Mind of a Fanatic

Louisiana State Pen six months ago………….

Father Peter Dupree fastened his clerical collar around his neck for the first time in twelve long years as he prepared for his release from prison. He'd spent most of his sentence in the Louisiana State Penitentiary and was now being released for good behavior. In that time, he had been a model prisoner; volunteering for the worst and most menial tasks. Even the guards came to have a regard for him and his willing attitude, a few spoke on his behalf during his most recent parole hearing, winning him his release.

Father Dupree viewed his incarceration as penance for being a faulty instrument of God; he hadn't saved the souls of those girls, he hadn't brought them to the Light, the contentment of God's love… He hadn't taught them a woman's proper place in the world; made them see the error of their mannish careers… He needed to atone for his sin of false pride; he saw his release as God's forgiveness, he was being given a second chance to redeem himself in God's eyes. Dupree knew exactly where to start. It would mean breaking the conditions of his parole, but God came above the law… God made the law. Yes, he knew exactly where to start. She had been so pretty a dozen years ago, so feminine, yet she chose an unsuitable, masculine career, denying her calling as a woman to be a wife and mother…He had no doubt that she was defying God's will; he had kept up on her. It was easy, really. She had a unique name and she had made quite a reputation for herself. So much so that she had been recruited for the top crime lab in the south and had been in Miami for ten years. He read of each of her mannish accomplishments since then; each one an insult to God. More than anything, he desired to bring her to God. He had promised her at his trial. They would be each other's redemption...

Miami Dade crime lab present day……

"Eric, did you get anything from the mass spec yet?" Calleigh asked as she breezed into Trace. There was a tell-tale bounce in her step and a bright sparkle in her eyes that spoke of her normally bubbly attitude taken to another level. She was having an unusually good day.

Eric looked up from the computer screen and smiled at her. He loved to see her like this; happy. "Nothing yet; so what put the wind in your sails today?"

"The sky is clear, birds are singing, I got a great price on gas and Hank Kerner lost yet another appeal for parole." She shrugged nonchalantly. "How could I not be having a good day?"

Eric laughed as the mass spec beeped and spat out a readout. He retrieved it. "It looks like your luck is holding. This says-" Calleigh held up her hand as her cell rang.

She looked at the caller ID. "Hang on a minute, Eric…..Duquesne…..Hey, Tony! How are you? You've gone back? Great. They really need you…..Ok, I know that tone. What's wrong?" Her sunny disposition vanished in the space of a single heartbeat. The color drained from her face and she began to tremble ever-so-slightly. She turned her back to Eric to hide her sudden distress. "What do you mean he's out? Parole? Oh dear God…..No, Tony, I'm fine; or I will be once the shock wears off. When did he make parole?"

She leaned back against the lab table as her legs went to rubber at the answer. "Six months ago? They lost contact with him when? Oh, ok. Thanks for the heads up, Tony. Give my love to Pam and the kids…..Yeah……Bye."

She cut the connection, crossed her arms over her chest and tried to beat the panic down.She was reeling, she knew it. Fear had taken up a hard balled residence in her stomach. She remembered the trial and the threat. She remembered looking into his eyes and knowing that he had meant every word. He would follow through with it… Now he was out and missing for the last three months; it was more than enough time to find her and make preparations. She was so lost in her own thoughts that when a gentle hand landed on her shoulder she nearly leapt out of her skin with a startled yelp.

"What's wrong?" Eric asked, deeply concerned at Calleigh's very abrupt mood change. He knew she could sometimes be a bit mercurial, but this was something different; almost manic.

She attempted a weak smile. "I'm fine, Eric. I just got a little bad news. I'm fine."

"Bullshit. Don't lie to me, Calleigh." Eric gave her a hard look. He could see the fear in her eyes and it made him want to know even more. Fear was not something he associated with Calleigh "You're not fine; that phone call upset you in a major way. Talk to me."

"I'm not upset." She said, the words sounding hollow to her own ears. "I'm fine."

"Calleigh, you said that you trust me with your life." Eric held her by the shoulders and was surprised to feel her trembling beneath his hands. It had to be bad, very bad. "Don't give me the old 'I'm fine' because we both know you're not. You're shaking; you're obviously upset. Talk to me."

"I do trust you, Eric." Calleigh hung her head in defeat. Eric was right and she knew it. She was touched deeply by his fierce concern. It gave her a sense of comfort, which she needed badly at the moment. "It's not that. I just…I'm not sure how to start."

She took a deep breath to steady her voice. "Uhm, it was about a dozen years ago, I guess; I was a relatively new CSI back in New Orleans. It was the first investigation that I got to lead and it all seemed pretty straight forward at first. It was a hit and run, but the vic's condition was weird; she was beaten and tortured before the accident. She was dressed in this bizarre animal skin tunic and I can't even begin to enumerate the wounds. I won't go into the details of the investigation, but it lead us back to the scene of the first crime; the abduction and subsequent torture of the woman. The room, torture chamber really, was like a scene straight out of Hell; with every torture device known to man, and a few that even Torquemada couldn't dream up. And there was a lot of red; old and new. She wasn't the first, not by a long shot; more like the fifth. We discovered that the other four were in the state mental hospital."

