Shadows dance across the bedroom wall as he lays sprawled on the double bed.
He can hear Roxy's steady breaths from the living room and he drapes an arm across his face. Sleep doesn't come easy anymore, not since the death of his partner Phil at the hands of the Crimson King. They'd been together for four years with the FBI Fugitive Task Force and become more than partners; they'd been friends.
He shakes his head and wills his eyes to close as he lets out a long tired breath.
He knew the cabin would do him good; a seclusion away from his current role within the Behavioural Analysis Unit, aptly named the BAU. After capturing the ninth serial killer that had escaped from a maximum holding facility all of the leads had gone cold. The team had no choice but to wait it out and be ready for when the remaining fugitive five decided to slip up. He knew it could take weeks, maybe even months for anything to eventuate, so he wasn't holding his breath.
He knew Garcia would call him the second they had anything, until then he would relax, keep his head down, and enjoy being alone.
.
The morning brings another hampering of bad weather. Mist and rain cover the area and he sighs as he grabs his jacket and slings it on. He contemplates holstering his weapon but soon dismisses the idea. With a whistle and a tilt of the head, Roxy bounds after him and hops easily into the back of the truck, her tail wagging.
Taking the drive slowly he watches as the world goes by. The green around him is vivid and the air is crisp, filling his lungs completely. The roads are slippery from the rains so he flicks his lights on and navigates the bends with ease.
He sees only a few people on the foot paths as he pulls into a park in front of a general store.
"Stay, girl," he tells Roxy, and she whines in response as she sits back on the seats.
The store is almost empty save for a few shoppers so he goes to work. His trolley fills quickly as he grabs supplies; beer, a slab of beef, yellow and red peppers, food for Roxy, tomatoes - the list goes on. His stomach growls as he collects the ingredients, thinking about the meal ahead. He knew he would have to eat well to keep the cold at bay, however he would also have to keep his fitness in check. He figures that a daily hike or run along the Sol Duc River would keep him up to par.
He checks out, pays and leaves the store to fill his load in the back of the truck. Roxy is excited to see him again but she is discipline enough to stay in her seat, though her eyes watch him eagerly. Glancing over, Luke spots the local sheriff's office. He hesitates for a moment before he sighs and rubs a hand over his face.
Closing the door to the truck he heads over to the office and steps inside. The walls are painted a warm green colour and he dings the bell for attention.
"Can I help you, son?" an older man steps out from an office. His moustache is comical and he tries not to grin.
"I'm looking for the Sheriff." Luke states, "I assume you'd be him?"
The man reaches out a hand. "You'd be correct, though around these parts it's Chief. Charlie Swan."
Luke takes the hand and shakes it firmly. "Just as courtesy, I wanted to let you know I'm in town for the next few weeks. Supervisory Special Agent, Luke Alvez."
"FBI? Are you here on a case?" the older man frowns as he regards the younger.
"No, sir. Just on a break. I'm over in Sappho, I have a cabin there."
Charlie's mouth twitches slightly. "Alright, then. If you need anything Alvez, you know where to find me."
"Thanks, Chief," Luke calls out, already leaving on a turned heel.