Mercy is for the Just
by
sHaYcH
All Previous Disclaimers
Apply
Part Four
Oak Hollow Memorial –
Evanston, ILLINOIS
JJ liked her
immediately,
though that may have had something to do with the scent of lilac and
cigarette
smoke that reminded the blonde agent of her aunt.
Proffering her hand at
the
same time as she and Emily flashed their badges, JJ said, “I’m Jennifer
Jareau,
this is Emily Prentiss. We’re
with the
FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. You’ve
got a woman named Mary Jacobs listed as a patient here?”
Warily, Dr. Mason shook
JJ’s hand and said, “Yes, she’s one of our long term patients.”
“Is there somewhere we
can
talk, Dr. Mason?” said Emily.
The doctor shrugged. “I suppose we could use my
office. I’m about
due for a break. If
you’ll follow me?”
They did, and soon, the
three women were ensconced within a comfortable, well-appointed office
that was
as different from the rest of the hospital as a carnival was from a
funeral
home. Warm and
filled with rich shades
of brown and burgundy, wood and leather, Dr. Mason’s office was a
refuge from
the institutional blah of the outer hospital.
Indicating a French
press
filled with dark, richly scented coffee, the doctor said, “Can I offer
you some
coffee? I grind and
brew it
myself. Otherwise,
I’d have to drink
the sludge the nurses swill.”
“Please,” said Emily.
“Thank you,” murmured JJ.
After half a week of cop
shop coffee, neither agent was willing to look a gift horse in the
mouth. Or in this
case, a cup of very good coffee
topped off with premium creamer and served in cups that had seen more
than a haphazard
rinsing in the men’s washroom.
“We’re investigating a
series of murders, Dr. Mason,” said JJ.
“And Mary’s name came up as a person of interest.”
“Well, I don’t know
why,”
said the doctor. “She’s
in a persistent
vegetative state and has been that way since coming to Oak Hollow.” She leaned back in her
chair, steepled her
fingers and said, “She’s completely non responsive.
I hope you didn’t drive all this way for nothing, ladies.”
Emily rested her cup on
her knee and said, “Actually, what we really need to know is what
happened to
the baby.”
Surprised, Dr. Mason
said,
“Pardon?”
“Shortly after the
attack
that put her into a coma, Miss Jacobs gave birth to a daughter. We’re interested in
finding that child, or
anyone connected with her,” said JJ.
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever
met anyone claiming
to be the patient’s daughter. Her
mother, yes. Barbara
Jacobs came by
once a week to spend time with Mary.”
“Has she been to see her
this week?” said Emily while JJ pulled out her cell to send a text to
Garcia.
“No, I’m afraid Mrs.
Jacobs won’t be visiting any more.
She
died about six months ago. Heart
attack, I’m told. Sad
thing, really. Mary
used to be the only one on the ward who
had a regular visitor. Now,
she’s just
like the rest; visitors show up once in a blue moon.”
“Do you know who it is
that visits?”
Dr. Mason pursed her
lips,
“Not off hand, no, but the floor has a sign-in sheet.
Maybe one of the nurses will remember?”
Emily nodded.
“We’ll talk to them.
Meanwhile, could you find out who currently
has power of attorney for Mary Jacobs?”
“I’ll have to check with
our legal department on that, unless you have a warrant?”
“We can get one,” said
JJ.
“That might be best. After all, the patient’s
not going
anywhere.”
%%%
Carol Flores was a
brightly cheerful young nurse with a shock of curly red hair, a ready
smile and
a flirtatious nature that immediately irritated Emily.
Okay, so it was only that last part that
irked the older agent, and perhaps that was because the nurse was
turning her
pretty smiles and large, luminous green eyes on JJ, but that didn’t
mean Emily
couldn’t find her just the smallest bit suspicious.
Maintaining a silent,
brooding presence behind her blonde cohort, Emily let JJ do the talking
while
taking copious mental notes.
“Sure, I remember Mrs.
Jacobs. Nice lady,
if a bit on the
preachy side. Old
school bible thumper,
you know?” Carol
angled her head so as
to look up at JJ with the air of someone sharing a bit of harmless
gossip.
Returning the young
nurse’s smile, JJ said, “Actually, we’re more interested in knowing who
visits
Mary now. Dr. Mason
told us that
someone still comes by, if not as often.”
Carol’s eyes widened. “Oh, I know exactly who
you mean. Really
gorgeous chick with hair like fire
and eyes that look like they’re seeing right through you.” She let out a soft sigh. “Quite the hottie. I think her name was
Michelle…”
Picking up a clipboard, the nurse thumbed through several
pages until
she found one about half way down the stack.
“Yeah, here it is: Michelle Coleman.”
She held out the clipboard for the agents to see. “I remember her now. Quiet, kind of shy, but
nice enough once you
got her talking.”
Emily took it, pulled
out
her cell, and snapped a quick picture of the signature.
It might be nothing, or it might be just the
clue they needed to lead them to the UnSub.
Stepping away from JJ and the nurse, Emily quickly dialed
Garcia.
“Yeah, hey.
I think we have a name.
Michelle Coleman. I’m
sending you a picture of her signature now.
Any new information there?
It was a heart attack?
Okay, I’ll let JJ know.
Did you get that warrant?
Oh, she is?
Okay, that’s what I expected.”
She fell silent as Garcia spoke, then made a noise
somewhere between
amusement and frustration. “All
right. We’re about
done here. I’ll
call Hotch on the way back to
Chicago.” Hanging
up, she walked back
over to JJ and murmured, “We’re on the right track.”
JJ reached into her
pocket
and pulled out the police sketch of the woman Dazzle Razzle had seen
and said,
“Does this look anything like Miss Coleman?”
The nurse took the
sketch
and examined it. “Well,
kind of. I mean,
Michelle’s… well… she’s kind of
butch. Wears her
hair in a ponytail
most of the time. Dresses
in t-shirts
and jeans, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in makeup. Shame, it would have done
wonders for her
face. But yeah,
this could be
Michelle. She in
some kind of trouble?”
JJ took the sketch back
and tucked it into her pocket. “She’s
a
person of interest in an ongoing investigation.”
Raising her eyebrows,
Carol said, “I used to date a cop.
That
means she’s a suspect.” The
nurse shook
her head disbelievingly. “I
sure can
pick them.”
“Oh?”
JJ sensed the nurse had something more to
add.
Carol looked around and
then leaned toward JJ. In
a conspiratorial
tone, she said, “I asked her out once.
We had a drink at a place up the way.
I was really into her, but she spent the entire night
staring at this
male nurse from the third floor. For
a
dyke, she was certainly acting straight.”
The nurse shrugged and then winked at JJ.
“I guess my gaydar isn’t always right “
Feeling her ears heat,
JJ
said, “Did Miss Coleman ever give you her phone number?”
“You know, she
didn’t. We only
went out once, and the
next time I saw her, Mrs. Jacobs had passed.
I was on rounds and only caught a glimpse of her as she
read to Mary
from Barbara’s bible.”
“When was the last time
she visited?”
“Oh, that entry I showed
you was the last time she’d been by.
To
tell you the truth, I’m afraid that’s probably the last time she’ll
visit. She left
rather abruptly. Even
threw away Mrs. Jacob’s bible. Shame.
It was a pretty old thing.
I
saved it, just in case she had a change of heart.”
Emily pulled out a pair
of
gloves when the nurse admitted to having the book.
