This story is set during Season 6, seven months after episode 6.08 "Reflection of Desire" to which it refers. It assumes that JJ's return will happen after this story and that the Lauren/Prentiss storyline never happened, or not yet, anyway. In other words, this story should have happened in February, but it needed to be set in June to really work, and I did not want to get rid of Prentiss, nor Seaver... Thank you for allowing this discrepancy! (BTW I love JJ, as you can see in my previous story, "The Pardon". If you have not checked it, please do it now, as it will soon become obsolete / irrelevant once Season 7 starts...).
This story will be quickly updated, daily. It is not beta'd, all mistakes are mine - please give feedback and corrections.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own copyrights to Criminal Minds or its characters. They are borrowed only for pleasure, without any gain, financial or other.
QUOTE:
"Family life is too intimate to be preserved by the spirit of justice. It can be sustained by a spirit of love which goes beyond justice."
- Reinhold Niebuhr
[TEASER:]
On a warm June evening, near Princeton University, as strollers throughout the city enjoyed the city's night life, one couple at a bus stop was, unknowingly, receiving much focused attention from a solitary man sitting in his pick-up truck. Parked under shady trees a fair distance away, but equipped with binoculars, he was observing the petite black-haired woman smile to her companion as she accepted a piece of paper offered by the man. The city bus approached and made its stop; the girl stepped on the bus and the man waved goodbye. The bus headed first in the direction of the truck then turned north on the nearby cross-street, obstructing the view down the street for a moment. The observer turned on his engine, but waited, still hiding in the darkness as he watched the now lone man slowly walking away, turning a corner, and heading south on the next cross-street. The driver hesitated as a patrol car went by. Then, turning on his headlights, he drove up to that same corner and stopped at the intersection, unsure if he should turn the corner and follow; but seeing the man walk to the local bar filled with music and loud voices, he dismissed the bar's parking lot that was constantly checked by the police and headed north instead. He needed a parking spot not too close, not too far, discreet enough to not attract attention, but with a view of the bar's entrance...
OOOOOOOOOO
It was dark inside the apartment and much too late for a boy his age to be up, but Jack peeked down the hallway and listened to the moans coming from his father's room. He had heard these sounds before, but now knew what to do. Calmly, resolutely, he walked to the bedroom, opened the door, and approached the bed; he needed to wake up his dad who was having a bad dream, so he gently shook Hotch's shoulder.
"No... Stop!" mumbled Hotch, still asleep.
"Daddy! Dad! Wake up!" Jack tried to rouse his father more forcefully. "You're dreaming!"
At the sound of Jack's voice, Hotch was instantly awake. Concerned about the boy, he reached for him.
"What are you doing up, buddy? You're okay?"
"You were having a bad dream, daddy." Then Jack added evenly: "Do you want to talk about it?"
Hotch smiled: Jack was offering his help, repeating the same words his father would say to him when he was having a nightmare.
"Thanks, I'm okay. I'm sorry I woke you up." Remembering his dream, he worried about how much he had said out loud...
"Would you like a glass of water?" inquired Jack, still following the bad-dream protocol. Hotch realized he had better let the boy help, or next would come the offers of a back rub and a lullaby...
"I'd like that very much, thank you."
Jack ran out with a thrilled look on his face. While Hotch slowly got up, he heard the sound of Jack's step stool being dragged on the bathroom floor, then tap water running and filling up a glass. The light in the bathroom made Hotch squint a bit, but he smiled as Jack handed him the glass of water.
"You want me to tuck you in?" suggested Hotch after taking a sip. "Come on, buddy, we've got to get up early tomorrow..." and he gently guided Jack off the stool and back to his room.
OOOOOOOOOO
It was an hour before closing time at the bar and the Princeton Police squad cars waiting nearby were ready to nab anyone attempting to drive while intoxicated. Three young men came stumbling out of the bar, and the policemen watched attentively. In his dark truck up the street, the man with binoculars initially dismissed the group, but suddenly realized that one of the men was heading in a different direction than the others. Through his binoculars, he recognized the same man who had waited with the girl at the bus stop two hours earlier. It's about time, thought the watcher.
The slightly tipsy man waved to a taxi cab and got in. The taxi passed the other two men who were now arguing loudly, then headed west, while the stalker also used his first cross-street to head west, hoping to catch up with the taxi in a less conspicuous location. The police officers' attention was still distracted by the argument and did not notice the black pick-up truck up the street.
Fifteen minutes later, the taxi dropped off his ride in front of a family house in a peaceful neighbourhood. After the taxi drove away, the dark truck quickly pulled up, stopping with a short screech of the tires. The noise intrigued the wobbly man, and he turned around to look behind him, his head reeling from too much alcohol and fatigue. He peered in the dark to see who was inside the truck.
Through the open passenger window of his truck, the driver was pointing a long riffle at the man's head. The gun fired.
