Eliza sat inside the conference room and tugged at the lace sleeves around her wrist. In the heat wave that so often gripped this area of Virginia, her long sleeves drew a lot of attention, but the scars she hid beneath them brought even more questions – questions she'd rather not answer.
She clutched the folder containing information from Inmate-46J321. Thomas Yates was dead and Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi would never need to visit the prison for the name and location of another victim. Eliza held those names in her lap, in a letter Thomas had left in his cell addressed to the agent.
She looked around at the room. A round table surrounded by seven chairs and a large white board off to one side. There was an intercom in the middle of the table and in the ceiling what looked to be a projector. Eliza could only imagine the pictures generated through it.
"Dr. Windham?"
Eliza stood and accepted the hand proffered to her.
"Yes, Agent Rossi?" While she'd never met the man, she would have recognized him anywhere. She had to admit the pictures on the dust jackets of his books didn't do him justice.
He nodded and motioned her back to the seat she'd vacated, while he perched at the end of the table.
Eliza opened the folder and produced the letter. "I'll get straight to the point, Agent Rossi. I understand that once a year you visited Thomas Yates for the name and location of another victim of his?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Are you aware that he died three nights ago?"
Eliza watched as Rossi rubbed his jaw. Apparently the warden had not passed along that information like he'd promised. The man was still angry Rossi had been able to pull the political strings needed when the prison had been on lock down, to visit Yates.
Eliza watched her companion. David Rossi radiated sex appeal like an icicle melting on a warm winter's day; there was a genuine self-assuredness about him. Not the phony stuff one read in books or saw on TV. David Rossi was the kind of man as much at home chasing down the bad guys as he would be at a black tie event for a visiting dignitary.
"What happened?" He asked.
"We're not sure. The autopsy will tell us more, but the ME said it looked like a heart attack."
Rossi only nodded. He opened the letter and read a line or two.
"You were his court appointed psychiatrist?"
Eliza nodded.
"He says here, you are the only other person he trusted."
Eliza shook her head, "I wish I could say I'm flattered, but…" she let the sentence fall away.
"I understand; my yearly visits to Tommy weren't exactly high on my list of fun things to do."
Eliza gave him what she hoped was an understanding smile. "Yet you kept coming."
He folded the letter and pocketed it, "I owed it to the families of those Tommy murdered."
Eliza doubted that was the only reason, "A penitence for all those you couldn't save?"
Eliza was use to pushing buttons. It was what made her one of the top criminal psychiatrist in the world.
She stood, "Well I've kept my promise. You have your letter and I really must be getting back to my office."
Rossi stood and opened the door for her to pass, Eliza stopped and put out her hand, "It was a pleasure meeting you Agent Rossi."
"The pleasure was all mine."
Fictitious words, said in passing without any real meaning behind them, yet for a brief moment Eliza wished he meant them.
As they left the room, Eliza watched a tall, broad shouldered man approached.
The man held up a folder and Eliza watched Rossi nod in silent understanding. "Hotch I want you to meet Dr. Eliza Windham, Dr. Windham – SSA Aaron Hotchner."
Eliza kept her face neutral, but she recognized the name. A colleague of hers who worked in Internal Affairs had been ordered to look into the events surround George Foyett's death. She'd been called in as an additional consult, but she'd agreed with her colleague. Aaron Hotchner was fit to return to duty.
"Windham?" His eyebrows knotted together as he tried to place her name. "Dr. Eliza Windham! The same Dr. Windham who presided over the psychiatric evaluation of the Senate review with the Ian Doyle cased?"
Eliza nodded.
She could feel Rossi's brown eyes staring at her.
Thankfully her cell vibrated and she reached for it, and excused herself. Something about the way David Rossi looked at her made her skin feel two sizes too small.
She spoke quietly to her assistant, but managed to hear Aaron Hotchner's comment.
"Dave, Strauss once told me she's our biggest supporter. She stood up against the Senate review board and has defended our unit at every budget and Internal Affairs meeting."