“Do you have it here?
Could you point to where it’s kept?” she said brusquely.
Startled, Carol stepped
back and gestured to a drawer in the desk.
“It’s in here. I’ll
just get it
for you.”
“Let me, please.” Emily opened the drawer
and shifted the contents
until she found the old, leather bound book.
Withdrawing it, she chose a section at random and checked
the
interior. Her face
a closed mask, she
said, “JJ do you have an evidence bag on you?”
Pier 17 –
Chicago,
ILLINOIS
“Honey, I hate to
interrupt, but-“ There
was a grunt, and
a muffled thud on the other end of the line.
“I could use a little back up here.”
“Where are you?”
“Pier seventeen.
Look for the warehouse with a red-feathered
eagle. It’s just
off the main road,
about half a mile from the lake.”
“I’m five minutes away,
Doc. Hang in there.” Kate switched lanes,
hopped off the freeway
and started racing through residential streets and back alleys. Taking corners at hard
angles, zigging and
zagging around parked cars, stray cats and the occasional pedestrian,
the
investigator expertly wove her way across the city.
“Don’t come in hot –
they’ve got live ones.”
Great, that means there
are
hostages.
There was another thud,
and a soft groan from Elizabeth, followed quickly by a scream of agony
that was
too masculine to have come from the vampath.
“Doc, please tell me you
didn’t just rip someone’s throat out while chatting on the phone with
me.” Kate could see
the wharf now. Like
a sea of stars, the ships in port were
lit up and glittering in their berths on the rippling waters of Lake
Michigan. Offset
from the piers, the warehouse
district huddled against the shore, and from this distance, Kate could
just
barely make out the names of several large corporations stenciled on
the sides
of the cargo containers. Most
of the
buildings were well lit, peopled with the night crew still hard at work
transferring pallet loads of merchandise into the concrete and brick
structures, but there was one or two that were dark.
It was to those that Kate turned her attention, seeking
the
symbol of the red-feathered eagle.
Elizabeth chuckled
darkly. “Okay, I
won’t. I can hear
the FJR. You must
be fairly close. I’ll
see about sending up a bat signal.”
Slowing, Kate watched
for
her lover’s sign. Ahead
of her lay the
torn and twisted fragments of a broken cyclone fence and beyond that an
old,
weathered brick building squatted in a sea of darkness.
Faded paint indicated that there was
something marking the wall, but it was too much in shadow to tell if it
was the
red-feathered eagle. However,
the
general state of the lot suggested long term abandonment. The investigator was about
to ask for
location confirmation when one of the upper windows exploded outward in
a
shower of glass and wood fragments.
Kate watched in amused surprise as something plummeted
toward the
ground. She reached
for her sidearm,
but the body disintegrated before she had even unsnapped the holster.
The bat
signal.
Oh, how I do love you, my violent little vampath. Holding back
a snort of laughter, Kate said, “I’m here.
Where’s the entrance?”
“Southwest corner. I think there’s eight of
them left.”
“Where are the hostages?”
“In a cage suspended
above
the main warehouse floor. I
can’t quite
get to them yet – they’ve got a pet hellhound guarding it.”
And here I am without a
net. Ah well, that’s what the triple loads are for.
The door was easy to
spot,
once she knew where to look. Bringing
the bike to a stop, Kate killed the engine and ran in, flicking on her
torch
and looking for a target. A
bad
experience on a prior case had taught her not to remove her helmet when
entering a situation of potential danger.
Instead, she kept it on, trusting that the low-light
function of the
face shield would allow her to see.
Sounds of combat drew
her
deeper into the warehouse and, as she rounded a corner, she stumbled
into a
group of three vamps.
“Hello boys,” she
caroled softly. “I’m
afraid you’re
trespassing.” Firing
once, she grinned in approval as her
shot dusted the first one before he had time to react.
As the others leapt to attack, she fired
twice more, noting with grim satisfaction that the helmet also kept the
vamp
dust out of her eyes.
“Dick? I heard
gunfire. Everything
okay?” Elizabeth
sounded winded, but unhurt.
“I’m fine, Doc.
Just took out three by the door.
You?”
The hall dead-ended at a door.
It was partially open, and Kate could just make out the
dim shapes of
the main warehouse floor.
“Peachy.
I’ve got four on my six and two in the
air. Anytime you
can jump in would be
great.”
“Never fear, the
cavalry’s
here,” said Kate as she dove through the door and joined in the fray.
Streets of Ward
17
“We’ll take a closer
look
at it when you get back. Garcia
has
confirmed that Michelle Coleman is Mary Jacobs’ daughter. Barbara Jacobs was her
grandmother. It’s
possible that her death was the
stressor that set her off,” said Hotch.
“Garcia, could you work
your magic and see what you can come up with for a last known address
on
Michelle Coleman?” said Morgan.
“Already on it, Hot
Stuff. The address
is being faxed as I
type and get this, it’s rented to a Marcus Coleman.”
They heard the sound of the fax machine, while JJ’s phone
beeped,
indicating the arrival of a text message.
When she checked it, Emily found a copy of Michelle
Coleman’s driver’s
license.
“Wait, I thought the
UnSub
was gay,” said Morgan.
“Just because she lives
with someone whose name is apparently masculine does not mean that her
partner
is, in fact, male,” said Reid. “Nor
does the fact that they appear to share the same last name indicate a
gender
bias. They could
have chosen to legally
change their names to reflect their desire to demonstrate some of the
heteronormative functions of society, even if they cannot actually
marry.”
“Do we know if Michelle
has a brother?” came Rossi’s calm question.
“There’s nothing in the
records that indicates the presence of a sibling,” said Garcia. “But I’ll run a check just
to be sure.”
“At this point, we
shouldn’t assume anything,” said Hotch.
“Prentiss, I want you and JJ to meet Rossi downtown and
look for that
prostitute. Show
her Michelle’s picture
and see if she ID’s it as the woman she saw.
Reid, Morgan, and I will go to the Coleman apartment and
see what we can
learn from Marcus.”
“Okay, we’re on our
way,”
said JJ as she switched lanes and started to head for the clubs and
bars where
the murders had taken place.
“I’ll start digging into
Michelle Coleman’s life. Anything
else?” said Garcia.
Something that the nurse
had said had been nagging at Emily and she blurted, “Hey, the first
victim –
what did he do for a living?”
“That would be Paul
Marquez,” said Garcia. She
started to
type, but was interrupted by Reid.
“Paul Marquez.
Twenty-two, single, lived alone and worked
as a nurse out at Oak Hollow Memorial in Evanston.”
Biting back the urge to
curse, Emily said, “Guys, I think she met him while going to visit her
mother.”
“Does anyone know where
Marquez was the night he was killed?” said Rossi.
There was a shuffling of
papers, and some incoherent mumbling as each agent wracked their brains
for the
information.
“Here it is!” came
Reid’s
jubilant cry. “His
roommate said that
they’d gone out for drinks and dancing at Club 88.
The roommate left, but Marquez remained behind to catch a
show
featuring female impersonators.”
“Dazzle Razzle said she
saw victim number five coming out of Limbo.
Their main attraction is the dance floor, but they also
have a small
stage where male and female impersonators perform,” said JJ. “I’m almost to Club 88 now. I’m going to drop Emily
off and head back to
the station house and go over the files to see if I can pinpoint where
each of
the victims were last seen.”
“Good idea, JJ.
