Author's Note: Stupid site screwed up my hit counter and review alerts for my last chapter! I have no idea if you all liked it or not. Oh well, Here is another LONG chapter for you for your patience. Just a reminder, this story is set in earlier seasons. JJ is still a media liaison. I had fun writing this one. I hope you enjoy reading it! and Oh yeah, I don't write pairings! Read on!
The small briefing room erupted into a flurry of activity. All agents stood and began collecting all of the papers and photos that had scattered across the table. They stuffed them back into their file folders and Garcia quickly shut off the overhead projector.
"Ok, Listen up." Hotch barked over the noise and the room fell silent. "This just became a federal case. JJ, get DCPD on the phone and have them fax over everything they have on this morning's crime scene ASAP, and prep a media statement. The press is going to be all over this. We may have just stumbled into a terrorist operation, and have two dead in less than twenty-four hours. I don't need to stress how fast we need to move here. Morgan and Rossi head to the crime scene. Reid, I want you to help JJ with local PD, we're going to need their cooperation. I'm going to see about getting in to speak with Thomas Sikes."
As the team collected their things and filed out of the room, Hotch held Emily back with a gentle hand. Once the room was clear he spoke.
"Emily, we need you in the field with us on this. I need to know you're up for it."
Her jaw dropped slightly at the intensity in his eyes. She felt pinned to the floor and wracked her brain for both an honest answer, and one he wanted to hear. She finally located an answer that satisfied each requirement and squared her shoulders before speaking.
"I'm fine Hotch. Let me go out there and do my job." She let her eyes soften a little. "I'm off the meds and if at any point I feel like I'm not fine, I will let you know."
Hotch considered her words for a moment before letting his hand drop from her arm and nodding. "Get your things and go with Morgan and Rossi to the crime scene."
Ben adjusted the lever on the rented BMW's instrument panel to turn up the defroster. He had chosen a far corner parking spot in the uncovered lot near the front of the building, where he had a clear view of the front lobby doors. The rain had started a steady drizzle again, and he glanced at the clock readout on the dash. He had been sitting for three hours, with no sign of the agent. Twice he had to duck low into the seat to avoid being seen by passing security guards. He was sure he could make up an excuse for sitting in the parking lot, but for three hours was pushing the lines of believable excuses. If one of them actually stopped to speak with him, he would have to find a new location shortly after. Thus far, he had managed to remain undetected.
It was getting late in the afternoon, and the parking garage across the way was beginning to empty out as Quantico's employees left for the day. At first he had jumped forward, straining his eyes to see through the window when a brunette woman exited the building. None of them had been Prentiss, and he was beginning to doubt that she was even back at work. He had seen a couple of her colleagues, probably returning from the crime scene where he had seen them on the news. As he unwrapped the sandwich he had picked up on the drive over, he hoped the day wouldn't be a bust, and he got at least one good photograph.
Just as he was about to give up and call it a day, both double doors to the lobby flew open and spat out a blur of activity. Ben dropped his sandwich into his lap and fumbled with the camera, flashing a photo of own hand in the process. He watched them through the zoomed in view finder and clicked away as they hurried from the front lobby toward the parking garage. Rossi led the group, closely followed by the bastard that had shot him, and finally Prentiss.
She was hurrying to catch up with her partners as she pulled her jacket up over her shoulders against the chilled rain. She slowed for a moment and turned her head, looking right at him. Ben ducked down in the seat, forgetting that he had been looking through an expensive lens, zoomed in from a distance. There's no way she could have seen him so far away. He risked sitting back up and lifted the camera to his eye. She was still standing, but her attention had moved and she was talking to the blonde agent and the wiry Dr. Reid that burst through the doors behind her. Ben let out the breath he'd been holding and resumed taking photos until they split off into different groups in the parking garage.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" he spoke to himself.
He quickly shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and fumbled to put the car in gear. He hadn't planned on following any of them home today, but he found himself drawn into their haste. He had to know where they were going. The mountain in Montana had been his terrain, his element, and they had proven to adapt to it. On their own turf, they were deadly, and the idea of beating them in their own home thrilled him. To do that, he would need a plan. He would need to observe them at their best, in their own element. So he pulled the BMW from the parking lot, and waited until he saw the two black SUV's pull from the garage. With a final sip of his warm soda, he pulled out behind them.
