Chapter 3
Emily didn't stay for breakfast and that was probably for the best, although she did stay for another movie and a lot more wine. The next morning I received the call to come in at 6.15am. I made my own toast, got dressed, and drove in before the sun had properly risen.
To get such an early call I knew it was going to be a bad one, and Garcia's face as I walked into the room told me my intuition was correct. Emily was already sitting next to Morgan, who looked as bedraggled as it's possible to look without a head of hair to muss. He adjusted his clothes as Rossi entered, followed by Reid and finally Hotch.
"Alright, my dumplings, set your surgeons on speed dial 'cause I'm about to break your hearts," she began as the screen blinked awake behind her. "This is Lea Hawkins, she was 16, found at some ungodly hour this morning by a jogger in Crabapple Community Park. That's Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, by the way."
I already knew—it wasn't too far from where I'd grown up.
The photograph Garcia pulled up of Lea Hawkins could have been taken by a photography student. She lay on her back in a bed of flowers, her eyes were closed, her skin porcelain pale. She was clothed in a long white dress with billowing bell sleeves that gave her the appearance of having wings. On her feet were spotless white satin shoes, and her ankles were respectfully pressed together.
"It looks like she's sleeping," Emily commented. "No blood. I can't tell cause of death from this."
"As far as the ME can tell," Garcia explained. "Lea was poisoned over an extended period of time. She was probably feeling badly sick for weeks, poor thing, and the reason—as I'm sure you're wondering—that she did not go to a hospital during that time, is this—" Garcia changed the slide now to show Lea lying undressed in the medical examiner's office. Her body, previously covered by the modest dress, was almost completely covered in bruises, burns, and other wounds. I swallowed tightly as I realised that at least some of them were self-inflicted. Of course that's the case we'd pull right now.
"She was poisoned," Morgan repeated. "So we're probably looking at a female unsub."
"Or a suicide," Reid pointed out, obviously. "Are we sure there's a case here?"
"Yep, we're sure," Garcia said. "'Cause this is the hinky part. The ME says the wounds on her arms and legs, Lea probably did herself, which is really sad, but what's even sadder is that the bruising was a pretty regular thing. Lea's had a veritable ton of broken bones, some of which are really badly healed, but she hasn't been to a hospital since she was a little kid." Garcia voice rose to a slightly shrill note here. "Now I don't know why someone in this poor child's like did not see what was going on and take her out of her home—I don't know why, but I will. And when I find out I will see to it personally that whoever is responsible is decapitated—"
"Baby girl," Morgan interrupted. "You said you don't think this is a suicide, and the abuse definitely needs looking into, but how can we be sure she didn't take the poison herself?"
"My love, I am sorry to say that Lea Hawkins is not our only victim," Garcia sighed. "Two other victims have been found in neighbouring districts over the past couple weeks with the same MO. It took the local PDs a while to piece them together because they were found across jurisdictional lines, but they all live pretty close together." The slide changed again: two more girls, their school photographs juxtaposed with their dead bodies. "This is Amanda Malley, 15; and Bailey James, she was only 14. Bailey was the first victim, she was found ten days ago. She went to the same school as Lea Hawkins, but she was in the year below. Amanda was homeschooled. All three show signs of long-term physical abuse prior to being poisoned."
"These girls didn't just walk into their local parks and lie down at the precise moment they were going to die," Hotch pointed out. "The unsub is purposely displaying these bodies. That, combined with the ritualistic dressing and positioning of the bodies, suggests she's proud of them and wants them to be found."
"She probably thinks she's doing these girls a favour," Rossi joined in. "She's saving them from lives she doesn't see as worth living."
"Like an Angel of Mercy," Emily put in.
"We should look into women in positions of authority, particularly carers—teachers at the school, nurses, counselors, local women who might have taken an interest in these girls. Somehow she had to find out these girls were being abused, even though none of them ever filed charges."
"Hotch, if the unsub is poisoning girls over a decent period of time, she's probably already started dosing her next victim, maybe even more than one," Reid suggested, and Hotch's grim expression indicated he had already thought of this.
"That's why it's important to get a move on this," he agreed. "Too much time has already been wasted. Garcia, you're coming with us—since we're dealing with teenagers, hopefully you'll be able to find something on their computers or cell phones and figure out who they've been in contact with or how they might have met the unsub."
"Yes sir," Garcia replied unflinchingly.
"Wheels up in thirty."