Rossi’s on his way. He’ll
meet Emily at Limbo.” The
phone went dead as the blonde agent
pulled the car up next to the curb in front of Club 88.
“We’re so close,” said
Emily. “I can feel
it. We’re going to
get this bitch.”
With a mischievous
chuckle, JJ said, “Just don’t haul in every redhead you see, okay? I really don’t want to
have to face another
overly earnest priest.”
Emily colored and ducked
her head. “Erf,
yeah, that was… I don’t
know. Something
about that Blaine woman
just strained my every last nerve and made me hyper suspicious.”
Laying her hand on
Emily’s, JJ said, “It’s all right, Em.
She gave me the willies, too.
Unfortunately, just because someone makes your skin crawl
doesn’t mean
that they’re automatically guilty.”
There was only the mildest hint of reproach in JJ’s tone.
“I know.
I owe that woman an apology.
Maybe I’ll call her tomorrow.
You know, I actually worked with her partner
once. It was in LA,
on an old rape case
– we must have spent hours in the morgue, up to our eyeballs in dust
bunnies
and cobwebs, digging out files and evidence while bitching about our
jobs. I wonder why
she left the force.”
JJ shrugged.
“Bet Garcia could find out, if you were
really curious.”
“Or I could ask her. I seem to recall she had a
fondness for Irish
whiskey. Maybe we
could all catch a
drink when this is over.”
“Might be kind of
fun. We’ll have to
talk about this more
at another time – there’s Rossi’s car.”
JJ withdrew her hand, smiled shyly and said, “See you
later?”
Emily returned the
smile. “I wish I
could kiss you right
now,” she said, her voice a soft, husky trill that sent a cascade of
goose
bumps down JJ’s back.
Blinking slowly, JJ
leaned
toward Emily and said, “Then kiss me.”
“What? Here?
No way!”
Emily’s face was a study of shock and dismay.
Jerking back, JJ fought
hard to keep from overreacting. “Why
not? Are you afraid
of being seen as a
lesbian?” She
glanced out of their
windows pointedly, but couldn’t quite keep the anger from her voice as
she
added, “It’s not like anyone is paying attention.”
Quick to reassure, Emily
said, “No, of course not, JJ. Labels
aren’t something I need or care about.
Heck, I don’t give a damn if people think I’m a purple
chicken fucker. However,
I do care about my job, and yours,
too. We can’t
afford to let the case
become tainted by any hint of impropriety.”
Thoughtful, JJ replied,
“That might very well be true, Em.
On
the other hand, if we hide everything we’re feeling, then eventually,
we’ll
regret making the decision to cross the line.”
Emily closed her eyes
briefly. “JJ, I
like you. Quite a
bit, actually. Probably
more than I’m ready to admit. And
there’s nothing more that I’d rather do
than to take you out on a fabulous date where I can show the world how
much
having you by my side thrills me to pieces.
I’m just not sure that right here, right now is the time
and place for
that.”
“I like you too,
Emily. That’s why I
want to do this; to
take the risk. Kiss
me. It doesn’t have
to be anything special, just
you and me enjoying a moment that isn’t about UnSubs, evidence or the
BAU.”
Emily looked away, her
gaze fixing on some point far in the distance.
“You make it sound so easy, Jennifer.”
JJ’s short, sharp bark
of
laughter caused the brunette to jerk as if slapped.
“Easy? No,
it’s not. It’s
impossibly difficult; probably the
hardest thing I’ve ever done was kissing you, Emily Prentiss. But I can’t help it. When I look at you, I see
a future of
tomorrows that stretch into infinity, and I have to reach for that
because I
want every day to be filled with the insanely great feeling that I have
for
you.” As she’d
spoken, JJ’s voice had
grown soft, filled with a ragged tenderness that forced Emily to
abandon the
view of the street.
Fully captivated by JJ’s
face, Emily dared to reach out and trace her fingertips over the
blonde’s
flushed cheek. “You
can wreck me with
your words, you know. You’ve
put my
fear in ruins.”
Smiling weakly, JJ said,
“Then we’re even, because you’ve been shattering me with your eyes for
almost
as long as I’ve known you. Now,
kiss
me, Emily Prentiss, because you have an UnSub to find.”
Unable to deny the soft
command any further, Emily leaned forward and pressed her lips to JJ’s. The kiss was soft,
undemanding and felt so
right; the agent wondered why she’d fought so hard to deny it in the
first
place.
Parting, she said, “I’ll
call if we get anything.”
JJ nodded, and replied,
“Same here. Now go. Rossi is heading this way.”
Pier 17
Office of Lockley and
Associates
Afterward, even with the
best
of intentions, exhaustion took over and drove the women homeward. Filled with the mildly
ebullient fever of
those who have done a good job, Kate and Elizabeth sat down to share a
meal
with Dersk and hash out what they knew of their other, more mundane
case.
Over pizza and beer,
they
pooled their knowledge.
“I’ve got nothing new on
Coleman, but I did hear from a buddy over at Bash’Ems that her
apartment got
raided by the FBI tonight.” Dersk
smirked wryly. “Guess
they figured a few
things out all by their lonesomes.
Anyway, hopefully it’ll all be over soon, and we’ll see
the arrest on
the morning news.” With
a loud,
satisfied belch, he said, “Then I can go back to surfing for deadbeat
dads,
lost heirs, and obscure translations of Egyptian hieroglyphs.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Aw gee, Snake Boy, one
might almost believe
that you’re bored.”
Sticking his tongue out
at
her, Dersk retorted, “Not bored, just tired of being hunched over a
computer
all day. I need to
breathe the fresh,
smog-tainted air and drink in the sight of all that your human world
has to
offer once in a while.”
There was a moment
filled
with the ticking of a clock, the distant rush of passing cars, and the
subtle
creak and groan of the building as it settled.
Then, with a sudden, loud shift, the three friends started
laughing.
“You’re full of shit,
Dersk,” said Kate. “You
love desk
work. Your precious
hide doesn’t get
bruised that way.”
Grinning hugely, Dersk
chuckled and said, “Of course, Boss.
I’m too pretty to sport such ugly shades.”
His form flickered, and then shifted to the scaled,
brilliantly
hued shape that was his demonic nature.
“Don’t you agree?”
“Oh yeah, you’re so
beautiful, Snake Boy,” said Elizabeth.
“Better be careful or you’ll start shattering mirrors with
your godlike
gloriousness.”
Dersk struck a pose
until
the giggles that he was valiantly trying to suppress won free and then,
he fell
to the floor, howling with laughter while Kate and Elizabeth chuckled
at his
antics.
After the half demon
finally regained control of himself, Elizabeth said, “Okay, so we’re
pretty
sure we know who the killer is – why aren’t we calling those FBI folks?”
Kate pursed her lips and
then said, “Well, I thought about doing that earlier, but then, I
realized
something: we have
no solid
evidence. Sure,
they’ve seen her place,
but beyond the emotional snooping you did, Dick, there’s nothing they
can put
before a jury as proof. We
just can’t
go in and say, ‘She did it because we say so’.”
Caught in the middle of
a
yawn, Elizabeth said, “Then what are we going to do?”
Shrugging
apologetically,
Kate said, “If we can’t do it by the old book, let’s make a new one. Your symbiote’s evidence
won’t buy us an
arrest warrant, but it might just get us into a position to catch her
in the
act.” She sighed
and then yawned. “Unless,
of course, the FBI finds her
first. Then it’s
all moot, and we can
go back to earning a paycheck.”
