A/N: This is my first fanfiction, so please be kind. Thanks so much for reading. Have a great day!
Obsessed
Malibu, California, May 4, 4:30 AM
It was way too early in the morning for this, Brittany Sampson thought, rolling over in bed and dragging a pillow over her head. Those stupid dogs barked day and night, no matter how many toys, treats and sparkly collars she gave them. The housekeepers had already fed them, so they weren't hungry. What the hell did they want? Her Rolls Royce? Her Tiffany diamond necklace? Her Kate Spade handbag?
Stupid yappy little morons, Brittany said to herself, stuffing her hands over her ears in a last-ditch attempt to block out the obscene noise. She should have gotten rid of them earlier.
Brittany stuffed her I-pod earbuds into her ears and cranked up the volume. The blaring pop music by some over-worshipped teen music idol drowned out the tinny barks of her annoyingly cute dogs and Brittany closed her eyes.
With a pillow over her head and her I-pod music so deafeningly loud, she never heard the footsteps entering her bedroom. She never saw the shadowy figure enter her bedroom and cross to her bed.
Brittany did, however, feel the hands wrap around her throat. They were muscular, tight, choking her. Her only and last conscience thought was,
Help me.
Quantico, Virginia, May 5, 7:30 AM
" I'm telling you, best movie of the year!" Derek Morgan insisted, setting down a cup of steaming coffee on his desk.
" Whatever. It put me to sleep." SSA Emily Prentiss said, dropping her bag and digging out a couple of old case files in preparation for the day's paperwork load.
" It really made me question humanity's view of reality versus an alternate universe. I mean, what is exactly the meaning of our dreams-" Dr. Spencer Reid began.
" Yeah!" Morgan joined in enthusiastically. " I mean, what if we're just asleep and this is all some big fancy dream?"
Prentiss rolled her eyes. David Rossi looked prepared to say something, possibly a phrase including the New York Times article he had written about dreams, when Hotch appeared on the stairs.
" New case?" Morgan asked. Hotch nodded.
The team filed inside the briefing room and took their usual seats at the table.
" This case calls us to Los Angeles, California." Hotch announced. Morgan raised his eyebrows. It had been a while since the team had been that far west. Sending the profilers all the way out to the land of fun in the sun meant something serious.
As if on cue, a photograph appeared on screen of a young woman lying in a large bed. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, pretty face, early twenties. Her hands were folded in front of her, clasped, and her eyes were closed. She might have been sleeping, except for the purple finger marks on her neck. She had been strangled to death.
" Brittany Sampson, age twenty-five. Found strangled to death in her Malibu home." Hotch said.
" Malibu…pretty nice neighborhood." Prentiss commented. " I assume it wasn't a robbery, though."
" Hey, Brittany Sampson…isn't she that reality TV star, made the headlines for cheating on her boyfriend a few weeks ago?" Morgan inquired. Prentiss smirked.
" Keeping up with the tabloids, Morgan?" She asked. He blushed.
" Is she the only victim?" Reid asked, steering them back on track. Hotch clicked the remote again, sending several images up onto the screen. They were washed-out crime scene photos, all of young women.
" Dina Mendle, age twenty-seven, found dead of strangulation in a motel room on Wilshire." Hotch gestured to another woman with blond hair, lying with her hands folded in a similar fashion to Brittany Sampson's in a cheap motel room.
" Rita Liston, age twenty-five, also found dead of strangulation in her Santa Monica home." Another blond-haired woman, lying in the same pose as the other two. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared almost peaceful. They all did. It was eerie.
" And no signs of sexual assault?" Prentiss asked. Hotch shook his head.
" So he strangles them, leaves them where he found them, but poses them first?" Morgan shrugged. " Seems like a serial killer to me."
" LAPD has requested our help on this one." Hotch announced. " A plane is waiting on the tarmac. Let's go."
Forty-five minutes later, the jet plane was cutting through the clouds above DC, headed for Los Angeles. The team sat inside, leafing through the case files, desperate for some clue to the murders.
" No DNA, no CCTV footage…nothing." Prentiss muttered. " Even the movie star. You'd think someone as rich and famous as that would have top-notch security."
Rossi stuck a pen between his lips and held one of the files up to the light.
" Yeah, this one's going to be hard to crack."
" They've called the right people." Morgan commented. " If anyone can find this scumbag, we can."
Lois McMaster Bujold once said " The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is the duty of the living to do so for them."
Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to tell me what you think in the reviews.