Here is my next story! I'm excited about this one and I have to give credit where credit is due. The whistling idea came from my work place, many of my co-workers whistle and you can hear them going up and down the hall but unless you look you don't know who they are.
The craftiness of the killer was comprised with a friend and her genius ideas! Thank you so much JH!
This first chapter will touch on everything the story will cover and then as it goes we delve deeper!
I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!
Through pursed lips, air wafted through a narrow opening stringing sounds high and low, placed in varying rhythms that resonated loudly through the third floor. This perfectly crafted whistle carried itself in and out of cubicals, searching for a place to land. The sound was clean and crisp, it never faltered and yet hidden beneath its cover was a deadly agenda.
For a woman who continuously liked to work late found this sound, the whistling familiar. A comfort it almost became, knowing she was not all alone in the massive building, working tirelessly at a job she so enjoyed.
The whistling grew closer and a smile crept on her face. Recognizable footsteps had almost reached the opening of her cubical. She could hear the distinct limp shuffling across the thin carpeted floor, pushing a mail cart which contained a steady squeak that syncroniously flowed with the melodic whitsle. When the high pitched tune reached its climax it dropped suddenly into silence.
The woman looked up from the manuscript she was revising and said to the silent air, "Hey Ed, how are you doing tonight?" Silence followed. The woman's eyes furrowed with curiosity when there was no response. She placed her pen neatly on the desk and looked behind her, out of the entrance of her gray cubicle. Again she tried to entice a response, "You making your final rounds before heading home?" The questions were casual, almost scripted as they had been the past few months. Ocasionally there would be a question of, how's your family, thrown in here and there, otherwise it didn't get personal. The woman stood up and walked to the empty entrace leading out of her office space into the narrow hall. The hall was long seperating the seemingly endless rows of gray cubbyholes. She looked to her left first, the direction which Ed always approached, "Ed?" She called to him.
Suddenly a hand reached around her face, covering any words that might escape. The woman gasped, just as his palm pressed against her lips. She could taste the cigarette smoke infused in the fibers of the black leather glove. Frantically she tried to pull his hand down when she felt the cold touch of a metal blade press against her neck. Instinctively her body went stiff and the words she heard next came like a strong, deep, whisper, almost in-human, "Shhh, I'm not going to hurt you."
The woman could now hear the smile on his face as he breathed deeply.
A thing about a killer's smile is knowing that he has total control. For this un-sub in particular, he knew that by assuring his victim of her safety she would resist the urge to fight, giving in to his every need. This source of un-measurable power was the un-sub's point of climax, preceeding the ultimate act of playing God over life and death.
The woman felt the touch of the blade leave her neck, a moment of relief then without warning, a flicker of fluorescent light cascaded across the blade and that was the last thing she saw before it was plunged into her abdomen. She barely got out a whimper as her hands clutched the object protruding from her body. The event alone sucked the air from her lungs, leaving her breathless.
The un-sub turned her around so they were facing one another, for the purpose of her seeing him, knowing who killed her, the final moment of satisfaction, making the act complete.
"Ed?" The woman said before she fell to her knees. Blood gurgled up her throat and sputtered out of her mouth as she fought for her last few breaths.
Ed watched as her body convulsed to the floor, wanting to live. He liked this part, the victim fighting against the inevitable, it was entertainment, almost comical to him, he never understood why they didn't give in. The woman's eyes rolled in the back of her head. He stood towering above her, smiling like a cheshire cat, reveling in his works. Her soul was slowly ripped from her human form leaving nothing but a lifeless body. When he was sure she was dead he grabbed a red sharpie and wrote on the side of her face, GO HOME.
When Ed was finished he stood back up and in that moment heard the ding of an elevator, arriving on the floor. Just tall enough to look over the cubicles he adjusted his glasses and turned 90 degrees to face in the direction of the elevator. The big silver doors were closing, with no one in sight. Ed wasn't worried, he dismissed the idea of a possible witness knowing in his mind he was too clever to be caught.
Ed brushed his hands together, listening to the leather, swish, swish, swish, as if ridding himself of the deed. He laughed, a narcissist so sure of himself, living for this moment, a moment of freedom to be the monster he truly was. With a deep and assured breath he grabbed a 8 1/2 by 11 inch manilla envelope, it was now the real work began.