Baycrest Arms
Streets of Ward 17
It seemed that she was
right.
Turning away from the
apartment complex, she ran for refuge.
%%%
The lateness of the hour
was not lost on the very exhausted brunette leaning against the door of
the
black SUV. It
seemed that the longer
she sat there, the more likely it was that she would slowly slip into a
coma. Three members
of their team were
still at the Coleman apartment, documenting the reams of evidence found
there. Emily
stifled a yawn and tried
not to look down at her watch for the umpteenth time.
JJ had called, twice,
with
information that confirmed that Michelle Coleman was definitely their
UnSub.
At least five
of the victims had been seen at, or known to frequent the drag clubs
where the
UnSub worked. From
documentation and
evidence at the apartment, Reid made the startling connection that
Marcus and
Michelle were one and the same, and used both male and female aliases
to
perform at a variety of local clubs and bars.
This led the team to speculate that the UnSub possibly
suffered from an
identity disorder. Garcia
had dug up
some arrests for lewd behavior, as well as one six-month stint in a
mental
hospital. A
late-night call to
Coleman’s former psychiatrist all but confirmed the team’s suspicions
regarding
the UnSub’s mental state.
Emily rubbed her eyes
and
concentrated on sipping from the cup of hot coffee that Rossi had just
given
her. They had
visited Limbo, Club 88
and most of the bars in the areas around the dumpsites and had yet to
spot the
UnSub – either as Sheila Divine or as her male alter ego, Marcus Cole.
Surreptitiously, Emily
eyed her companion. Though
she knew
Rossi must have seen her kiss JJ – the SUV’s windows were tinted but
not opaque
– he had not brought up what was quite probably a complete breach of
protocol
on her and JJ’s part. Not
to
mention the whole, lesbian thing.
Ugh.
Labels. I hate labels. Why can’t we all just accept
that what we do
in our bedroom as consenting adults with other consenting adults is no
one’s
business but those involved?
“I think after this
we’ll
call Hotch and see if he needs help at the Coleman place,” said Rossi. “Though I suspect I’ll
have to remind him
that we are all not robots and do require a minimal amount of rest in
order to
be effective. As
much as I hate being
behind this nutjob, I’d rather not have to explain to Section Chief
Strauss why
I managed to shoot the kneecaps off the UnSub.”
It was such a completely
unexpected statement, that Emily burst into laughter.
With a sly grin, she said, “Better than having to explain
why it
is you fell asleep before drawing your gun.”
His laughter was only a
little forced. Just
as suddenly,
though, his mood shifted. “Emily,
I
hope you have considered your choices wisely.
If you’re not careful, the road you are on could become
quite rocky.”
With each of the older
agent’s words, Emily felt her heart rate increase until she was certain
the
rapid fluttering could be heard on the other side of the city. It took an effort of will
not to spout a
useless denial. Instead,
she exhaled
slowly and said, “Point taken, Sir.
I’ll be on my guard.”
Part of
Emily wanted to regret kissing JJ in public, but she couldn’t. JJ was right – they needed
to have time for
each other, and if that meant stealing a kiss in the car, then so be it.
Rossi smiled, a tiny
quirk
of the lips that was almost lost in the edges of his salt and pepper
mustache. “Good.” As he brought the car to a
halt, he turned
to look at her and said, “This job that we do, it can eat us whole. It drives away family and
destroys
friendships until all that is left is the quest for justice. There is no reward, no
glory and certainly
very little money to be made in its service.
So, if you and JJ can carve out a place for each other
without hurting
the team, then I’m very happy for you.
However, if I ever suspect that there’s a problem, Erin
Strauss will be
the first call I make.” His
gaze bored
into her and, for the first time in a long while, Emily felt the
stirrings of
fear for a superior. “Elizabeth
Prentiss will be the second.”
Never had Emily’s
stomach
dropped so fast. At
thirty-eight years
of age, she should not have been so terrified of facing the potential
wrath of
Elizabeth Prentiss, but the long-ingrained habit was so much a part of
her,
that Emily sometimes wondered if she would miss the sensation if it
were to
suddenly vanish. Discovering
that her
daughter was involved in a lesbian affair with a coworker would barely
dent Ambassador
Prentiss’ admittedly tough hide.
However, should that affair somehow cause a scandal, the
good ambassador
would likely have more than a few choice words to impart upon her
errant
daughter.
It would not be a good
day, and right then and there, Emily vowed that there would never be
cause for
that day to pass.
“Trust me when I say
that
I will do all that I can to ensure you’ll never need to make those
calls, Sir.”
Rossi nodded.
“Good.
Now, let’s go see if we can get lucky.”
With weary
determination,
they exited the vehicle and headed toward another seedy bar.
The Black Water
Club –
4th Ward
Under her feet, the
stage
was hard, like stone quarried from the marble-rich mines of Colorado;
only
there was this great, sucking hole lying before her.
Rows and rows of greedy men with wanting eyes and liar’s
hearts
loomed in and out of the flashing strobe of the stage lights. Licking her lips, she
mouthed the words of
the song and chose the one who would be freed this night.
He stood at the back of
the small cluster of men that prostrated themselves before her, his
eyes a
beacon of blazing green against a sea of dull blue and dirt brown. That he was beautiful was
a given; nothing
else would do as an offering.
The song, her song dwindled to its last. Lips shaping the words as
her body swayed to the dying melody,
she glanced toward the bar and then at her chosen one.
“I can feel you
breathe. Just
breathe.” It never
seemed difficult. The
siren’s lure of her body was always
enough to draw them, eager and puppy-like, to her side.
Up close, he smelled of
earth and sweat; the energy of his bravado seethed off him in waves. “Hey baby,” he said,
placing a possessive
hand on her back. “I’m
Tommy.”
Tommy was a Jack with a
beer back kind of man, which made the insertion of her favorite spices
easy. Easier still
was drawing the
slightly befuddled, bleary-eyed boy into the alley behind the club. His hands were all over
her, pawing and
groping, while his mouth on hers tasted like ash and blood.
Falling against wall,
she
reached up into the secret place, the break in the brickwork where
she’d
concealed her rod and gripped the handle.
Its weight was a familiar comfort as she withdrew it
slowly, taking care
not to alert her would-be paramour.
His mouth left hers
abruptly as the rod came down. The
body
was heavy, but she was strong; her power was a gift from God,
Grandmother had
always said so. The
cord in her hands
looped about his throat easily.
Pulling, always pulling, yanking, tugging, struggling to
drag the
monsters from her, to feed the beast that burned inside her gut, and
she lost
herself to the moment, until the red, red haze blurred into the long,
still
black of night.
The Reliant
Hotel
Out of convenience,
Emily
rode with Rossi and once inside her hotel room, stood staring at the
empty
space on her bed with an uncharacteristic distaste.
Pushing aside wistful, romantic notions, she went about
performing
her evening ablutions and crawled under the fresh sheets.
Half an hour later,
sleep
was still an elusive, taunting promise that her body refused to accept. The empty, cold space
beside Emily mocked
her with the missing piece to a puzzle she had only recently come to
realize
was hers to complete.
Go on, get up and do it,
Em. You know you want to, and besides, isn’t it about time
you made
some overtures? JJ’s been doing a lot
of the work in this thing as you insist
on calling it. Why don’t you just wise
up, and take what you know would be gladly given?