The flashing police lights and bustling scene immediately stood out against the meticulously manicured lawns and immaculate security gates of one of DC's most predominately wealthy neighborhoods. Morgan groaned as he pulled the SUV down the street and they saw the chaos.
"Guess Hotch was right about the media." Prentiss grumbled from the backseat.
Morgan pulled the SUV up to the edge of the crowd and ignored the flashing cameras and shouting reporters as he gave a short whoop of the siren and hit the concealed lights. The guarding police officers forced the crowd aside and moved the barricades, allowing the SUV to pass through the media nightmare. They drove up the long driveway and pulled to a stop behind the line of patrol cars. Detective Kimble was already out of the house and moving toward them when they climbed out of the SUV.
"Agents." Kimble shook their hands. "I've been told this is your case now."
"We've linked Owen Taylor to an open federal investigation. I'm sorry, but that makes it a federal case." Rossi answered.
They quickly followed the Detective across the grassy courtyard to the large Victorian style house and ducked under the yellow tape to enter the large foyer.
"Did you see that circus out there?" Kimble snorted. "I'm more than happy to hand this one over. Files have already been sent. We're just support here now."
Kimble led them down the length of the hallway and passed a standing patrolman into the large living area.
"His name is Richard O'Brien." Kimble said, "His wife Michelle found him after picking up their kids from a school basketball game a little over an hour ago. Single gunshot wound to the head. We've got people talking to the neighbors, but it doesn't sound like anyone heard or saw anything."
A crime scene tech was flashing pictures over the body in the center of the room. The agents slowly circled the body with trained eyes scanning every detail. The man lay face down in a deep puddle of blood from the gaping hole in his head. He was bound at the wrists and ankles with thick nylon rope. Rossi crouched down near the man's head and studied the fatal wound while Morgan and Prentiss moved away from the body to search the rest of the room.
"There's burn residue around the entry point." Rossi said, eyeing the wound on the man's forehead. "The UnSub was standing close when he pulled the trigger."
Emily walked slowly around the large living room, eyes scanning every detail. She carefully stepped around spattering of blood across the hardwood floor behind the coffee table. She frowned at the drying substance and paced around the corner of the table. The blood spatter covered the entire table's surface at one edge while the other side remained semi-unmarred.
"He was kneeling." She thought aloud. All eyes in the room turned to her and she pointed down at the table. "There's no blood on the wall. The victim is tall enough, if he were standing, the backsplash would have been present on the wall, but it's not. It's down on the table and floor."
She pointed to the body on the floor then motioned with her hand as if she were holding an invisible gun. "The UnSub ties his hands and feet and has him kneeling, then fires at a downward angle."
Rossi and Morgan slowly walked the short distance to her sides and instantly agreed with the observation. The scene gradually came together in their minds as they all came to the same conclusion. The UnSub had tied up his victim and forced him to his knees before calmly placing a gun to his head, and pulling the trigger. It was quick, clean, and one hundred percent effective.
"Are you saying this guy was executed in his own living room in broad daylight?" Kimble asked with an edge in his voice. "Who the hell is this guy?"
Morgan ignored the Detective's question and pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the speed dial button to his favorite technical analyst. She answered the after the first ring.
"Speak and be heard." Her voice chirped through the phone's speaker.
"Garcia, you're on speaker." He warned.
"Why do you tease me?"
"Don't start." Morgan laughed. "Hey, we need you to find everything you can on Richard O'Brien. See if you can find anything to link him to Owen Taylor. I don't care how small a connection it is."
"I'm way ahead of you." Her fingers flew over the keyboard in a practiced tap dance. "I ran the address the minute you left and I already have your connection. Richard O'Brien was just released from prison less than two weeks ago."
"Let me guess, weapons charges?"
