.

“She used to look at me that way, talking about wanting to help me. She said she was sending me to some damn special hospital in Montana for treatment. I don’t need help. I hate that look. I hated her. I hate you.”

“But you don’t hate your dad, right?” Jack knocked lightly on the table to draw her attention back to him.

“Of course not. He was under her spell. But when he was home, everything was wonderful.” Her face softened into a sweet smile, as if she were recalling a cherished memory.

“So you hurt yourself to bring him home?” Jack asked.

Rachel rolled her eyes, as though the question were beneath her. “Sometimes it worked. But not long enough. Never enough.”

“So your mom became the obstacle. If she were gone, you and your dad would never be apart. Is that it?”

“She made that choice. She forced my hand. Getting rid of her was the best solution. Just like Mr. Curtis’s wife—after she died, he had to come home and stay with little Rogers.”

Rachel spoke of her mother’s death with a chilling indifference, as if she were discussing a broken toy or a canceled vacation.

“You told your dad all this last night, didn’t you?” Jack finally understood Barnes’s erratic behavior.

“Of course. He didn’t get it at first, but who cares? He’ll come around. He’s mine.” She smiled proudly. “I’m his little girl.”

When Jack said nothing, Rachel shrugged and resumed crunching her chips.

——

When Jack and JJ entered the observation room, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Despite the crowded space, everyone wore the same look—as if they’d spent the evening watching a horror film they couldn’t shake off.

Jubal cleared his throat and gestured for everyone to clear out. “Let’s give Colonel Barnes some space.”

Jack’s eyes scanned the room until he spotted the man in the corner—Ryan Barnes, hunched in on himself, knees pulled to his chest. A Navy SEAL, a warrior, now sat hollow-eyed, tears silently streaming down his face, as helpless as a child.

“Fate can be damn cruel,” Jack said softly. “But what you need now, Colonel, is to face the reality.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He just felt thankful this tragedy hadn’t happened to someone he loved.

“This is a mental disorder, right?” Barnes grabbed Jack’s hand with a desperate grip. “They said you’re a psychologist. Please—tell me Rachel can be treated.”

His eyes were drowning in grief, begging for hope that Jack didn’t know if he could give.