The advice, of course, was sound.
It was also running counterpoint to a
nameless, voiceless dread that started somewhere in her toes and was
slowly
creeping its way up her body.
Could she do this? Just ignore years of
conditioning herself to
set aside her desires in favor of what was best, of what was acceptably
politic
within the world that Emily existed?
It
all seemed so easy when she was with JJ.
The rush of emotion, heady, fear-killing sensations that
wiped away all
cause for doubt was so much stronger in the blonde agent’s presence.
Alone, all Emily had was
her will, and a tangled web of feelings that left her weak-kneed and
wanting. Had she
loved before? Yes,
of course; she wasn’t a child. Relationships
had come and gone. Most
were barely a blip on her life’s
radar. Yet this
time, she sensed
something different. A
uniqueness to
the situation that had very little to do with the circumstances and
everything
to do with the crazy, uncontrollable feelings she had whenever she
thought
about a certain blonde press liaison.
Damn it, I don’t even
know if
she’s still awake. She tried to
tell herself to forget it, to just close her eyes and sleep. Tomorrow was already here,
and the morning
would see them far too busy to worry about missed opportunities. Yet a subtle, insidious
voice within
whispered, You
would forgive her for waking you, were your positions
reversed.
“Fuck, I hate it when
I’m
right,” she muttered. Before
she could
lose her nerve, Emily stood, pulled on her slacks, grabbed her room
key, phone,
and sidearm and went to brave an uncertain welcome.
%%%
The
knock on her door was
completely unexpected, but when JJ pulled herself from the drowsy state
of
almost sleep she had fallen into, the intrusion was completely forgiven. Standing before her,
brunette hair tousled
in the wild waves of one who has had a restless night, clad only in a
thin tank
top and navy slacks, was Emily. The
older agent’s face was a pathetic study of apology, though her eyes
bore a
deep, unspoken hunger that kindled a similar need within JJ.
“I couldn’t sleep,” said
Emily softly. “I-“ Here, she faltered, but
with a brief pause,
continued. “I
missed you.” As if
saying the words had unlocked the
gates barring her thoughts, she blurted, “I wanted to hold you. I couldn’t get it out of
my head.”
JJ felt the smile start
from somewhere deep inside. “Well
then,
by all means-” She stepped aside to allow Emily entrance. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Hovering at the
threshold,
Emily whispered, “This is it, you know.
I can’t go back from here, JJ.
I’m going to want it all, now.”
Calmly, JJ took Emily’s
hand and led her into the room. As
the
door closed, she gently relieved the older agent of her burdens,
placing the
gun and room key in a drawer and the phone on the nightstand. Murmuring, “I think we
want the same things,
Em.” JJ turned back the covers on both sides of the bed and then, with
simple
serenity, she crawled in, turned out her light and said, “Come to bed,
Emily. I need you
to hold me.”
Alley Behind
The Black
Water Club
When the crazy redheaded
bitch had finally stopped biting the hell out of his chest and left,
Tommy had
sat up, wiped away as much blood as he could and then stumbled off
toward his
van. Dawn was not
far off, and if he
didn’t get out of the sun, the job that the hottie from the club had
started
would be irrevocably finished.
Sleep did much to
restore
the damage the three-foot length of pipe had done to his face, but the
young
vampire suspected that it would take a good feeding to undo the
destruction of
his chest and throat. Without
a
reflection, he could not discern the true extent of his injuries, but
the
ravaging burn of pain that sheeted from his groin to his ears every
time he
moved was indication enough of its severity.
As soon as he could, he
was going to find something to eat, and then, then he was going to find
that
fucking bitch and rip out her fucking throat.
After that, well the sky was the limit.
With a feral grin, Tommy began to envision what it might
be like to turn
the little psycho. After
all, every
good vamp needed a girl, and she certainly had been a real looker.
Office of
Lockley and
Associates
The Black Water
Streets of Chicago
A thirty-minute press
conference featuring the Agent Jennifer Jareau, Captain MacPherson, and
Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner discussing the case had kicked
off the
media frenzy and current manhunt.
Reports dominated by clips of the press conference topped
every hour
while reporters lurked in droves outside of the Tenth precinct.
No one at the Tenth
precinct gave much notice to a report of almost two liters of blood
found in an
alley behind a bar in the Fourth ward, but one man, Larry Kaplan,
realized it
was information that was worth something to a certain private
investigator. He
made a call and was not surprised when
the grinning, spike-haired young man that worked as Kate Lockley’s
secretary
delivered his favorite lunch.
Armed with the new
information, Kate, Elizabeth, and Dersk hit the streets, starting at
the Black Water. The
vampath took the alley while Kate and
Dersk spoke with the owner.
“I’m real surprised the
cops didn’t come round and take a look at this mess,” drawled the
soft-voiced
young man who had been more than happy to let Kate and her people take
a look
around. “I know
there ain’t no body
back there, but that’s a damn sight more blood then you see from any
old
fight.” He looked
at Kate and smiled
shyly. “We get our
share of
altercations Ma’am. The
Black Water
ain’t exactly known for its peaceful atmosphere, but generally the
blood that
is shed is minimal.”
Kate nodded.
The pale, heavily made up young man looked
about as harmful as Morticia Adams at a school bake sale. In fact, I think that’s whom
he’s
borrowing his look from. Hmm, must not
snap fingers. “This might sound unusual, but
did you happen to have anyone by the
name of Sheila Divine perform last night?” said Kate.
The interior of the Black Water was a disturbing shade of
crimson, and the investigator forced herself to focus on the proprietor. From the ruddy glass of
the light fixtures,
to the claret-hued shag carpet, everything within the nightclub was
nauseatingly sanguine. Just the
kind of place where a newly turned vampire with delusions of Anne Rice
might
hang out.
The club owner
laughed. “Who, that
pallid Prima
Donna? Please, the
Black Water doesn’t
cater to her kind of boy. We
like our
performers to be a little more Marilyn Manson and a little less Marilyn
Monroe.”
Okay,
no Coleman involvement. Definitely
vamp. “All right, how about anyone new? I saw the flyer
advertising the open mic
last night.”
Long fingers topped off
by
nails painted in glittery black enamel tapped against thickly painted
lips. “I believe
there was a couple of
newbies. It is
rather difficult to recall
– we get quite busy on open mic nights.”
Daring a look around,
Kate
said, “Do you operate security cameras in here?”
“But of course,
sweetie. We’ve had
some trouble in the
past and have learned not to trust in the impartiality of the law.”
Tucking her hands into
the
back pockets of her jeans, Kate cocked her head, looked at him and
smiled
winningly. “So what
would I have to do
to get a look at last night’s tapes?”
%%%
For
Elizabeth, the scent
of blood always carried a wave of memory so vast that it often took a
moment to
clear the cobwebs of history from her mind.
As a medical student working the night shift in a New
Orleans morgue,
she’d been up to her elbows in claret more times than she could count. As a vampire, she had
slaked an impossible
hunger with the rich, coppery-sweet liquid.
In her present vampathic state, blood not only evoked
memory, it
enflamed her symbiote.
Squatting in the back of
a
dingy alley, she stared down at the slowly drying pool of gore that
spread
across the broken pavement like the unwanted remains of a horrible
cooking
experiment. At the
base of her skull,
Elizabeth began to feel the low, buzzing tingle of the Tos as it
thrummed to
awareness. The
longer she stood there,
enrapt in the crime scene, the stronger the symbiote’s hunger grew. With deft control that had
become second
nature, Elizabeth loosened the fetters on the Tos and gave in to the
feral side
of her being.