"You're so cute when you jump to conclusions." She teased. "But no. Actually he was convicted of eight counts of fraudulent documentation charges. He served only ninety days of his sentence before making his cash bail of 1.5 million. Apparently creating phony identities pays very well."
"Who posted his bail?" Rossi shouted across the room.
"I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count." When no one spoke she continued, "Alright I'll give you a hint, it starts with Phillip and rhymes with Hillcrest."
"O'Brien must have supplied Taylor with the weapon documentation so no one would notice the discrepancies in his company's accounts. He probably even created his aliases." Rossi spoke after moving to Morgan's side.
"There you go jumping to conclusions again." The phone squawked at them. "However this time you're right. O'Brien was found in possession of numerous passports, printing presses, and other identity making doohickeys. Let's just say if you needed to disappear and become someone else in this town, O'Brien was the guy to talk to."
"You're the best Garcia." Morgan smiled to the phone.
"I know." She replied and disconnected the call.
It took them another hour to complete their assessment of the crime scene, and the sun was slowly beginning its decent behind the clouds when Rossi's phone rang. He answered with a crisp greeting and after listening to JJ's short announcement on the other end, he motioned Prentiss over.
"JJ and Reid just pulled in outside. I'm going to talk to Mrs. O'Brien. Can you go help them with the statement for the press?"
Prentiss narrowed her brow at him. "Okay, but you owe me." She teased.
She pulled the latex gloves from her hands and disposed them into the bin provided by CSU outside the living room door, before pulling her jacket back on and stepping outside. JJ and Reid were standing in the driveway next to the SUV and turned when they saw her coming.
"Is it our UnSub?" JJ asked once she was close enough that she was sure no one would overhear them.
"Pretty sure," Emily said, "This one was shot, but the MO is basically the same. No sign of entry or exit, victim tied with nylon rope, and executed. Garcia found a solid connection between the victims. What are you gonna tell the press?"
"Very little; that the Bureau has taken over the investigation and that we don't know anything yet." JJ shrugged. "I just want to make it quick. It's cold and wet out here. Hotch wants to regroup back at the office after this too. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."
Emily groaned her displeasure. "Let's get this over with then, shall we?"
They quickly covered the distance of the driveway and were immediately assaulted by shouting and camera lights as the crowd came to life as they spotted them. JJ plastered her best professional smile on her face and Reid and Prentiss stood slightly behind her at her sides. They slowly scanned the crowd as JJ addressed them.
"I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau with the FBI's Behavioral Analyst Unit." JJ began.
"Agent Jareau, Is the FBI taking over this investigation?"
"Was this the same killer that murdered Owen Taylor this morning?"
"Do you have any suspects at this point?"
The questions flew from every direction and JJ struggled to hear them all. She raised her hand and fought the urge to shout back at them to let her talk. After a moment, they took her raised hand as a hint and quieted.
"The FBI has taken over the investigation into both Owen Taylor, and Richard O'Brien's deaths. The BAU currently has Agents going over the crime scenes." She started again, "Since we have only just begun our investigation, it is unclear whether the murders were committed by the same person. Until our Agents are given time to process both crime scenes, any other information at this point would be merely speculation."
Emily scanned the crowd of reporters and cameramen as they listened intently to the brief update. The moment JJ's voice trailed off they erupted again, yelling their disappointment in the lack of information and Emily was instantly reminded of her distain for being in the public eye. She didn't envy JJ's position as the team's media liaison, and had always respected her friend's ability to keep her cool.
As she scanned the faces of the crowd, a flash bulb went off to her left, blinding her and making her flinch. She blinked against the spots that danced across her vision and her heart stopped in her chest at the face staring back at her, through the unfocused blur. She blinked again as another flash assaulted her from right in front of his smiling face. She had to take a step back, and divert her eyes for a moment, as the spots made her dizzy. She heard her name just next to her, and lifted her head to see Reid standing closer to her and directly behind JJ. He stood straight with his hands folded in front of him, trying not to draw any attention to them, but his concerned eyes were focused only on her.
"Emily?" he whispered again.
