An hour later, everyone was back in the conference room of the field office. Mystery and frustration filled the room as Aaron discussed a profile with the whole team.
"Something traumatic must have set him off," Aaron suggested. "Garcia can't find any more kidnappings like this in the few months before Melissa Mathers turned up missing."
"I really wish I could help," a voice said from Aaron's cell phone in the center of the table. "But you guys aren't giving me a lot here."
"This should be easy," Derek sighed. "This town is hardly big enough to be a dot on a map.
"Garcia, check for any violent deaths that occurred in the month before Melissa Mathers went missing," Aaron ordered.
"Nothing," Penelope concluded after a few seconds. Not even a regular death. People live long in these small towns."
"What if the unsub just moved into town?" Spence questioned. "Maybe he started his pattern in a different city, but then moved here."
"He would get away with this sort of thing in a big city," Emily informed quickly. "Why would he move?"
"Maybe this town means something to him," Aaron insisted. "Garcia, check for anyone who moved into town in the-"
"Month before Melissa Mathers went missing, I know," Garcia sighed. "You're not going to like this. They just opened up a few new townhouses in the better part of town. A lot of new people poured in to occupy those townhouses."
"Perfect timing," Derek growled.
"He couldn't get away with this in a townhouse," Aaron told confidently. "Check for anyone who moved into a house."
"There were two houses both within the month before Melissa Mather's disappearance," Penelope said swiftly. "A young couple with a beautiful new baby boy, and…a dear old woman in her eighties."
"He's got to be in the townhouses, Hotch," Derek insisted.
"I know," Aaron replied angrily. "Maybe he owns property where he keeps the girls. Garcia, look for-"
"There have been no property sales as of late," Penelope interrupted. "No shed, no field. Just residences. If it would help, the last property sale was a ten acre sale from a Mr. John Thompson to a Mr. and Mrs. Carl Hampton."
"That doesn't help at all, actually, Garcia," Spence told plainly. "But thanks for trying."
"Your sarcasm really hurts, Reid," Penelope joked with convincing angst.
"What sarcasm?" he asked innocently.
"Look, JJ, Prentiss, O'Dooley," Aaron suddenly interrupted. "Why don't you interview a few people at the townhouses. I'm still not completely confident that the killer doesn't live there. Morgan and I will interview a few of the parents again. Reid, you stay here and work on the profile. Ask Garcia questions. Anything."
Emily was quick to lead Monica and I out of the field office. We climbed into a black government SUV and took off down the road to the richer part of town where the townhouses were. I voluntarily let Monica take the passenger seat next to Emily. Sitting in the back of the car felt a little less stressful. It felt safer.
"Where in the world could this dirt bag be?" Emily asked angrily as she reluctantly stopped at a red light. "This is such a small town, but we just can't find him."
"I'm sure we'll get him," Monica sighed. "We have to."
Suddenly, my phone rang, and I anxiously answered it. "Yes, Spence?"
"Hey, JJ, I was looking at the background of the victims," Spence told excitedly. "It turns out Melissa Mathers' twin sister Aubrey died just before the murders started taking place. She died of a really bad asthma attack, but, listen to this. There was evidence of sexual assault on her body."
"Does this have anything to do with the other victims," I asked eagerly.
"Aubrey lived in Minnesota with her husband Mark Richmond," Spence continued. "If Mark was the one to abuse her while they were married, he could very well be our unsub."
"But he's in Minnesota, Spence."
"No, he's not," Spence corrected. "He lives in the townhouses."
"What?" I exclaimed. "But, Spence, why would he want to kidnap and rape more people."
"It could be that he has a psychological disorder that caused him to become attached to Aubrey," Spence exclaimed. "Sure, he abused her, but, what I'm trying to say is that he needed her to satisfy him. He then moved to Ohio not to escape police, but to get the next best thing, Melissa. He kept her like another wife to abuse. But he got nervous because of the police and the search. He needed to get rid of her. But he took her to her favorite place to make the killing especially satisfying for him so he can go a little bit without another girl."
"And Carrie Leo looks like Melissa Mathers," I stated slowly. "Spence, text me which townhouse he's in. We'll get him."