The events that had
occurred in the alley had left a mark that went deeper than castoff
blood
spatter or scattered bone fragments.
Carved into brick and concrete, metal and wood, the
terrible act that
had caused the blood pool throbbed on the land like an open wound. This close to the actual
event, Elizabeth
had a chance to feel the emotions of the participants as though she had
been
witness to the act.
Exhaling slowly, she
braced herself, reached out with one hand and then let it fall into the
sticky,
half dried liquid. At
first, all she
felt was the chill of the pavement, the briskness of the breeze and the
unyielding metal of the dumpster against her back.
Slowly, these faded, leaving behind phantom sensations
that ebbed
away until all that was left was the hollow, rhythmic thump of her
heartbeat.
Butterfly light, the
first
trickle of emotion ghosted across her senses.
Lust, burning, driving, stumbling, pulling, leading, lust
that, in a
startled moment of fear, gave way to pain, and finally, an overwhelming
sense
of glee. The
feeling was blazingly
potent; Elizabeth felt her lips pull back into a grin, revealing fangs
that had
budded into fullness. Glee
was followed
by satisfaction, which was in turn was followed by a muddled, jumbled
mess of
need, want, desire, hate, and exultation.
Shaken, she was about to pull back when one last, final
burst struck
her. Anger, pure,
unadulterated rage
rode over her like a herd of wild horses, leaving her gasping for air
and
quivering with the residual traces of hate.
Slowly, the vampath
regained control, and then stood, using a discarded wad of newsprint to
wipe
the worst of the blood from her hand.
Heading for the club, Elizabeth mulled over what she had
learned and
realized one thing: if
they didn’t find
Michelle Coleman soon, another, far more dangerous individual would
join the
hunt.
And as far as I know,
the CPD
hasn’t deputized any
vampires lately.
%%%
Hour
after hour passed as
the manhunt went on without success.
Elsewhere in the city, flyers depicting Michelle Coleman’s
face were
handed around, but still, the suspect remained at large. When they weren’t in the
field, the agents
were manning the phones, taking calls from potential witnesses. It was a giant pile of
“we’re getting
nowhere,” and Emily was frustrated enough to crack.
Taking a break, she went
outside and stood in the sun, letting the fierce brightness wash away
the
thick, angry lines of tension that had wrapped over her neck and
shoulders.
“The worst part about
this
job is the waiting,” came the soft, calm voice of Aaron Hotchner.
Emily turned and met the
steady, clear gaze of her supervisor.
Expecting to see something – reprimand, disappointment,
disgust, even –
in his eyes, she was surprised to find only the lingering weariness of
a man
whose life has not played out at all like he planned.
“Sir?”
“I’d like you and JJ to
head over to the Fourth ward and assist the Twenty-second with the
canvas of
their clubs. Garcia’s
found another
three that had Coleman employed under one of her aliases.”
Nodding, Emily said,
“And
maybe someone has seen her recently.
Right. All
right, let me go get
my coat and we’ll head out.” She
turned
and went back toward the precinct.
Within the first few steps, Emily had expected Hotch to
speak, to say
something that acknowledged his awareness of the shift in her
relationship with
JJ, but he remained silent. All
she
felt was the weight of his gaze on her back.
A little unsettled by the encounter, Emily made her way to
the bullpen,
grabbed her jacket, and then met JJ at the SUV.
Waking with JJ curled
against her had been one of the ten best moments of Emily’s life. Awash in the tender
emotions coursing
through her, Emily had spent several long minutes visualizing a
lifetime spent
with the young blonde. Not
since she’d
heard her mother say, “I’m proud of you, Emily,” when she’d graduated
the
Academy had the brunette felt so overwhelmed with emotion. It was like
single-handedly solving a case,
winning the Super Bowl, and discovering the cure for cancer all rolled
into one
volcanic eruption of adoration.
Falling in love was not
a
strange sensation for Emily Prentiss; doing it while knowing the other
person
was running headlong on the path beside her was a completely new
experience.
Many had knocked on the
door to her heart, but few had ever entered, and fewer still had
remained long
enough to make it a home. That
morning,
lying with her head pillowed on JJ’s shoulder, and feeling the other
woman’s
long, tapered fingers comb through her hair even as gentle snores gave
incontrovertible evidence to the blonde’s lack of wakefulness, Emily
had felt
something akin to child-like wonder come to glowing life in the pit of
her
stomach. The warm
radiance of it spread
throughout her body, making it seem as though she were floating on a
cushion of
air.
Upon seeing her, JJ
smiled
affectionately and said, “Someone’s
in
a good mood. Guess
that means you’re
driving.” She
tossed the keys at the
brunette, who snapped them up easily.
Shrugging a little
sheepishly, Emily said, “Mm, what can I say?
I can’t help it. I’ve
had the
best sleep of my life these last couple of days.
It’s been great.”
As she buckled her
seatbelt, JJ said, “Really? It
must be
contagious because I slept like a log.
Even with a lumpy mattress.”
They looked at each
other
briefly before breaking into a fit of snorting laughter. “Okay, we are officially
insane,” said Emily
as she started the car.
“Is that what this
is?” JJ’s face grew
thoughtful and then
she said, “Well, I guess it’s not so bad.
Think our HMO will let us share a padded room at the
asylum?”
Pulling out into the
afternoon traffic, Emily said, “Why not?
You know the government loves cutting corners.”
%%%
It
would have been comical
if it weren’t so frustrating. Separately, the agents of the BAU and the
investigators from Lockley and Associates checked and re-checked nearly
every
bar and club in the Fourth ward, and Michelle Coleman was not to be
found. Descending
below the streets to speak to the
refuse demon Pollatrix, who was one of Dersk’s best underworld
contacts,
produced no information either. Things
were just as bad for Hotch and the rest in the Seventeenth, though they
at
least had the evidence from the Coleman apartment to sift through for
clues.
Even trying to tap into
the powers of the Tos symbiote was useless, as Elizabeth had to be in
close proximity
to her target in order to home in on their location.
Otherwise, she was simply overwhelmed by the sheer mass of
emotion that clouded the city like a particularly thick batch of pea
soup. Worn to
frazzled shadows of their usual,
good-natured selves, the mood in Elizabeth’s car as they drove around
town was
distinctly aggravated.
“Boss, can we stop for a
pop? I’m bushed,”
said Dersk. Stretched
out in the back seat of the
Duster, the half demon looked every bit as tired as the women felt.
The mildly whiny tone of
the half demon’s voice set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge.
“We’re all tired, Snake Boy.
Just, deal with it.”
“I just want to get
something to drink that has more than a passing acquaintance with
caffeine,
Doc. Sheesh.”
“In a bit.
We’ve still got four places to check.”
“Yeah, for this round,” said
Dersk snidely. “Don’t
you think we could take a little
break?”
Very softly, her voice
so
controlled that it crackled through the car like a whip snap, Elizabeth
replied, “Eight, possibly nine dead young men aren’t in the mood to
hand out
breaks right now.”
“Why not?
They’re dead. They’re
not going anywhere.”
Petulant, even a little angry, Dersk’s question was like a
slap in the
face to the vampath.
“Would you like to walk
home?”
“Sure. It
wouldn’t be the first time!”