Eliza tuned out of their conversation as her assistant began the daily routine of outlining her schedule. She hung up and smiled at the two men. "Well, gentlemen my boss has informed me my calendar is full and she's threatening to jump ship if I don't return soon."
At Aaron's puzzled expression she continued, "My assistant. I think in a past life she must have been a drill sergeant, she keeps me busy to say the least."
Aaron smiled and Rossi laughed, "We have one of those – we call her Garcia."
At that moment a quirky young woman with bright red hair and an elaborate bow of purple and yellow sequins made her way towards them.
"Huh?" She looked at the two men.
"Penelope Garcia, this is…"
Eliza watched as her eyes widened in recognition.
"Oh my god! You're Eliza Windham!"
Eliza smile slightly. "Yes, have we met?"
Garcia shuffled the large stack of folders in her arms, as she put forth her hand, "Penelope Garcia – your assistant –Dorothy Mayfield – we're in theater group together. She says you're the greatest invention since sliced bread – or something like that."
Eliza could see this woman being friends with Dorothy. They both had the unique ability to talk without pausing or taking a breath.
"I could say the same about Dorothy," Eliza smiled, but was acutely aware Rossi was watching her every move. It was instinctual. When your life's work put you in daily contact with some of the world's most heinous criminals you developed a sixth sense about when you were being sized-upped.
Her cell buzzed again. Eliza sighed and again, politely excused herself.
There was something un-nerving about standing among the elite group of profilers. The close knit family impression that permeated around them was almost palpable. Psychiatric reviews of cases were common and she could quote intimate details of those this group worked on. She often found herself vehemently defending the crack group of profilers. She took a deep breath and released it. Her name was nothing more than a signature at the bottom of a document to this group, yet she felt a deep kinship to them.
She looked at the caller ID; Huntsville Correctional Facility – her stomach tighten. "Dr. Windham." She answered.
Eliza felt her knees weaken.
No.
She pressed the phone hard against her ear.
Dear God, no.
Garcia was handing a case file to Hotchner and by the look on his face, Eliza knew it was true.
John Carrington had escaped – and the body count was rising.
She hung up and swallowed the knot in her throat.
"You heard?" Aaron asked.
She nodded.
"Then you know you're our best lead on where and when Carrington will strike."
Eliza leaned against the railing above the bull pen of the BAU. Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, adrenaline washing away any strength she had in her legs.
"Wait a minute," Rossi looked at his friend. "John Carrington, AKA the Shredder?"
Hotchner nodded, "He escaped sometime last night, and the Sherriff department found a body in a ravine between Huntsville and Mills Acres. The young woman had been skinned alive."
Eliza dropped her briefcase and grabbed the railing with both hands, regretting the coffee and bagel she'd had on her drive to Quantico.
"I'm sorry Dr. Windham, but we could use your help if we're going to stop Carrington." Hotchner was beside her, and Rossi had picked up her briefcase.
"I think the first thing we need to do is get you a seat." Hotchner moved toward the vacated conference room.
Eliza looked at Garcia, "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate the opportunity to freshen up a bit first? Could you show me to the ladies room?" She hated the weakness in her voice but was grateful as the pretty young girl took her by the arm and led her out of the BAU.
Eliza pushed past Penelope and through a stall. Her stomach heaved and she felt dizzy.
The bathroom door opened and closed and Eliza was grateful for the moment's privacy. It wasn't long before she heard it open again.
"I have a cloth for you and a bottle of water here on the counter, Dr. Windham." Garcia's voice was full of sympathy.
Eliza leaned against the stall door. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, and ugh…"
Eliza recognized that tone of voice but kept quiet. There was more bad news.
"I'm sorry but Hotch says when you can, please join us in the conference room. You're on your way to Mills Acres."
Eliza pushed up the lace sleeve and looked at the deep gashes and scar tissue along her arms. Could she really live through this nightmare again?