Emily trudged into the bull pen an hour late. Her hair had started forming ringlets from the terenchial rain, her clothes were sopping wet and her coat was draped over her arm. A black umbrella had attempted to be used but the metal hinge was protruding from the rain resistant fabric and her colleagues had only caught a glimpse of the malfunction, before it was chucked in the trashcan with a disgruntled sigh.
Un-wantingly making a scene she went over to her desk and plopped down in her seat.
Garcia walked over, "It's raining kitties and poodles out there."
"Don't remind me." Emily told her trying to catch her breath.
Meanwhile Morgan had took it upon himself to grab her a strong cup of coffee. He brought it over, "Here, this should help."
Emily grabbed the coffee and nearly chugged half of it.
JJ walked over, "Sleep much last night?"
Emily finished swallowing a huge gulp of coffee and before she could answer Reid interjected, "By the looks of the dark circles around her eyes, combined with the tiredness in her glare, along with the unorganized and messy way she entered the bull pen I would say it was definitley a late night."
Morgan had to keep himself from laughing. JJ and Garcia's eyes got big and they took a step back from an impending outburst.
Emily looked across her desk at the young genius glaring at him. She grabbed a blank piece of paper, crinkled it into a ball and chucked it at Reid's head.
This time Morgan, JJ and Garcia laughed, thankful that in her weary state Emily kept her sense of humor.
"What was that for?" Reid asked.
Emily pointed her finger at him, narrowing her eyes, "Your lucky I like you Dr. Reid." Emily told him, to tired to fight back. She stood to her feet, "I'm going to get more coffee."
Emily walked away and Reid looked at the other team members, "What did I say?"
JJ and Garcia just shook their heads and went back to work. Morgan on the other hand walked over to Reid, placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Pretty boy, let me give you a piece of advice, never point out a woman's flaws about her appearance, especially that of one Emily Prentiss."
"What do you mean?" Reid asked, "I was merely stating the truth." He said defensively.
Morgan gave up, throwing his hands in the air surrenduring. He went back over to his desk and began working on some case files leaving Reid to sit, wondering in confusion about what he said. After a few minutes Reid gave up on figuring out a solution and too went to work.
While normal bull pen antics had unfolded between the team, Rossi was waiting in his office anxiously anticipating a phone call. The cell phone lay in the middle of his empty desk as he waited and stared and finally his cell started to ring. He took a deep breath and answered without it going to a second ring, "David Rossi."
"Dave it's Melvin Maxwell, we found her." The news purged from his mouth as if to hold it in would be unbearable a moment longer.
Rossi nearly lost his breath, they found her, they finally found her. He suspected that the phone call was regarding a past he so long tried to forget and now, in this moment he was facing a buried past that was starting to surface all at once. His heart quivered and his breathing struggled as the tears flooded his eyes. After all these years, it was over, but Rossi questioned, What good could come of it? She wasn't his anymore she was somebody elses.
Melvin heard Rossi's breathing become insufficient and uncontrolled. So many years of supressed torment was now forced to the surface, but there was good news to come. Melvin let the news sink in for but a brief moment and continued. "We were finally able to infiltrate their illegal adoption ring. Currently we are recovering many of the children..." Melvin sighed, "It's been heartbreaking. Good families have been ripped apart. They had no idea what they were doing was illegal."
Rossi could hardly wait a moment longer. He wanted to know about her, about his daughter. "How did you find her?"
"The illegal adoption agency kept records on all of the children that were taken. We have been running their pictures against pictures in our missing children database and we found a match."
Rossi could hear Melvin becoming emotional. He had worked so many years on these open abduction cases and finally, fullfilling resolution.
"I know it's a little too late for Ellen." Melvin told Rossi, his voice shaking, forcing the words through poignant breaths of air. "I wish she would have...been alive..." Melvin couldn't complete his sentence. He took a moment to collect himself, trying to stop the tears that were streaming down his face. The Rossi's were one of those couples he had come to know personally, in the wake of tragedy, letting them know he wouldn't give up and that one day, he would find their daughter.
Rossi felt an old pain ripping at his heart. It was as if both life changing events collided, waying down his soul. There was one feeling however that out-weighed the bad and that was hope. His daughter was found. It had been 31 years since his daughter was taken from their home. Rossi clutched his free fist and tried to remain steady as he spoke, "Ellen would be happy to know you found her. She loved you Melvin and knew you would never give up, even if it meant the rest of your life." Rossi told Melvin, trying to offer the slightest bit of comfort.