“All right, that’s
enough!” Kate’s
voice was a strident
blade that cut through the bickering of her companions with the smooth
efficiency born of long practice.
“Doc,
I’m starving. And I
know that you’re
hungry too, or you wouldn’t be so damn touchy.
Let’s find some place to stop and get a bite. We need a break or we
won’t be able to function and the sun
hasn’t even gone down yet!”
Sullenly, Elizabeth
said,
“You’re right. I’m
sorry, Dersk.”
The half demon sat up,
slid
forward and patted Elizabeth on the shoulder.
“S’ok, Doc. We’re
all a little
frazzled. This
Coleman chick is a
nutter and half and if she isn’t caught soon, someone else is going to
die. I don’t want
that to happen any
more than you do.” He
rested his cheek
against the cool leather of the seat back and sighed.
“But I gotta eat, and so do you.
If you hang a left, we can probably get a table at that
little café next
to the Black Water.”
With a weary smile,
Elizabeth said, “Good idea. After
we
eat, we can check in at the club and see if any of the regulars
remember
anything unusual from last night.”
Mummy’s Café
Eyeing the dilapidated
sign that proclaimed the restaurant, “Mummy’s Café”, Emily said, “I
don’t know,
JJ. I’m not sure
I’m ready to
experience the dubious delights of a place named after something that’s
been
dead for thousands of years.”
JJ chuckled and gave the
old sign a curious glance. Faded,
flecked paint worn and weathered by years of exposure boldly proclaimed
the
business name, which was then echoed in stylized hieroglyphs and
decorated with
cartoonish versions of sarcophagi, burial masks and Egyptian gods. “I don’t know, I think
it’s quaint, in an
urban kind of way. “ She
shrugged and
added, “It can’t be much worse than McDonald’s or Burger King.” Indicating the ubiquitous
fast food joints
with a nod, JJ said, “I’m not really in the mood for grease balls and
lard.”
Turning an indelicate
shade of green, Emily said, “Well, when you put it that way, Mummy’s it
is. I just hope the
blue plate special
isn’t canopic soup or deep fried linen wraps.”
“Eww, oh stop it,” said
JJ
as she lightly smacked the other agent on the arm.
“Or was it your plan to make me lose my appetite?”
Affecting an injured
pose,
Emily said, “JJ, honey, if you’re going to beat me, can I at least put
my
collar on first? It’s
always so much
better when I look the part.”
Torn between absolute
shock and nervous laughter, JJ made a sound that was something like a
snort and
a chuckle. Taking a
deep breath, she
arched one eyebrow and said, “Does this mean you’ll call me ‘Mistress’
and do
everything you can to please me?”
Glancing sidewise at JJ,
Emily calmly replied, “I don’t need to call you Mistress to do that, JJ. All I need is lots of time and
privacy.”
Suddenly feeling as if
all
the air had been sucked from her lungs, JJ shivered and said, “You are
going to
be the death of me, Emily Prentiss.”
Exhaling, she added, “But at least I’ll die with a smile
on my face.”
%%%
The interior of Mummy’s
was less exotic than the sign promised.
Booths lined the walls, the pale blue upholstery faded and
worn from
years of hard use. An
old fashioned
counter ran the length of the restaurant, and by the amount of people
perched
on the circular chairs, it was a popular destination.
All of the tables were
full, and Emily was ready to turn around and head for one of the fast
food
places when JJ put a hand on her arm and said, “Em, look. It’s Elizabeth Blaine and
her partner, Kate
Lockley.”
Spotting the
investigators
in a booth at the other end of the café, Emily bit her lip and then
made a
decision. “Come on,
I’m starving and
they’ve got a corner seat. They
can
share with a couple of the FBI’s finest.”
So saying, the brunette agent strode past the other
customers and up to
the table.
%%%
Dersk nudged Kate and
muttered, “Fibbies at four o’clock, Boss.”
Snickering softly,
Elizabeth said, “You really like that term, don’t you, Snake Boy?”
The half demon picked up
his chocolate milkshake and took a drink while maintaining an enigmatic
silence.
With a snort, the
vampath
rolled her eyes and said, “The place is full.
Should we offer to share the table?
It’s not like we’re cramped or anything.”
Kate looked up to meet
the
gaze of Agent Emily Prentiss. The
brunette quirked an eyebrow in her direction and then started toward
the booth.
“I don’t think we’re
going
to get a choice. Move
over, guys. Let’s
show the Feds we know how to be
friendly,” said Kate. One
by one, they
moved over and made room at the table so that when the agents arrived,
Kate was
able to gesture to the open space and say, “Have a seat, ladies.”
JJ inclined her head
graciously and said, “Thank you.
Although I threatened to settle for fast food, I’m glad
that I won’t
have to. I’ve seen
too many
drive-throughs this week as it is.”
Seated next to the
blonde
agent, Emily Prentiss first exchanged a quietly polite greeting with
Kate,
nodded at Dersk and then met the full on steely glare of Elizabeth
Blaine. For a long
moment, the brunette considered
how she was going to approach the big, hairy, purple elephant on the
table. Delicate
negotiations had always
been something more within her mother’s purview, but Emily had long ago
learned
that one has to give a little to get something in return.
To that end, she smiled
at
the silent redhead and said, “Sorry about the other day. It’s been a hell of a
week.”
Elizabeth frowned,
opened
her mouth, and then shot an outraged glare at Kate, who contrived to
look
innocent. Making a
face, the redhead
sighed and said, “Yeah, okay. Sorry
I
was such a bitch about it. I
guess I
have issues with authority figures.” Extending
her hand, she said, “No hard feelings?”
Taking it, Emily was
pleasantly surprised to find the grip strong but not overpowering. “Of course not, as long as
you feel the
same.” She smiled,
and then laughed out
loud at the brief look of consternation that flitted across Elizabeth’s
face. “Well, now
that we’ve gotten that
out of the way, what brings you ladies and gentleman,” she said, giving
Dersk a
quick wink. “Out to
this part of town?”
%%%
It took until after the
waiter had brought their meals before the shock of Kate’s rather droll
answer
to Emily’s question wore off.
JJ was the first to
speak.
“Miss Lockley, I really
don’t think you should be involving yourself in such a dangerous
endeavor.”
For some reason, the
young
man at the end of the table thought that was highly amusing, because he
let out
a strangled sound that could have been laughter if he hadn’t fought so
hard to
contain his mirth.
“Agent Jareau, you may
or
may not be aware of this, but I was a homicide detective for many years. In fact, I’ve even worked
with Agent
Prentiss, though she probably doesn’t remember me.
I was still a rookie at the time.”
“I remember you,”
interjected Emily softly. “In
fact, I
was surprised to see you as a civilian, Lockley.
You seemed like you were married to the badge.”
Kate shrugged
noncommittally. “Shit
happens. Look, the
point is, we know this town better
than you do, and we know the people.
I
think we should work together. Pool
our
resources.”
“I don’t think-“ Emily
stopped mid sentence when she felt the gentle pressure of JJ’s foot
against her
leg.
“Miss Lockley-“
“Kate.
You are neither English nor a butler.”
JJ grinned.
“Kate, then. As
much as we would appreciate your insight, you must understand
that apprehending a murderer is not the same as locating a deadbeat dad
or
proving spousal infidelity. Especially
in regards to this suspect – Michelle Coleman will not surrender
easily.”
“Easy or hard, she’ll
still go down. I’m
not afraid of her,”
said Elizabeth.