She blinked hard and turned her head back to the crowd. Her eyes instantly went to the space in the crowd where she swore she had seen him. The face she had seen was gone, now replaced with that of a scruffy cameraman who focused his lens on JJ as she spoke. Emily scanned the crowd desperately, feeling her anxiety lessen when she only noticed a few of the onlookers had noticed her unusual behavior. Luckily, none of them held cameras or microphones. She couldn't swallow the lump in her throat though, as her heart pounded in her chest. Had she only imagined him? Surely he wouldn't risk such a public appearance. She had to have imagined it.
Suddenly the camera lights turned off and JJ stepped back and turned with Reid right next to her. Their movement pulled Emily's attention and they turned their backs to the scattering crowd and quickly started walking back toward the house.
"Are you okay?" JJ whispered to Emily.
"Yeah," Emily answered too quickly, "yeah, I'm good."
JJ watched as Emily continued to walk forward, refusing to look at her. JJ had seen Emily flinch at the flashing lights and fought to keep her attention on the press conference. In her peripherals, she could see Reid move slightly over before Emily shook herself out of whatever effect that had struck her and quickly recovered her stance. JJ fought the relief she felt from showing on her face. None of the reports seemed to have seen the reaction of the woman at her side. Once they reached the SUV, JJ pulled open the door, effectively shielding them from the eyes any unwanted stragglers with cameras.
"Emily, sit down for a second." JJ said quietly.
Emily turned around surprised by the sudden demand. JJ stood next to the open door and the look on her face told her that it had not been a suggestion.
"JJ, I'm…"
"Fine, I know." JJ cut her off. "Sit."
Emily rolled her eyes and shuffled to the open door and sat back against the floor in front of the backseat. The position was awkward with the edge of the seat against her back, so she leaned forward and put her hands on her knees.
"What happened?" JJ asked.
"The lights, they just threw me off for a second. It's nothing, really." Emily let her eyes close against the building throb in her skull and tilted her head back and brought her hand to the back of her neck to stretch the tense muscles there.
"What happened after that?" JJ crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the door.
Emily's eyes opened and she looked suspiciously at her friend. "What do you mean?"
JJ turned her eyes downward, pushing at a small pebble with the toe of her shoe and sighed. "I know you Em. You looked freaked out."
Emily paled and her jaw dropped slightly. JJ had noticed and had called her out on it. She suddenly found the pebble very interesting and watched JJ push it around for a moment, thinking of how to explain what she had seen without sounding crazy. Finally, she decided to just tell her the truth. JJ was her one of her best friends, she would understand.
"I thought I saw Lambert."
JJ's eyes shot up to Emily's face in surprise. She hadn't prepared a response to that answer and her heart sank when Emily looked up at her. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.
"Where?" JJ asked.
"In the crowd, with the reporters. It was only for a split second, then he was gone." Emily replied.
JJ thought hard over her next question for a moment, slightly afraid of the answer. "Emily, how many times have you seen him?"
Emily let out a sudden huff of a laugh and leaned forward with her elbows braced on her knees. "This was the first time."
JJ released a silent breath of relief.
"God, I must be losing my mind." Emily said quietly with a smirk.
"You aren't losing your mind. You're just tired Em." JJ said. "It's only your first day back. Don't overdo it. "
Emily stood, nodding at JJ's words, and stretched her neck. "Thanks Jayje."
"Oh, and don't worry about the camera flashes. Those things drive me nuts too." They shared a smile and walked up to the house to join the rest of the team to help wrap up the crime scene before returning to the office.
Hotch was waiting for them when they drug themselves through the briefing room door and filed into their seats at the table. He had already gone over the files sent over by DCPD and had distributed copies in front of each other their chairs. It was getting late, and he didn't want to keep them longer than he had to.
"How did it go?" he asked as soon as they'd settled.
"Just like Taylor." Morgan answered, "In and out, tied up the vic and a quick, efficient kill."
"Garcia filled me in on the connection to Owen Taylor." Hotch nodded. "I received the files from DCPD earlier this afternoon and they really don't contain much more then we already know. However, shortly after you arrived at the O'Brien residence, I received a phone call from Detective Winslow with DCPD. They discovered two more bodies in the trunk of Owen Taylor's car. The car was parked in a few miles away from the warehouse, under an overpass."