"I'll call Hotch, too."
"Alright. Bye."
"What's up, Jayje?" Emily asked.
"Reid might have just figured everything out," I informed rapidly. "Quick, we have to get to the townhouses now. Our unsub lives there."
"Really?" Emily exclaimed. "It's time for the lights."
Emily turned on the siren and the blinking lights. We were driving quickly past houses, farms, and shops, anxiously waiting to save Shelly Morrison. Her face was scarred into my mind. But soon enough, all my thoughts were interrupted by my ringing phone.
"Hotch?"
"Hey, JJ."
"Jayje, put it on speaker phone, please," Emily pleaded tensely. "I don't want messages to be relayed to me."
"Hotch, we're on our way to the townhouses to apprehend Mark Richmond," I told as I put my phone on speaker.
"There's been a problem," Aaron sighed. "Right after Reid called me, there was a press leak. The name of Mark Richmond has been flashed across every new channel in this town."
"How could that have happened?" Emily questioned furiously.
"It doesn't matter how it happened," Aaron interrupted. "What matters is that, according to the profile Reid gave me, the unsub will now be scared. He's going to have to get rid of Shelly Morrison quickly."
"But he needs to get rid of her at her favorite place," I said, the morbid words difficult to get out.
"Is it possible for you three to learn that?"
"Yes," Monica suddenly exclaimed. "I can find out. Let me get Mrs. Morrison's number from Garcia."
"Alright, O'Dooley," Aaron agreed. "When you find out, let me know, and then head over there yourself. If you get there before Morgan and I, JJ, I need you and Prentiss to apprehend the unsub."
Aaron's words sent me into a trance. I stared out the car window and saw the evening dark across the farm country. It looked familiar. Eerily familiar. My hands started to shake as Spence's face came into my mind.
"Hotch, I…I can't do that," I whispered, attempting to sound strong.
"What do you mean you can't do that?" he replied angrily. "JJ, you and Prentiss have to apprehend this unsub."
"Hotch, I can't go with Emily," I assured shakily. "I can't go with anyone. It's not safe."
"JJ, listen to me-"
"Hotch, I can't do it!" I shouted as tears came to my eyes. Anger filled my whole body, and I despised my cowardice.
"Hotch, I can go with Prentiss," Monica quickly told. "I'll do it."
"Alright, O'Dooley," Aaron sighed. "Quickly."
The line went dead, and I laid my head against my seatbelt and cried. I could feel Monica's soft, compassionate eyes drilling into me, but I couldn't stand to look at her or confront her. Spence was still fresh in my mind. I couldn't put Emily in danger by accompanying her on this mission.
"Monica, Shelly's favorite place?" Emily interrupted.
"Oh, yes," Monica replied. She took her phone out of her pocket and chose a contact. "Garcia?"
"What can I do for you, Miss O'Dooley?" Penelope asked eagerly.
"I need Janet Morrison's cell phone number."
"It's just at the end of the rainbow, my Irishwoman," Penelope guaranteed swiftly. "Yes, here it is. 555-0954."
"Thank you, Penelope," Monica said softly. "Goodbye."
Without missing a beat, Monica hung up her phone, dialed in Janet's number, and placed it to her ear. I couldn't help but notice how passionate she was with her movement.
"Hello, Janet?" Monica rang out. "It's Monica. No, please, Janet, don't hang up. This is urgent. Please talk to me. I need to know where Shelly's favorite place in town is."
There was a long pause in which Monica patiently held her phone to her ear. A bit of whimpering could be heard from the phone, and I held my breath just to hear what Janet was saying.
"Janet, this could help us rescue your daughter," Monica promised. "Please."
"She spent time at the abandoned Thompson ranch on Gold Street," Janet said over the phone.
"The old Thompson ranch on Gold Street," Monica relayed, sending Emily into a frenzy of setting the GPS directions on the dashboard.
"Monica, is this for real?" Janet asked, her scared voice barely audible from where I was.
"Yes it is, Janet," Monica smiled brokenly. "I think we'll find her."
"If you were really an angel, you would have found her by now," Janet replied.
"Janet, I am an…You have to trust me," Monica told.
