Bayou Petit Caillou, Louisiana
2:30 pm
"Ambroise! I am goin' to da magasin. Do you wanna come wit' me?"
"Nah! Dey jus' make fun of me."
"Alright. Slow the tv, though. I'm takin' da truck and Gator!"
"Bye, Mimi!"
Milou smiled briefly, before it faded again and she stepped out of the house onto the thin rope bridge that led to the nearest plot of solid land with their old beat-up truck. They were far enough out that they had to venture in for supplies now and then. Mostly, she and her brother lived off the land, though. She loved Ambroise, never let anyone make fun of him in school, so she refused to let anyone do so now. She watched out for him and he hunted for her. There was plenty of food to find in the swap and their father had made sure to teach them.
Thank you, Daddy. I promise no one will hurt us again.
Gator, a purebred Catahoula hound, crept up out of the water and shook furiously to dry himself. Milou's nose wrinkled a little.
"Arrête sa, Gator, ya idiot, c'mon," she said, before making a short, high-pitched yip like a fox.
It made the big dog's tail wag furiously and he hopped into the passenger seat like it was his throne. She followed and slammed the door.
Gator whined.
"Don' look at me like dat, dog. You'd tink takin' down dat old gator when you were two, dat you'd be some kinda brave." A pothole made both of them almost knock their heads against the ceiling.
She knew why it was that Gator was uneasy, though. Even she could smell the blood she hadn't been able to wash away. The humidity made it reek.
"Sa me fait de la pain, I'll make Ambroise clean nex' time."
Cocodrie, Louisiana
3:00 PM
"Why, Miss Milou! It been a month already?"
She laughed. "No, not quite. Ambroise is still growing! We need new supplies for his hearty appetite and material so I can let ou' his clothes."
Madame just smiled gently. "Ya give dat boy a hug fer me, ya hear? It a shame he won' come no more. We miss spoilin' him."
Milou smiled more, her blue eyes actually warming. "Yeah, he misses ya, too. I will try harder nex' time. He'll have to, to try on boots."
"You are lovely, Milou, as always."
"No," she answered, voice suddenly cold. "I'm not. Not anymore."
She walked away, Gator staying to bed for scraps. Madame watched the twenty-year-old go, pity in her eyes. The locals knew how she'd rushed into the burning houses after Katrina to rescue anyone trapped inside. No one had been able to stop her and someone had gone to fetch Ambroise to get him to hold her back. By that time, Milou was trapped inside with no one willing to get her. No one, but Ambroise. Poor, mentally challenged Ambroise. Madame Lafayette wasn't surprised the two siblings never really forgave the town. The locals gave discounts out of guilt, but no one really blamed them. Ambroise certainly never forgave them.
Milou rubbed absently at her arm, hating how uneven and rough the texture was. The skin grafts never grew back smooth. She'd never be pretty again. Ever. No man would look at her again without flinching. Only Ambroise could do that. Only Ambroise loved her.
"Only Ambroise…"
Eyes hard, she stormed into the store she'd come to town for.
She and Ambroise were going to New Orleans tomorrow.
French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
1:14 AM
Aimee glanced around the bar, nodding her head a little to what Britney, her best friend, was saying. Her foot absently tapped the beat in the air; for once her friend actually picked a good place to go for a break from school. New Orleans was full of raw, sexual energy and Aimee was smitten everytime some local opened his mouth. Only Britney, still not quite over her football-captain ex-boyfriend, kept her from going on the prowl.
Finally, she had enough.
"C'mon, Brit, live a little," she teased, interrupting her companion mid-complaint. "David is miles away and we've got all these sexy men to pary with. Fuck him and play!"
Britney shot her a glare from behind her stylishly kinked blonde hair. "What sexy men are you talking about?" she snapped, annoyed with her friend for not letting her brood. She hadn't planned for David to dump her before this trip!
