My first fanfic. Please read and review! Enjoy!
The Basement
A single bulb dangles from the ceiling, its dim glow casting shadows on the wall and on the faces of three people.
A struggling man is tied to a chair, trying in vain to escape. His wrists are rubbed raw from the ropes holding him down, his breath is gone, and his head pounds from the punch delivered to him when he had tried to resist his attacker.
His wife is past trying, so she sits still with her eyes closed, praying that someone will find and save them.
Their five year old son is bound to another chair; his wide eyes and quick breathing indicate that he is scared. No, more like terrified. Terrified that he may never see the light of day again. Terrified of what will become of his parents. But most of all, terrified of his attacker, who surely plans to return.
Seconds later or maybe it is minutes, a door opens somewhere above them. A shred of light shines down on the stairs, but it disappears as the door is closed. They cringe as they hear the heavy footsteps coming closer. The dad stops fighting and narrows his eyes, making out a dark figure stopped at the bottom of the stairwell, holding something blunt in his hands.
"What do you want?" The dad calls out, watching the person's every move.
"I just want answers." The voice drawls.
The dad bites his lip before replying, "I'll give you anything that you want. Please just let my family go."
"But you see, I can't do that."
"Why not?" The dad cries out.
"Because you're not the one that's keeping secrets."
In the limited light, the dad thinks he sees the eyes of their abductor flit over to his wife. But she doesn't keep secrets. The man thinks to himself.
"I don't have any secrets." His wife says, shaking her head.
"We'll see about that." The person moves the object that they are holding into the light.
The glint of a sharp blade makes the dad start pulling against the ropes again, as the kidnapper steps toward their son.
"Leave him out of this!" He yells, attempting to stand up and rush toward him.
A laugh rings out and before they know it, their son is being dragged out at knife point.
…..
Hotchner's Apartment
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Hello." Hotchner mumbles into the phone, sitting up in bed.
"Hotch. We have a case. We need to get started immediately." JJ informs him.
Hotch groans, quiet enough that JJ can't hear. After landing 6 hours ago from a tedious case in Detroit, all he wants is some well-deserved rest, however, instead of voicing his opinion he responds, "I'll be right in. Contact the rest of the team, will you?"
"Of course," JJ replies.
They hang up and Hotchner throws a clean pair of black pants and a button down shirt on. He grabs his badge and gun from his bedside table, putting them in his pocket.
He grabs his coat and heads out the door, forgetting momentarily about the pot of coffee he surely needed to get through the day.
He enters the bureau and starts towards his office, when a hand locks onto Hotchner's wrist. Hotch whips around, coming face to face with his section chief, Mateo Cruz.
"May I speak to you?"
Hotch follows Cruz to his office, "What is it?"
"This is about your next case. It's local. Your team will be working side by side with the Metropolitan P.D. I expect this case to be closed quickly. Try not to get too personally involved. If it happens, I will have to remove your team from the case."
Hotchner regards him with caution, but nods his approval and strides out of his office. JJ is waiting at the door to his office, but she is not alone.
"It's nice to see you again," Aaron shakes William LaMontagne's hand.
"You too. Too bad this encounter comes at a price. 4 victims so far." William hands Hotchner the case file.
Hotchner opens the case file. Half a dozen pictures of families smile up at him, along with the medical forms from their deaths.
"We have a case." JJ repeats.
Hotchner nods solemnly, "Round everyone up in the conference room, JJ. William, can I speak to you?"
"Yeah sure," Will and Hotch walk into his office.
JJ smiles, encouragingly, before turning and walking off to find the team.
"Will. Are you going to be okay? Working this case, I mean?" Hotch looks seriously at him.
"Of course. What makes you think otherwise?"
"I just don't want you making a stupid mistake because you're trying to protect JJ. I need to know that I can trust you to make good judgmental calls and keep your head, even if JJ is hurt or in trouble."
William nods in response, avoiding eye contact.
"I know that marriage changes things. And things can get out of hand if-" Hotchner stops and tries to push the thoughts of Haley away.
"If someone you love is in trouble." He finishes after a long, silent pause.
"I know that. And I respect your opinion, but JJ is capable of taking care of herself. She doesn't need me to protect her. That's what her gun is for."
Hotch smiles in spite of himself and hands the file back to Will, "I want you to present this case to the team. After all, it is your case."
Hotch leads the way out of his office and closes the door behind William. He pours himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and enters the conference room.
His team is waiting patiently in the room, most with bloodshot eyes from the lack of sleep obtained recently.
"You all remember Will, right?" JJ gestures to the man standing in the back.
Everyone nods and a few shake his hand as Will awkwardly shuffles to the front of the room, where Garcia hands him the clicker. With a click of the remote, several photos pop up.
"The first victims were 18 year olds Marianne Taplin and Roy Kelly. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Parents say they had been going out for almost a year before this." Another click brings up the postmortem pictures. Their faces are swollen and badly bruised; the rest of their bodies don't look any better.