The tone of the
redhead’s
voice made every hair on the back of Emily’s neck prickle in atavistic
dread. There was
something very dark
and primal about the other woman that made the older agent want to
capture and
cage it before it metamorphosed into some monstrous evil that made
Bundy and
Dahmer look tame.
Softly, the brunette
agent
said, “You should be. Michelle
Coleman
has likely murdered eight healthy men.”
She gave the redhead a quick, dismissive glance. “You wouldn’t be much of a
challenge.”
Bristling, Elizabeth
fisted her hands, causing the muscles in her arms to flex and jump. “I’m stronger than I
look,” she
growled. “I’d be
happy to prove it to
you, Agent
Prentiss.”
For one, wildly insane
moment, Emily considered it. Oh
I wish. God knows it would probably do
me a world of good to go a few rounds with her. If nothing
else, maybe I could figure out why she grinds on my
every nerve.
Before she could respond, though, Kate leaned over to
softly speak to
her partner, effectively interrupting the conversation.
Out of the corner of her
eye, Emily watched as JJ’s hand slid across the table and casually
snitched a
fry from her plate. The
gesture was so
absurd that she chuckled throatily.
“JJ, if you want fries, why don’t you order them?”
At the brunette agent’s
words, the sullen look on Elizabeth’s face vanished.
“Oh my God, yours does it to you, too?”
Elizabeth laughed at the outraged expression on Kate’s
face and
said, “I swear, it
doesn’t matter what
I order, if I don’t get fries, she pouts for the rest of the day.”
Both blondes had
matching
sets of crimson ears and while Kate continued to appear mildly
irritated, JJ
just shrugged and said, “They taste better when they’re stolen.”
Everyone chuckled and
then
the young man, who had been mostly silent, said, “Does this mean you’ll
stop
the hissy fitting and act like adults now?
Sheesh, and they say men enjoy their pissing matches! I will never understand
you hu-er-people.”
“Shut up, Snake Boy,”
said
Kate and Elizabeth simultaneously, which earned them a rolled-eye glare
from
their secretary.
%%%
Toward the end of the
meal, Emily’s phone rang. Excusing
herself, she went outside to take the call.
“Prentiss.
Anything?”
Agent Hotchner sounded as weary as Emily felt.
“Aside from a couple of
overzealous private detectives with ‘glory hound’ written in bold
letters on
their foreheads? Nothing.” Emily ran a hand through
her hair, and
sighed. “I’m
beginning to wonder if
Coleman hasn’t fled to Canada.”
“Garcia has been
watching
the usual egress points and hasn’t come up with anything suspicious. What about the PIs? Who are they? How much do they know?”
Emily glanced into the
café, smiling as she spotted JJ showing Dirk her badge.
The Bureau encouraged its agents to put on a
good face for potential recruits, and the young man was exactly the
kind of
person the FBI employed.
“Kate Lockley, Elizabeth
Blaine, and Dirk Gorlusky – we interviewed Blaine a couple of days ago. Their investigations have
pretty much
paralleled ours. How
they got the information,
they won’t say, but they claim to have known about Coleman’s identity
for at
least a day longer than us. Lockley
said that she was going to call in a tip, but then she saw the press
conference
and figured we already knew. She
didn’t
add too much more, but she did suggest that we check out the dressing
room at
Club 88.”
“Do you think they found
something?”
“I don’t know, Sir. But I’ve worked with Kate
Lockley before,
and she was a good cop. I
don’t know
what made her leave the force, but she was pretty adamant about her
partner’s
innocence the other day, and instead of hiring a lawyer, she put her
agency to
work looking for the UnSub. That
says
something, I’m just not sure what.”
“All right, I’ll send
Morgan and Reid over to the club.
Why don’t
you and JJ find out if Lockley or Blaine has any contacts we might have
missed? Meanwhile,
I’ll get Garcia to
dig into Lockley’s background. We
already know Blaine’s clean.”
“Okay.
I’ll call if we come up with anything.”
Ending the conversation, Emily pocketed her
phone and headed back into the café.
Now,
I wonder if JJ remembers the deputation protocols.
%%%
It turned out that JJ
did,
in fact, remember the proper protocols.
After observing the forms, the four women headed over to
the Black Water
while Gorlusky took a taxi back to the investigator’s office. With access to the
agency’s computer, he
would be free to connect with their ‘net contacts while the others
pounded some
more pavement.
Though not a perfect
solution, Emily had to admit that Kate was good at her job when they
were let
in to the Black Water without complaint.
The club had just opened and was rapidly filling with an
array of
heavily made up individuals of a mostly Goth persuasion. White faces, kohl-lined
eyes, and jet-black
hair made any variation from that theme stand out like a canary in a
crowd of
crows. Elizabeth,
with her
blood-colored hair, pale features, and distinctly predatory presence,
stalked
through the customers with the easy grace of a queen among her subjects.
Information, when it
came,
was less than enlightening. Most
had
seen or heard something about the suspect, and almost all remembered
seeing
Coleman perform as Sheila Divine.
Following
a slim lead, the four women exited the club with the intention of going
to
another, more mainstream establishment.
“There’s a leather bar
over on 12th, Doc and I will head over there and
talk to some of the
regulars. We’ll
call you if we find
anything,” said Kate.
“If you see Coleman,
don’t
try anything heroic, just call us and keep her in sight, do you
understand?”
said Emily as they exchanged cell numbers.
Rolling her eyes, Kate
replied, “You know that I have a permit to carry concealed, and
I have cuffs, right?
If I have to, I’ll make a citizen’s arrest. I’m not letting her get
away just because you don’t want to have
to deal with the extra paperwork.”
Emily laughed wryly. “All right, Lockley, but
if you get yourself
shot playing hero, don’t come crying to me.”
“Kate doesn’t cry when
she
gets shot, she curses like a sailor, but she never cries. That’s
reserved for
sappy movies, good books, and great sex,” said Elizabeth, who then
proceeded to
run like hell for her car at Kate’s outraged squawk.
“She is so dead,”
muttered
Kate as she followed her partner.
JJ watched them go and
then said, a bit wistfully, “I think the team would probably implode
messily if
I said something like that about you.”
“Are you kidding? Morgan would live off that
for days, and
Garcia would throw a party. Reid
would
probably dredge up some wild factoid about how tears are another form
of
orgasm. Rossi would
give me that oh-so
superior look of his and then chuckle softly while Hotch would glare at
all of
us like we were slightly disobedient children,” Emily said, finishing
her statement
with a wry laugh that made JJ smile fondly.
“You make it almost
sound
worth it.” They
headed over to their
SUV. While they
were inside Black
Water, the sun had set, clothing the city in the gray shadows of dusk. Breezes carrying the chill
of the lake had
JJ reaching for the jacket she’d stowed in the back seat.
Winking teasingly, Emily
said, “Well, if you’re going to do it, you should probably conduct a
little bit
of field research before you make such a bold statement.”
Caught in the act of
putting
on the jacket, JJ closed her eyes and chuckled softly.
“I guess I deserved that one.”
As she climbed into the car, she said, “Oh,
I meant to ask you earlier – do you really have a collar?”
Emily’s smile grew wide
and innocent. “Why? Do you want me to?”
Shaking her head, JJ
said,
“All right, all right, I surrender.
You
win, smart ass.”
Laughing, Emily put the
car in gear and pulled into traffic.