"Thank you." Melvin replied.
Rossi couldn't bare it a moment longer, "I need to know Melvin, was she raised by a good family? Is she okay?"
"Your not going to believe this Dave." Melvin sniffled, feeling a joy blanket his heart.
Rossi could hear Melvin smiling through the phone, although he was growing frustrated with the wait, "Please Melvin tell me, what is it?"
"Your daughter is Emily Prentiss." Melvin waited for a response. He knew Rossi well, where he worked and who he worked with. Over the years their relationship had grown into a friendship and on a frequent basis they shared in one another's lives. "Dave, you have a beautiful daugher, one any dad would be proud of." Melvin knew Rossi worked with Emily and that the news of who his daughter is would come as a shock, more so than finding his daughter.
Dad. Rossi said the word to himself, that alone caused him to swell with pride. The news was heartstopping and yet gratifying. The only thing Rossi could think to say was, "Thank you.", and without another word he hung up. He couldn't bare to speak another moment longer. His stomach bubbled with nauseating excitement. He leaned back in his chair only to propel himself onto his feet. He walked over to his office window and looked out, there she was, his daughter, Emily Prentiss. Rossi closed his blinds just as he began to sob. Wearily he sat back down in his chair, overwhelmed.
Just a few doors down, at the end of the catwalk, Hotch was in his office analyzing the puzzling behavior of two of his agents.
Hotch's main concern was for Emily. The last case had affected her personally, stirring up long buried emotion that couldn't help but surface. It was understandable that his agents would become emotionally involved or have a hard time in the field every now and then, but something about this particular case was different for Emily. Emily was the agent who could compartmentalize and overcome any emotional barriers to get the job done, but this last case proved to be too much.
Hotch distinctly remembers the moment Emily became affected.
Together they were analyzing a young girl's room, the scene of an abduction. The room was quiet and showed no characteristics of a struggle. The walls were lined with Care Bears, white nursery furniture and pink curtains fluttered in the open window.
Emily went into the room diligently working the scene, giving her analysis of what took place when she reached the window and her voice tapered off. Hotch distinctly remembers the abrupt silence and watched as Emily's body physically coated with fear. Her eyes closed and she gasped, falling backwards into the dresser, sending the breakable bear trinkets flying into the air.
Hotch bolted forward barely catching her before she reached the floor, "Prentiss?"
Emily heard her name, but couldn't respond. She was in a different place, from a long time ago. She felt scared, alone and vulnerable.
Hotch caught Emily just under her arms, guiding her gently to the floor. "Prentiss?"
The second time Emily heard her name she sat up on her own.
Hotch moved to kneel in front of Emily, looking at her, obviously disconnected from reality. Her eyes were terror stricken and confused. "Prentiss?"
No response.
Hotch grabbed Emily's shoulder, gave her a little shake and more forcefully said, "Prentiss."
Emily jerked back to the present and shuffled to her feet, face flushing with embarassment.
Hotch paralled her motion also standing to his feet. When they were standing Hotch went to place a hand under her elbow, to steady her and Emily pulled away.
"I'm fine. I'm sorry. I need some air." Emily made a speedy exit out of the room.
Another word was never said about the matter and this is what concerned Hotch. Something was going on and he didn't know how to address it. Part of his hesitation in confronting the situation were his own feelings for Emily. This however was not something he was willing to tackle at the moment and he switched his concentration to Rossi when he heard a knock on his door. He turned to his right and saw JJ poking her head in.
When JJ caught Hotch's glance she spoke, "We have a case." Stepping in his office she held out the file, "This just came across my desk."
"How many victims?" Hotch asked.
"Three, but there's a catch and honestly it gets kind of crazy for lack of a better word."
Hotch flips open the folder, "Three suspects?" he questioned, eyeing JJ curiously.
"Yes but there's a catch." JJ smiled, "I have to give him credit, the un-sub is clever."
Hotch read into the file and when he saw what JJ was smiling about he closed the file, "Gather the team, we will brief in five minutes."
There you have it! I'm excited for future chapters and I'm happy to hear what you think! Thanks for reading!