OOOOOOOOOO
Tuesday morning, at the Quantico FBI headquarters, Penelope Garcia was getting ready to present a new case to the BAU team in their conference room. She had been keeping her gaze down from the moment she came in instead of making eye contact with her colleagues as would normally be the case for her. The team had just returned the day before from a case in Florida, but had been told to come in early for an urgent case. They were all feeling a bit weary, but mugs of coffee would have to remedy the situation for the next few days.
Agents Prentiss and Hotchner were just settling down, while Morgan, Rossi, and Seaver were already checking their electronic pads. Dr. Reid hurriedly joined the group, and Garcia, seeing the team finally complete, greeted Reid and the others in a subdued manner and started her presentation.
"Princeton has been the scene of four peculiar murders in the past eight months: four men killed by the same long rifle, all as they were getting home, all on a late Wednesday night." She turned to start the usual slides of victims and crime scene pictures, then continued:
"Three months ago, the slaying of Ren Nozawa, age 32, was quickly linked to the previous death of another man of Japanese descent, Yoshio Mizuki, 35, who was killed in late December. The first victim of the series, Sam Crocker, 39, was shot last November, but his death, at first, had been believed to be related to gang warfare because his brother is involved with local drug dealers. Thanks to ballistics, the investigation linked the three murders and the drug connection did not pan out. Recently, other connections between the three victims were discovered, but this did not prevent a fourth killing last week, that of 43 year old John Sears."
"A white man, two Japanese Americans, then another white male…" commented Prentiss.
The slide show was presenting images of four attractive men with sharp, expressive faces, and dark eyes and hair that contrasted dramatically with the corresponding crime scene pictures showing their bloody heads and faces shattered by a single gunshot.
"The wounds are all inflicted at the heads or faces," added Reid. "A desire to destroy their identity, or perhaps their good looks, this could indicate rage or anger, even possibly a personal connection to the victims..."
Garcia pointed to each face on the screen as she continued:
"Three of the victims were from Princeton University: Crocker and Mizuki were both completing their Ph.D. and Nozawa was a teacher's assistant; John Sears was a manager at an electronic equipment store. The police have not established any connection between the victims, except for their general appearance and one big one: ALL were patrons of the Sherwood Club the night they were killed, a bar well attended by university students. Wednesday night is 'Karaoke night'..." she finished, with a whimsical expression.
Derek added his observation: "These men are older than your typical twenty something university student. If they were picked out of a younger crowd at the bar, our unsub might also be older than the average student."
"The dates of the killings are also significant," observed Rossi, checking the information on his tablet. "Thanksgiving, the Christmas Holidays, Spring Break, and... we now have the summer holidays... If this unsub continues to adhere to a student's schedule, he could get quite busy in the coming weeks!"
"Exactly," Hotch answered. "That's why we've been 'urgently' invited by the local authorities, as they have had no luck figuring out how these men were connected to their killer, or whether the unsub was a patron at the Club, or somebody on the prowl in the neighbourhood. Last week, John Sears was killed despite much heavier police patrols in the area and three officers in civilian clothes inside the bar. They're worried there will be more victims this summer, but an increased police presence might force the unsub to change location..."
Everyone understood the requirements of this assignment: about two days to come up with a profile, probably followed with a discreet stake out at the Sherwood Club on Wednesday night.
"We take off in 30 minutes." Hotch picked up his files and left the room with the others, while Penelope stayed behind to tidy up the room. Morgan, last to leave, hesitated at the door:
"Everything okay, Baby Girl?" he finally asked as he walked back towards her.
"I'm in a bad mood, don't mind me," Garcia replied with a slight pout.
"Why? What happened?" and Morgan waited patiently while Garcia seemed to want to delay answering.
"I'm sorry, I guess I'm just tired... I had to come in yesterday... on my first day off this month!" she added pointedly. "I had to help Cooper's team, they requested me... Anyway, we caught the guys... Then Hotch called me to give me the case to prepare for this morning. Usually, I'd come in early the next morning; Hotch tries to give me enough heads up to plan it the way I want. Since I was already here, I decided to stay a while longer and get the slides and files ready..."
She sighed, looking discouraged. "I forgot I had already called Kevin before Hotch called, so when I got home ninety minutes later than expected, his dinner was burned. He had cooked a wonderful dinner, planned a romantic evening, but it was late, I was tired, hungry, and the food looked like a dead carcass after the buzzards are finished with it. We almost got into a fight. Then I didn't sleep well..."
Morgan was looking at her, sympathetically, but was still concerned.
"You're sure that's all it is? You've been a little... not your usual smiley-self, lately."
"Derek, don't start! I'm not in the mood! Just go and let me do my job without worrying if people are profiling me because I'm not as cheerful as my usual self. Can't someone just be off a few days? I'll bounce back, you know me!" she added in protest, but with a crooked smile, showing that being able to talk about it had helped already. She had to admit that she felt grateful for his attention, but she kept that thought to herself.
Her friend gave in, trying not to make more out of it. He saluted with a smile and left to get ready for the trip to Princeton.