"Tch." Aimee rolled her eyes and looked back at the pulsating throng of bodies as it swayed to a sexually charged beat. She wanted to escape her party-pooper friend and join in so bad.
As if in answer to her prayers, a lean, muscular figure made its way over to her. Her eyes traced the valleys made by the muscles revealed by the barely buttoned shirt. Even in the dark club, she could tell the man's skin was a healthy sun-kissed brown. Her eyes slowly slid upwards to find a pair of deep chocolate eyes peering at her from under black bangs that fell haphazardly into the Cajun angel's face. His eyes burned with something like untapped passion, and Aimee felt a throb of pleasure go through her.
Thank you, Jesus!
Silent, the gorgeous guy held out a large, strong hand for hers, and helped her up from the stool. He then brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Her heart fluttered.
Sending Britney a triumphant grin, she allowed him to pull her out on the dance floor. It must be her lucky night!
"My name's Aimee!" she shouted over the music.
The stranger just gave her an indulging smile with perfect teeth, but said nothing. Instead, he stopped in the middle of the floor and pulled her flush against his warm, hard body. She flirtatiously arched her back like a cat, pushing her chest up and towards him a little as she tilted her head back. She missed his gaze straying to the exit longingly, and his dark gaze back on her again when she straightened.
"Hey, what's your name?" she asked.
His response was to slowly grind himself against her, pelvis to pelvis with his knee pressed between her legs just enough that he could feel her moist hidden places rubbing against the top of his jeans. More importantly, Aimee could feel it, too. She moaned in spite of herself and forgot to ask him how anything earlier.
Her arms snaked around his neck to pull him down, and if he had bent without a sound. She pressed her lips hungrily against hers.
From the bar, Britney watched in both disgust and dismay. The boy was fine, and coming to New Orleans was her idea. Besides, she was the one just got dumped! Why hadn't he come to her? Aimee was slutty enough she got any guy, and almost every guy, that she wanted.
As she watched, the mystery man beckoned her over with the wiggle of his finger. Britney wasn't sure if it was that, or the fact his smoldering gaze was on her even though his lips were captured by Aimee's. See? She's not that much of a catch if he wants me while he's with her, she told herself, pushing off the bar with a smirk and heading over.
Aimee blinked a little, but dismissed it. No attachments sex meant she was perfectly fine with sharing. Besides, Britney and herself would give the sexy stranger a night to remember, no doubt about it!
French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
5:30 AM
Detective Benoit stood outside the New Orleans Police Department, staring down at the lump of flayed flesh in disgusted dismay. It was much too early in the morning for this type of business; he hadn't even had his donuts and coffee yet! Dieu, this is getting old, he thought, wearily rubbing his eyes.
What was this, the tenth one? And they never did find the bodies, either. The killer was smart enough to let the swamp be nature's own clean-up crew. Unless the DNA was already in the system, no one could identify the victims. There were that many families wondering where their daughters had gone. He hated it.
Rubbing at his eyes, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed an old friend.
"Hey, Will, it's Benoit. Do you still have dat number of da FBI fille you was datin'?" He waited, pulling out the cliché notepad and pen. "Merci, mais yeah, we got a new one, pais de bêtises."
He tucked the pen away and sighed. "I gotta call dis in. Au revoir."
After he hung up, he stepped up the first few stairs leading into the police headquarters. The phone would be practically glued to his ear all day, he knew it already.
First things first, though. He needed to call the forensics guys to process the "scene" and clean it up before anyone called the news networks. He wanted as many details out of the press as possible, as there really weren't many details to work with.
Then he would call that FBI woman.
Translation of Cajun French:
laissez le bon temps rouler - let the good times roll
magasin - store
Arrête sa - stop it
Sa me fait de la pain - I'm sorry
Dieu - God
fille - girl
merci - thanks
mais yeah - but yes
pais de bêtises - no joking
au revoir - goodbye
Disclaimer:Louisiana and it's respective cities/towns belong to itself. Criminal Minds and it's characters belong to CBS and it's affliates.