It took everything I had not to look at Emily. I didn't want to give anything away by showing concern for her. Instead I fell into step with Garcia, who needed to go back to her office for her go-bag. She gave me a strange look as I did.
"Something up, sugar?" she asked casually, and I put on a deliberately surprised look.
"No, nothing. It's just early," I promised, rubbing the back of my neck for effect. "I was up late."
Garcia's eyebrow rose. "Oh, okay? Who with? You did dump that hillbilly of yours didn't you?"
"With nobody," I said, maybe a little defensively. "And yeah, Will's not in the picture anymore. I don't know why he ever was."
Garcia snorted her amusement. "Took you long enough to figure that one out, sweetie."
I shrugged. "We spent so much time apart it took me a while to realise we had nothing in common."
Opening the door to her office and shoving some additional equipment into her go-bag, Garcia nodded appreciatively. "At least it wasn't a hard break up. Neither of you were all in for it."
"Yeah," I agreed. "That helped." Honestly, the conversation had me a little distracted. I hadn't been invested in Will at all and now I was finding myself suddenly but seriously invested about someone—a woman!—for the first time in years. Out of nowhere, I was all in for Emily.
"You sure nothing's up, sugarplum?" Garcia asked again. Her bag now rested on her shoulder and we were ready to leave but she delayed, placing a hand on my arm. "You're having trouble sleeping?"
"No, really, Pen. I stayed up late watching movies—"
"Alone." It wasn't a question. Garcia clearly didn't believe me.
I blushed. "Yes, alone!"
"Fine," she said. "Don't tell me." Then she winked. "You know I'll find out anyway. Come on—we don't want anyone waiting up for us."
She was out the door before I could protest.
"Sarah?"
"Miss Mara, I know it's a Saturday but you said I could call anytime, right? Is it ok? I'm sorry…"
"Come on, quiet down, Sarah, it's all okay. You call whenever you need to. Just as long as you use that special phone I gave you."
"Yeah… I'm so awful scared, Miss Mara. Mom's not here and dad's out drinking in the shed. I'm scared he's gonna come in and she's still gon be gone. He'll be so mad. I don't know where she is!"
"Listen, Sarah—are you safe?"
"My door's locked but he broke it down once already. Can I come by?"
"Can you get out without him seeing?"
"Yeah, I think so. 'Slong as he stays in the shed…"
"It's important, Sarah. Don't let anyone see."
"I won't Miss Mara."
"All right… Come on over then. I'll make you a hot drink."
"Get any sleep last night?"
I glanced up from the ME's report to find Emily watching me across the table. When I'd taken my usual seat on the jet she'd immediately picked the seat opposite, and my heart had sunk. I was still shaken up from seeing the wounds that little girl had inflicted on herself. Such things were bad enough when all they made me feel was guilty about Ros, but now, with Emily, it was ten times worse. I was floundering and we hadn't even touched down yet.
"After you left, none," I replied, quietly enough that no one else could hear.
"I didn't sleep either," Emily said, and she was smiling. "I wasn't tired when I left—I could've watched another movie."
To be honestly, I'd been exhausted, but I would have rather watched another movie than see her leave. Still, I told her, "If we had, I don't think either of us would have made the jet this morning."
"Did you see Morgan when he arrived? Makes me think we weren't the only two up late last night." Now she actually winked at me and I had to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Morgan called from a couple of rows back. His ears must have been burning or something.
"Mind your own business," Emily called back and Morgan chortled, returning to the papers in front of him. More quietly, Emily continued.
"Listen," she said. "I know you think this case is going to be impossible but it's not. You don't need to worry about me."
"Someone has to, Em," I replied unhappily.
I hoped she understood. I hated being the only one to know her secret. It made me feel responsible for each and every scar she bore. The bandages I'd seen had made it clear that her latest relapse was a recent one, and I knew she wasn't going to just quit out of nowhere because I'd found out. I dreaded the day I'd lift her sleeve to find new wounds added to the ranks of those I had already memorized. I felt, without a doubt, that they would be no one's fault but mine if I failed to get her help.
Emily frowned subtly but nodded. Lowering her eyes, she seemed to re-focus on whatever she'd been reading, but underneath the table separating us, one of her legs stretched forward to lean against mine. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. It told me that, while my sister had withdrawn in the period leading up to her suicide, Emily was still inviting me in. The casual brush of her calf against mine reassured me that she was still here. I leaned into her, and we didn't speak for the rest of the flight.