"I need her, Monica," Janet cried. "I really do."
"We'll get her, Janet," Monica pledged. "I have to go, Janet. We'll get her."
My mind tried to grasp the whole conversation between Monica and Janet, but something wasn't right. What was this angel business? A figure of speech? It must have been. But it didn't matter to me after a few minutes when we reached the Thompson ranch. We all hopped out of the car and drew our guns. Monica gave me one last look of consideration before she stepped out into the dark, grassy field.
Monica had never felt so scared in her life. As she and Emily pushed their way through the tall, yellow grass, she felt God clinging onto her heart. But she still felt that it was very vulnerable to bullets, knives, and any other weapons a coldhearted murderer would have.
Emily stayed quiet, stepping ahead of Monica bravely. Her gun was firmly in front of her, ready to scare any person who dared threaten her. But through the grass, it wasn't likely that she would see that threatening person.
"Shh!" Emily grabbed Monica's arm and pulled her deeper into the grass. Monica's eyes fell wide open as she anxiously stared at Emily's dedicated face. They both stooped low in the brush, listening and waiting.
"Shut up, Shelly!" A stern, horrifying voice could be heard a few hundred feet away. "This is no time for church talk."
"Lord, please save me." The voice of a scared, tortured girl now came from the same place. Her steady crying sent chills down Monica's spine, and her gun felt so heavy in her hand.
"Get that gun up, O'Dooley," Emily ordered strictly. "Follow me."
They quietly, yet quickly, parted their way through the grass, encountering the thickest, most confining brush. But Emily was a critical guide who encouraged Monica greatly. With great dedication, they followed the voices from the appalling scene they anticipated.
Finally, they pushed right out the grass into a very small, marshy area. The oval area only big enough to be a large living room seemed pleasant and peaceful. But the night sky created horrendous shadows on the ground. And two shadows across the marsh turned out to be Shelly Morrison and the unsub.
Monica dropped her gun again. The scene was just so terrifying. Mark Richmond held onto Shelly's long, black hair with his right hand while he wielded a gleaming, small knife in his left. Both Shelly and Mark stared at Emily and Monica with surprised faces.
"Let her go!" Emily shouted, pointing her gun right at the unsub. "Drop that knife, Mark Richmond!"
Suddenly, the unsub pushed Shelly into the ground and took off into the grass. In an act of pure compassion, Monica rushed over to Shelly and wrapped her arms around her. Emily followed, but kept her furious eyes on the grass into where Mark fled.
"O'Dooley, I'm going after him," Emily informed quickly.
"Alright," Monica replied nervously, the great pressure and anxiety pushing her voice into the highest of octaves.
As Emily pushed her way through the brush, Monica held onto Shelly tight. The crying girl only let herself be cradled by the loving angel. Sheer chaos was felt with a mess of perfect joy.
"Shelly, my name is Monica," the angel whispered. "I'm with the FBI. We've got you, Shelly. We've got you."
Before any more reassuring words could be given, a gunshot rang out. Monica leapt to her feet as she laid Shelly onto the marshy ground. Another shot shattered the night sky. And then another. Monica felt her racing heart explode with each shot. But human adrenaline kept her from fainting, and she ran into the grass.
"Emily!" she screamed. "Emily!"
She made it out of the grassy landscape, only to find a pick-up truck rumbling as it started up. The red brake up lights appeared as the very eyes of Satan as she watched the truck drive off into the night. Her angel feet carried her into a wild race, following the speeding automobile. She prayed to God that her spiritual wings would push her along the sky to catch up with the truck. But nothing happened. She only felt a guilt, an anger, a madness as she watched the unsub zoom away with Emily Prentiss.
"Monica?"
The defeated angel turned around and saw Shelly Morrison poking her head out of the tall grass. She ran to the poor girl and hugged her as if she might make her feel better. But Emily was all Monica could think about. She couldn't even think of Shelly's pain, the same pain that had been bothering her this whole day. Now there was only Emily's fate in her mind. What had God planned? Her rescue? Her torture? Her death?
Tears started to pour from Monica's eyes as her heart became overwhelmed with confusion.