The case in Georgia went off without a hitch. As was their usual mode of operation, they'd created their preliminary profile, which was met with skepticism from the locals but who had nonetheless aided in the capture of one seriously deranged Unsub.
The flight home was quiet; Rossi and Reid were dozing even though it was only midmorning, Morgan had his headphones on, and Hotch and JJ were murmuring over new case files. Emily sat alone at one end of the plane and checked her phone. Her eyes were burning with exhaustion; she'd barely slept the past few days. At least this time she could pass it off as fatigue from the case. In reality, she'd been getting some unsettling news that was keeping her awake.
In keeping up with the world outside the BAU, she'd learned that two members of the team that had taken down Doyle were dead already. Sean, who'd first informed her of his escape from North Korea, had been found at his safe house in Italy. And Jeremy had been found in France. Emily had gotten a desperate phone call from his wife Tsia, another former team member last night.
"Emily, I don't know what to do," she'd sobbed. "I'm terrified."
"You need to get to the States as quickly as possible," Emily had advised her. "You know where to go when you get here. Get new papers, he's still there. Then lay low, I'll find you."
She felt herself shifting back to CIA mode, trust no one, take no one's word, and always assume anyone you meet is working for the enemy. Doyle was getting closer. He was saving her for last, she knew, which meant that once Tsia was dead, Emily would be next, as would the rest of her team, if Doyle carried out his threats.
She'd been calling and texting Anna incessantly for the past three days while they'd been in Georgia. Emily had repeatedly been assured that yes, everything was fine. Yes, her shoulder was healing nicely. Yes, she'd finally managed to place everyone who'd been staying at Second Chance when the explosion happened.
"Emily, you're going to give yourself an ulcer," Anna joked with her last night. "Seriously though, you sound exhausted. What's going on?"
"I need to see you. We need to talk," Emily had answered vaguely. This wasn't something that could be done over the phone.
"Is this about the fire? Did they tell you?" Anna sounded annoyed.
"What? Did who tell me what?" Emily demanded.
Anna let out a slow breath. "They're ruling the fire and the explosion as arson. Apparently they figured out that the smoke detectors had been disabled somehow. They found traces of gasoline on the burned bits of carpet and flooring that were left and they found plastic explosives in the basement and on the third floor," Anna explained. "Emily, who would do that?" For the first time, she sounded legitimately upset. A freak fire she could handle, but the idea that someone broke in, doused the place in gasoline and wired it to explode was too much to handle. And Emily was breaking up over the fact that her sister, always so strong and so composed was being targeted, no doubt by Ian Doyle.
"Anna, there are some things going on that we need to talk about. But we can't do it over the phone. I'm going to drive up there tomorrow."
"No, let me come to you, please? I need to get out of this hotel. I got my last family placed today, so I'm good to go."
Emily hesitated, but quickly decided that she did want Anna here, on her own turf where she could protect her better. "Yeah, come here. You have your key?"
"Lost in the fire. Are you going to be at your office tomorrow morning? I'll just come straight there."
"That works." Even better, for security purposes.
Anna yawned. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow Feathers. Love you."
"Love you too Anna Banana," she smiled for the first time in what felt like days. Childhood nicknames took on a life of their own sometimes. Satisfied that she would see Anna tomorrow, and that Anna would be safe, Emily leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, dozing off into a fitful sleep.
Emily groaned when her alarm went off the next morning. She rolled over and hit the snooze button before groaning again. She barely remembered coming home last night; she'd fallen into a light sleep on the place and had been roused when Hotch gently shook her arm. She drove home as if she was on autopilot, dropped her clothes on her way from the front door to her bedroom, and gotten into bed without another thought.
She rolled back over and threw her arms above her head on the pillow and the thought crossed her mind that this was the first night in weeks that she'd gotten a full night's sleep without being roused by nightmares. Anna would get here today and Emily would be able to protect her from Doyle. She'd protect them all, even if it meant taking Doyle down herself.
Her alarm went off again and she forced herself to get up and out of bed. She padded into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. As the bathroom filled with steam she walked through the apartment picking up her discarded clothes. She stopped short when she got to the entryway of the apartment and tried to calm the incessant pounding of her heart that she swore she could actually hear.
A lilac, a single pristine purple flower was resting on the table just below a painting she'd purchased in Rome. Just the flower, nothing more. Had it been there last night? It must have been. She would have heard someone come into her apartment; the alarm would have gone off. Had she remembered to lock the door last night? Had she even set the alarm? She closed her eyes and tried to do a cognitive interview with herself. She imagined Morgan's voice in her head telling her to go back to last night when she'd walked into her home. What did it smell like? It smelled a little on the musty side, as it always did when she got back from a case. Normally she burned a sweet smelling candle every morning to wake herself up and when she wasn't home, the smell went away. But last night there was another smell, a floral smell. Like lilacs. And just a trace of cologne. Ian's cologne. So. The flower had been there before she got back. Ian had been in her apartment while she was gone. He knew where she lived.
Emily took a deep breath to steady herself. Anna would get here, and they'd pack up and run, it was that simple. She walked back to the bathroom in a trance of sorts, already planning their escape route. She had her own fake passport, obviously, a token from her days at the CIA. Anna's passport was real, but it had probably been lost in the fire. Lucky for Emily, she knew the best forger in the business.
She jumped when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID half expecting Ian's name to pop up, but it was JJ.
"Hey Jayje."
"We've got a new case. Hotch wants you to meet Morgan at a scene. There's two dead."
"Serial?"
"Don't know. All I know is that Strauss told Hotch we were on this one."
"Where's the scene?"
JJ rattled off an address that Emily scribbled down. Her heart sank. "That's not far from you, right?"