Calleigh stopped, struggling for composure. She knew she was scaring Eric by how tight his grip was on her arms. "I was the lead in the case; it was our lab and my testimony that put him away. During the trial he kept referring to his torture chamber as "the Chapel", his victims "Penitents" and the torture as "Catechism". He claimed he was trying to save them, make them see the error of their ways and bring them to God. As he was being led away, he looked directly into my eyes and promised that when he got out he would do his best to save me and bring me to God; that was twelve years ago. He made parole six months ago, and they lost track of him three months later. Eric, that's plenty of time to follow through on his threat."

"Do you think he'll actually follow through on it?" Eric asked, wanting to erase her fear, but not knowing how.

"It's not a question of if, but when. He's going to come after me the first chance he gets." Calleigh said with utter conviction in her voice. "Peter Dupree; Father Peter Dupree; no one, not any criminal I've put away since scares me like he does."

"Then we need to tell H." Eric replied quietly.

Horatio sat in silent contemplation behind his desk. Calleigh had just finished telling him the story and was now pacing his office like a caged animal, clearly more agitated than she had been when she came in. He had never seen her as upset or unsettled before; normally she was a tower of strength, the epitome of grace under pressure. There had to be more to the story for it to have gotten under her skin like it obviously had. What aren't you telling me …?

He rose and stepped into her path; which effectively stopped her pacing, unless she was willing to walk over him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, surprised at how hard she was shaking. She was terrified…Honest to God terrifed. He'd seen that look before, on Jennifer Wilson's face ... Sometimes the devil was real … He wanted to pull her into an embrace to still her, comfort her, but knew it wasn't appropriate. "Ok, let's get all the facts first. We'll contact NOPD and get the information. We'll talk to his parole officer and see if Dupree has left New Orleans. There may be nothing to worry about. Let's not put the cart before the horse, here."

"Alright; you're right. I'm so sorry this has me so rattled, Horatio." Calleigh nodded, closing her eyes; he was speaking reason, she knew. Horatio Caine; the rock of Miami … The whole world could be going to hell around him and he'd merely blink a few times and meet it head on …. "It's just, well, the only thing that made me sleep securely on those first nights after his trial was knowing that he'd be in prison for a long time. Now he's out, apparently missing, and I'm having a very hard time believing that he's forgotten all about his threat. Horatio, you have to understand; he's Stewart Otis, Walter Resden, Antonio Riaz and Clavo Cruz all rolled into one. He doesn't kill his victims; he tortures them until their minds snap, then he lets them go. Now I know that I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. But…..two of his victims were bigger and physically stronger than I am. One was a semi pro boxer and the other a firefighter. Our dead vic was a cop. If he could do that to them….." She broke off, looking down. She couldn't ever remember feeling so afraid since the trial. She didn't fear for her life, she feared for her sanity. If he got a hold of her, how much could she take before she broke? He would let her live, she knew that; but she'd be changed forever, like those poor women she saw in the mental institution, unable to say anything beyond Bible quotes and strings of Latin that she didn't understand. She needed Horatio to understand that. "I can handle the physical-"

"I know. I do understand, Calleigh. Until we know where this guy is, you are not going to be alone outside the lab. If he's here to make good on his threat, he's going to try to take you while you're alone, so you won't be."

Her first reaction was to balk at the idea of having a babysitter, but what he said made sense. "Thank you, Horatio. I appreciate this. I, uhm, probably should get back to work now. I've taken up enough of your time."

Reluctantly, he let go of her shoulders and gave her a ghost of a smile. "No worries, ma'am."

"Lt. Caine," Claudia tapped on Horatio's doorframe, crossing his office and laying a stack of papers on his desk. "This just came over the fax for you and the crime scene photos are printing on the scanner; I'll bring those to you when they're done."

Horatio took the papers and rose. "Thank you, Claudia. I'll get them myself. He followed her to the scanner and collected the photos, looking through them. He returned to his office and began reading the case file, matching pictures of the vics to the details in the file.

No wonder Calleigh's so rattled. This had to be a waking nightmare to investigate, he thought, sipping his coffee. His cell rang. "Horatio…..yes, thank you for calling back…..He's been gone for three months and you still haven't located him yet? Sorry; but that doesn't cut it. I have a CSI that is now in immanent danger because you couldn't keep track nor apprehend one single criminal. You couldn't find your ass with both hands and a map. If anything happens to my CSI, it'll be on your heads. Have a nice day."

Idiots!

Horatio cut the connection; he was absolutely furious. It seemed that Calleigh had every right to be terrified. She was now directly in harm's way and he had no idea how to break it to her without sending her into a panic. Even when they didn't know all the facts, she had been cranked into an acute state of fear. That made him extremely concerned about her reaction when he did give her the facts.

Horatio thumbed through the file and photos again, taking in specific details this time. He shuddered to think of any of it happening to Calleigh. They had to make certain the guy never touched her… It was time to rally the troops ….