Day 3
Now familiar with the nervousness that settled in my stomach three days ago, I knock on the hotel door with a hand that's fisted around my pen. I can barely hear the sounds of a TV floating through the door, and after a few seconds the sound disappears completely. I hear footsteps, and the door opens.
Hotch is even taller than I realized, now that I'm standing here without my heels. It's also odd seeing him so deconstructed-no shoes, no jacket or tie, with the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone. His suit is so perfectly put together it seems like it's a part of him.
"Hi," I say brightly, trying to make this seem less awkward than it is. "Um, I know it's getting late, so I apologize and I'll make this quick, but could I get your opinion on these two cases? If you're not busy?"
"Yes, of course. Come in." He steps aside to let me in. "You're still working?" he asks, closing the door. I shrug.
"Strong work ethic, I guess." He smiles-sort of. It's the closest thing to a smile I've seen from him so far. "I'm just hoping if I can get ahead of things now, it won't be so easy to get behind later."
"Have a seat," he says, indicating the table and chairs between the miniature kitchen and the rest of the room. "Water?"
"Um, no. Thanks, though." He brings one for himself and sits down across from me.
"So what can I help you with?"
"I'd just like another opinion on these. I'm just-well it's pretty easy to make a case for both of these, you know? And I'm not sure I'm making the right decision. It's like, I know what to look for but I'm afraid I'm seeing the wrong thing and missing what's important. I mean this one," I hand him one folder, "this one, you have three bodies dumped within a mile of each other, in a fairly populated network of hiking and biking trails. The local police have no leads and they're getting desperate, because the last body was discovered by an eight year old who crashed his bike into it.
"Then this one, two families killed in their homes in a small suburb, four days apart. The families were close. Kids the same age, I think the mothers grew up together? Yeah," I confirm, double checking the report. "So what, it's personal? Or…" I take a deep breath and a sip of water, not really knowing what to add to the "or" as Hotch studies the two folders in silence.
"Or you have an unsub who's lost his family somehow and he's taking it out on the rest of the community." I glance up, meeting his eyes for a second.
"Right." He looks down again. The crease between his brows deepens as he flips through the pages. I watch him for a few moments, wondering what he's thinking. I look back down at the open folder in front of me. I spin my pen between my hands, considering all the angles.
"Sorry," I say, smiling a little and glancing back up at him, "for bringing this in here after we just finished one." He shakes his head.
"No, it's fine. Like I said, I'm happy to help if you need it, until you get your footing."
"Thanks. This is harder than it seems. Remind me to send JJ some flowers or something," I add with a smile. He smiles again, nodding.
"I think, this one needs our attention," he says finally, holding up the first folder I gave him. "Random killings, in a small town…they're all in danger. The other…it seems personal. The families had a personal connection to each other, and I doubt that's a coincidence. But the people in the park, they have a serial killer on their hands who seems to be escalating. The second two bodies were found three and a half weeks apart. The first two were two months apart." I nod.
"I think I agree."
"You don't have to solve the case, Gabby. We'll do that. You just have to look at it from the angle of which one can be solved. Like you said, the local authorities are getting desperate. They want to protect they're community, from the murders and from the stress and pain of having a serial killer running around. The families…tragic as it is, it isn't the work of a serial killer. This was someone who walked in, shot everyone where they stood, and walked out again." I nod in understanding.
"The unsub's only purpose there was specifically to kill those people. That's all he needed from it. The people on the trails-this unsub needs the fix of killing them."
"Exactly. He's stabbing them several times. He's choosing a close-contact method of killing them. There's likely a sexual component and he's escalating, which means he's not getting the satisfaction he was before. There are probably other bodies, when he was working on his technique."
"And he's placing the bodies where they're going to be found, because he wants the attention, which means he isn't going to stop because what he's done has worked and he's getting away with it." Hotch nods.
"Exactly," he repeats. I smile to myself, pleased at having gotten it right.
"You did a good job today," he says. "You'll be fine." I smile.
"Thanks. I'll get it eventually." He meets my eyes, and I feel like he can literally see right through me and read my mind. It's a little awkward feeling, but kind of intriguing at the same time.
"You're a perfectionist," he says matter-of-factly. "You'll do fine." I laugh.
"I don't doubt it." I glance down at the folder laying open in front of me. Sighing softly to myself, I flip it closed, pushing the images from my mind.
"Alright well, I should probably go try get some sleep now. Hope none of this craziness gives me nightmares," I add, pushing all the papers back into the folders as neatly as I can. "Thanks for talking these through with me." Hotch catches my eye and the look he's giving me stops me in my tracks.
"If you need to talk about what happened today…" he begins slowly. I try to smile a little.
"I'm alright. I mean, as alright as one can be after these last couple of days, but the nightmare thing was a joke, kind of." I sigh. Shit.
"Are you sure?" I hesitate just a little too long, and I can feel him staring me down as I stare at a spot on the wall above his shoulder.
"I'm fine," I say firmly. "I just haven't thought about it much. I'm kind of trying not to." He studies me for a moment longer, then seems to relax.
"Alright. Alright," he says, nodding. He doesn't look completely convinced, but he drops it anyway. "But if you need to talk to someone, I can help. You can talk to me or I'll find someone for you." I smile.
"Thank you. I appreciate it." There's an awkward pause, and I pick up my folders. "And again, thanks for helping me out with these," I say, standing up. He stands with me.
"Of course." I smile.
"Good night."
"Good night, Gabby." I reach the door, pull it open, and stop. Sighing, I turn around. Hotch is still standing where I left him, watching me.
"Did you…did you all know what you were getting into when you took this job?" I ask, kind of wishing I could laugh at this. The fact that I can't find anything humorous in it worries me. "I mean like, I had some idea, but it's only supposed to be a temporary thing. But you, the rest of the team…" I trail off, meeting his eyes. His face is tense without the usual furrowed brows, leaving it looking quite relaxed in comparison. I can see he's choosing his words carefully, and I wish for once that someone on this damn team would just talk.
"No, I don't think any of us really knew what we were signing up for." I nod.
"Ah. I'm not sure if this makes me feel better or worse." The silence his heavy. I shake my head. "Okay, well, I promise I'm really leaving this time," I say, attempting to smile. "Night."
"Good night." I slip through the door and close it quietly. On the other side, I just stand there for a moment, thinking. Maybe it's too early to decide if this was a stupid idea. Maybe I need to give it more time. Pushing it from my mind, I head to my room two doors down, toss the folders onto the table, and flop onto my bed with the TV remote.