"Ten minutes," Emily choked out. "How many are dead?"
"Two. That's all I know. Morgan's already on his way to your place. He'll be there in ten minutes."
"Got it."
"Em, you okay?" JJ asked, hearing the change in her tone.
"Fine. Just tired. See you later Jayje." Emily tossed her phone onto her bed and headed for the bathroom to take the world's fastest shower. She dried her hair and got dressed in record time and was in the lobby of her building when Morgan pulled up.
"You look exhausted," Morgan observed as she buckled her seatbelt.
"We can't all look as pretty as you do every day," Emily replied, waiting for Morgan to screech away from the curb like he always did. But instead he put the car in park.
"What's goin' on with you?" he asked, obviously concerned.
"Derek, I'm telling you this as a friend. Don't ask," Emily turned her face toward the window so he couldn't see it.
"You know you can come to me with anything, right?" he wasn't giving up that easily. "We're partners. You can trust me."
Emily closed her eyes. "I know I can." But could you still trust me after you find out what I've done?
Sensing that he wasn't going to get any more than that, Morgan finally steered the car away from the building. "JJ said there were two dead, one male and one female. Other than that, she didn't know much," he reported.
Emily nodded but didn't say anything. When they pulled up to the building ten minutes later, she had to struggle to hold herself together because she knew this place. She knew who lived here. And she knew who the victims were going to be.
Sure enough, she followed Morgan up to the third floor of the building where the crime scene technicians were busy gathering evidence. A lone figure lay in the hallway, covered by a white sheet that was stained with blood. Another body was positioned just inside the doorway, larger than the first, but no less dead.
Emily lifted the sheet that covered Tsia's body and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. Tsia looked almost peaceful, except for the blood that stained her face. She carefully replaced the sheet and stepped inside where Morgan was examining the other body.
"These were quick and efficient," he observed. "Single shots to the head, no post-mortem mutilation, no signs of torture."
Just Ian's style, Emily thought to herself. That's when it hit her. There wasn't anyone left. With Tsia and her forger gone, there was no one else between Ian and her. And now there was no one that could get her what she needed to get Anna out of town. She made herself act normally as she mirrored Morgan's actions in the apartment; looking in each of the rooms, profiling the victims, trying to surmise the relationship between the two. Morgan's working theory was that the man had been the target and that the woman had interrupted the killers on their way out. He asked Emily to call Garcia and she if the female victim had a connection with any other resident in the building.
"Emily. Emily!" Morgan grabbed her arm. "Where are you right now?"
"Sorry, I just," she suddenly felt sick. "I need some air." She turned and walked briskly out of the apartment, her stride turning to a jog as she reached the hallway. She flew down the stairs and barely made it outside before she lost what little had been in her stomach to begin with.
She heard Morgan behind her and felt his hand on her back. "Prentiss, what's wrong with you?"
"I just…felt sick," she muttered. "Are you done here? I need to run back to my apartment and change." Though the clothes she was wearing were spotless (college had given her great aim when puking), she felt clammy and gross. She hoped a fresh change of clothes, a new shirt at least, would help her get her head back on straight.
She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, indicating she had a text message. She stared at the small screen in disbelief.
You're not looking well, luv. Perhaps you should sleep more.
Emily whipped her head around; Ian was here? Now? Watching her? Her hand went to her holster defensively as she scanned the crowds behind the police tape. She didn't see him.
"Prentiss." Morgan. Damn, she'd forgotten he was there. He was looking at her with something more than concern now, was it annoyance? Pity? Did he think she was breaking down? Probably.
"Sorry," Emily said again.
"What was that about?" he demanded.
"Nothing, it was nothing. Are you done here?"
Morgan nodded slowly. "Hotch wants us to meet him at the office."
"Pit stop first, okay?" Emily requested again. She strolled nonchalantly toward the SUV and climbed in without another word. Morgan followed wordlessly and they spent the drive back to her apartment in silence.
"Give me five minutes," Emily requested when they pulled back up to the curb, only an hour after they'd left in the first place.
"Want me to come with you?"
"I'm good," Emily assured him, opening the car door and slamming it behind her. She eschewed the elevator and took the stairs instead, hoping she could get rid of the jitters she was feeling. The stairs let out at the opposite end of the hall from her apartment and she barely noticed the silence around her as she walked.
She put her key in the lock and turned it, feeling some kind of relief when she realized that no one had broken in during the time she'd been gone. She pushed the door open and noted that the hall light was on. Had she left it on this morning? That's when she saw the small suitcase sitting next to the wall. It looked new.
"Anna?" she called, walking slowly down the hall. "Anna, are you here?" When she got no response, she drew her gun and held it with both hands in front of her. Anna said she was going to go to the BAU, not Emily's apartment. And she didn't have a key.
She turned to the left at the end of the hallway and cleared the kitchen; nothing looked out of place there. The dining room, bathroom, and the living room were clear too. She walked up the stairs with her gun aimed at the top; she didn't make a sound. The guest bedroom was the one closest to the stairs and it too was empty, as it usually was, save for when Anna came to visit. She kept some clothes and a bag of toiletries in the closet for unexpected visits, so if it was her suitcase in the foyer, why would she have brought it with her? Emily backed out of the room, passing the upstairs bathroom and heading toward her own room. The door was closed, which certainly wasn't how she'd left it this morning. She paused at the door and took a few deep breaths. Nudging the door with her foot, she peered through the crack between the door and the door frame but didn't see anything amiss. She swallowed hard and kicked the door open, nearly sending it flying off its hinges, and she had the fleeting thought that Morgan might have been proud.
But the scene she saw in front of her shoved that humorous thought out of her head so fast she didn't even have time to process the switch. Because all she could see was Anna, who was positively covered in blood.
