So, here's chapter four! I think I like how it came out, I really do. As always I shall ask for your reviews! And I extend a huge thank you to those who did review! They all get cyber-hugs!
Reid walked into the BAU at 7 am, already sipping his third coffee of the day. The fact that he had gotten about nine hours of sleep for the past two days was fueling his caffeine addiction to new heights.
He walked through the Bullpen and straight to the Conference room, as it had become a sort of base of action for them. He was the first one to arrive there, although he was sure that Hotch and JJ were already in their offices. He took the opportunity to run through the profile that they had updated yesterday.
The UnSub was most likely a male from the ages of 25-50, and an average looking guy. Someone who would have been very dependent on the person that they had lost in one of their cases, and completely devastated by the loss. He would have a job in which he was regularly overshadowed, an unimportant and undervalued member. He would also be extremely antisocial.
Their victimology was basically nothing, as the bodies were so mangled that they couldn't tell much about the person it once was. They also had no clue where the bodies where, so getting any DNA for ID was basically out of the question. The best they could do was that the first victim was a younger brunette female, and the second a middle aged blond man.
Reid looked back at the evidence board and felt a fresh surge of anger at this UnSub. What was he playing at, threatening his team? Why did he have such a vendetta against them? Reid sat glaring at the board as the others walked in.
"Whoa, Pretty Boy. That's a pretty fierce glare you have going there," Morgan said, his eyebrows raised slightly.
"This guy is threatening us, stalking us!" Reid stated loudly. "Like Hotch said last night, this became personal for all of us. I want to catch him before he hurts anyone else."
"I know man, we all do," Morgan agreed quietly.
"Then let's get to work so we can catch him," Hotch said, the look of determination returning to his face.
"Alright," JJ said. "We've now looked through every case file we have. We didn't find any significant threats made to us by a family member or friend of an UnSub, or even a victim."
"Could that mean that we've never even met the guy before?" Prentiss asked the room at large.
"Theoretically, yes. We don't have to have ever met them," Rossi agreed. "If it's a friend or family member of a victim, we most likely have, but if it's someone related to an UnSub...there's a good chance that we haven't met them."
"So someone we have never met before is stalking us, and killing people to threaten us. That's a comforting thought," Morgan said bitterly.
"Well, we don't know for sure that we've never met them," Prentiss reminded him. "Although I have to admit, it seems more probable that the UnSub is linked to a previous UnSub, rather than a victim," she admitted.
"Speaking statistically, it would be more probable," Reid spoke up. "The victims friends or family would usually direct their anger towards the UnSub rather than the police. But the friends or family of an UnSub would target the people that brought them down. Us."
"So it was an UnSub who was killed and left behind a vengeful creep," Morgan stated scathingly.
"Morgan, call Garcia and have her compile a list of cases where the UnSub was killed," Hotch instructed. "The rest of us will continue working as yesterday. Reid, JJ, and I working on files, Rossi, Prentiss, and Morgan on profile and victimology."
Reid walked over and picked up a stack of files from the large stack. He took a large swig of coffee as he sat back down, ready for another day of sorting through files if it meant catching this UnSub.
After hours of working on case files, Reid's overworked brain was swimming with information. Every case file he read sparked his eidetic memory, and he would vividly remember the victims, the UnSubs, and the profiles. All the memories were starting to cloud his mind slightly, so he decided to take a break, and refill his coffee cup.
As he stood up he mumbled something about a break and five minutes, and shuffled off toward the break room. After getting fresh coffee (and a cookie he found in a tin on the counter), he sighed and started shuffling back to the Conference room. But before he got there, he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.
A familiar small man wearing a delivery man's uniform. Being led away from the Conference room by two uniformed police men. A man that he had seen three to many times in the past three days now. Reid felt the remainder of the cookie he was holding slide through his fingers toward the floor, and only barely maintained a grip on his coffee cup. He watched the small, smiling man be led away, and as soon as he was out of sight, Reid sprinted into the Conference room.
The look on his friends faces as he ran in was enough. He didn't need to see the six manila envelopes on the table between them. And he didn't need to see the labels on the envelopes to know he hadn't gotten one.
As he sat down and shakily placed his coffee next to his half finished files, he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Go on," he insisted. "Let's not dramatize the moment by dragging it out like this." He tried to meld his expression into one of calmness. It wasn't working.
Each member of the team reached out and grabbed their corresponding envelope, and Reid resigned himself to looking over Rossi's shoulder, who was seated next to him.
Rossi slitted the envelope, and pulled out the usual items, along with something small and wrapped in bubble wrap.
As usual, the first picture picture was of the body. A body as mangled as the last two, this time with the addition of the removal of all twenty fingers and toes, which were laid out next to the body. Reid willed his nausea back as Rossi flipped to the next picture.
It was of him exiting his favorite coffee shop, coffee in hand. His heart skipped a beat. By seeing the picture, it was real that he was being targeted. Rossi then pulled the hand-written note to the front.
Hello Dave.
It seems that you haven't been taking my threats as seriously as I'd like. So I've kicked it up a notch. Just to let you know, I've looked into all of your pasts, and I know your darkest secrets.
-Your UnSub
P.S. Would you mind giving my little 'gift' to Dr. Reid? I know he's been wanting it for a very long time.
Having finished reading far quicker than Rossi, his eyes immediately skipped to the bubble-wrapped item sitting on the table. It couldn't be...? He could feel his breathing start to speed up.
After what felt like an eternity, Rossi reached for the small package. Reid's whole body tensed as he watched the bubble wrap fall away. Once it was gone, he could see that Rossi was holding a small vial. Of a clear liquid. Labeled 'Dilaudid'.
"No," he muttered, standing up from the table so quickly that his chair went flying behind him. "No," he muttered again, backing away from the offending liquid. He could feel his heart beating so fast it felt like it was having a seizure, and his breathing starting to grow irregular. His entire team was looking at him, small vials in their hands, and sadness in their eyes. All with the exception of Rossi, who simply looked confused.
"Bathroom," he managed to choke out, and sprinted out of the room, running down the hallway and flying into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, hair disheveled, eyes wide, and he was nearly hyperventilating. He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, attempting to force the memories that had sprung back up in his brain to go to the back of his mind. Him tied to a chair in a poorly lit shack. The pain, the guilt, the shots of drugs he had received. It had been nearly 3 years since he had touched the stuff, and he still afraid to touch drugs of any kind. Hadn't he proved that when he had contracted anthrax and refused pain medication?
He sat there, trying to calm himself down, angry at himself that he got so upset by it, when he heard a knock at the door and a calm voice saying, "Reid? Are you in there?"