JJ and Prentiss turn away from the horrid sight, pushing away the thought of what the family members have gone through and how many more will suffer if they don't solve this case quickly.
"They were about to start college. Parents say they were great kids. They were found in Marianne's apartment, beaten to death. Their parents reported them missing two days before their bodies were found."
"Last week, Kristy Reynolds and her 7 year old son, Blake, were murdered. Kristy ran a daycare center from her home. Parents showed up to drop off their kids, but Kristy wasn't home. They were kept somewhere for three days before they were found dead in their home. Same as the last two. However, the son wasn't touched; he had one bullet wound through the chest. The mother was beaten rather badly, though."
"What about the dad?" Morgan asks.
"He died of cancer three years ago. Yesterday, a family was reported missing. Rachel Evinns, her husband Sean and their son Zack. Sean returned home from the Marine Corps a week ago. Rachel was a single parent while he was away; she works full time at a hospital. They were supposed to show up for a barbeque yesterday. The host called them multiple times; no answer, so he went to their house. They weren't there. That was when he filed the report."
"Anything to connect these cases?"
"Nothing substantial yet. Oh, I almost forgot." Will frantically opens one of the case files and holds something up for everyone to see, "These were found on all four bodies."
Everyone glances down at the paper Will is holding. They are photocopies of letters; the top two are from the mom and her son. One of the letters has one line, the other one is longer. The shorter of the two letters is written sloppily, the kid's handwriting. The other letter was written by the mother; the letters slant downward, as if written with a shaky hand.
"Mommy, this isn't your fault. I just hope that I get to see dad when I die. Goodbye," Morgan reads aloud.
"I just want you to know that soon I'll be in better hands. Natalie, take care of mom and dad for me. Tell them that I love them and that I'll miss them." JJ stutters.
"Wait, look here. Something is whited out." Rossi points to the lines between the closure and the body paragraph.
"We already tried to find out what was written below, but we've had no luck." Will sighs.
"Maybe it was a clue about our unsub. That would explain why it's crossed out. I think the unsub makes them write these letters. It makes him feel like he's in control." Reid points out, moving his hands around in the air.
"Could our unsub be a female?" Prentiss adds.
"Possibly, however women typically don't have this much rage built up. They wouldn't physically beat their victims."
"Reid's right. It's uncommon for a woman to do this, but not unheard of." Rossi explains.
"Let's get to it." Hotch starts, "JJ and Morgan, talk to the family of the most recent murder. Reid, work on the geographical profile and these letters. Prentiss, talk to the first families. Rossi and I will talk to the family of the latest abductees."
"What do you want me to do?" Will speaks up.
"Round up your men. Stake out the Evinn's house. Look for any clues as to where the unsub might have taken them. Any signs of a struggle. Anything that can help us. If this unsub follows pattern, he'll want to dump their bodies at their house. I don't want the street lined with cop cars, only unmarked cars. If he feels even in the slightest that we're watching him, he'll dump the bodies elsewhere. I want to know about any and all cars that drive up the street, even if they don't seem suspicious. Okay?"
"Sure thing." Will answers.
….
"Dad, please help me." The boy pulls against his restraints, tears streaking down his cheeks.
The dad tries to remain calm, "Don't worry. I'm going to get us out of this, I promise."
"You shouldn't make promises that you can't keep." Someone says from above.
"Please, let us go. I'll tell you anything that you want to know. Please." The mom begs, talking for the first time.
"Where do you go every day?" The person moves down the stairs.
"I go to work." She utters, bewildered.
"Where does poor little Zack go when you're at work?"
"He goes to his babysitter's house. What does it matter?" The mom yanks her hand away from the armrest of the chair.
"How does that make you feel, Zack?" Their abductor addresses the boy cowering in the corner.
He shakes his head, staring intently at the ground.
"Huh?" The voice rings out again.
"I don't like her." Zack whispers.
"Why didn't you just tell us? Is that what this is about, where my son goes while I'm at work?" The mom jolts forward, teeth bared.
"What do you do when your shift finishes at 6?"
"What are you talking about?" The mom acts like she doesn't know what's happening.
"Your shift ends at 6, but you don't pick Zack up until 8. What do you do after work?" The voice repeats the question.
"Fine. I go out for a couple of drinks sometimes. It's no big deal." The mom looks down at the ground, ashamed.
"Honey…" Her husband mutters.
"And you…you're a pathetic excuse for a dad." The person steps out of the shadow, thrusting his bat into the dad's stomach.
The wind is knocked out of his lungs. He gasps for air, like a fish out of water. "Please. Please. Please." He wheezes in between blows.
The wife sobs, kicking her feet on the ground, attempting to reach her husband.
"Please stop." A small voice pipes up. It's Zack.
The dad cringes, waiting for the next blow, but it doesn't come. He feels the attacker leave and watches him creep closer to his son.
"Why?" A smirk climbs its way onto their attacker's face.
"Because I love him." Zack meets the person's eyes.
"Even after what I told you about him?"
Zack nods.