Hotch lifted a photo of the open trunk of a silver Mercedes. Everyone shuffled through the files in front of them and pulled the photos out and steadied them as he spoke. The two bodies, both clad in black tactical uniforms.
"What does the arm patch say?" Prentiss lifted the photo up close, straining her eyes to read the small print on slightly visible patch on the shoulder of one of the dead men.
"Elite International," Hotch answered, "Taylor's security company. The victims were identified as Eric Hauser and James Fields, both employees of the company."
"Well that answers the question as to why a warehouse full of guns was left unguarded." Rossi said.
"The garrote wire used to kill them recovered still wrapped around Eric Hauser's neck." Hotch continued, "There were no prints or identifiable marks anywhere on it."
Hotch pulled another set of photos from the file and directed the team to do the same. They looked over the image of what appeared to be scattered impressions in the sand near the edge of the building. Once they had refocused on him, he retrieved a printout blueprint of the warehouse and lifted it for them to see.
"The photos you're looking at were taken on both the north and south ends of the warehouse, near the only access points." Hotch pointed to the areas and the blueprint and circled them with a red marker.
"This is where the UnSub took out the guards?" Rossi said. Hotch nodded.
"So the UnSub hides out in the dark and waits for the guard to come around the corner." Morgan thought aloud, "then he gets the drop on them and strangles them. With the element of surprise and tool like a garrote wire, it would be easy for him to take them out quickly."
"The other guard is posted all the way on the other side of the warehouse," Prentiss added, "There's no way he'd hear anything. He'd walk into the exact same trap."
"The autopsy report came back as well," Hotch said, "and just as suspected, Owen died from massive blood loss. However, his Tox screens showed a trace amount of Phenobarbital in his system."
"He was sedated?" Reid asked, shuffling through the papers for the autopsy report.
"With small doses," Hotch nodded, "Only trace amounts showed up on the report suggesting it had already begun to wear off before he was killed."
"That must be how the UnSub got him into position at the warehouse." Reid spoke quickly, "He drugs him with the Phenobarbital and straps him to the chair while he's still unconscious. He would have had to take out the guards first."
"Richard O'Brien was tied as well, but his wife Michelle said she had only been away from the house for a few hours. Is that enough time for the drug to wear off?" Rossi asked, "Richard would have had to be conscious to be kneeling."
Reid frowned, and shook his head no.
"Why did he take the time to tie him up if he was just gonna shoot him?" Prentiss thought aloud, studying the photo.
The room went silent for a moment as everyone thought on the obvious question that had eluded them. Hotch pulled the two separate crime scene photos and set them in the center of the table and they all leaned in to compare them.
"It's the knots." Reid blurted out. He tapped his finger against the photo, emphasizing his observation. "The knots are the same."
"They're knots, Reid." Morgan said skeptically.
"Yeah, but they're not typical knots." Reid shot to his feet. "Garcia, can you bring up these two photos on the projector and zoom in on the knots?"
Garcia had been sitting quietly listening and jumped up at the request. She quickly grabbed the photos and stuck them into the scanner at the back of the room. She clicked away at a few keys and the overhead projector powered up and JJ dimmed the lights. The team watched with interest as the images appeared on the screen and Garcia manipulated them, rotating and zooming until both were large clear images of identical knots.
"See look," Reid stood and wracked his hand against the large pictures, "look at the pattern of the rope ends. It's an alternating up down up down pattern with end crossings on opposite sides."
"You lost me." Morgan said.
"This could be the UnSub's signature." Reid said, "If I can identify the style of knot, I may be able to narrow down occupations or hobbies where it would be commonly used."
Garcia shot from her seat again and ripped her laptop computer from its bedazzled pink case that she had tucked under her chair. "Hold on, I can help you with that."
They watched her in confusion as the laptop powered up and she swiped her finger frantically over the cursor sensor as if it would speed up the upload. Once the screen had powered up she set the laptop in the center of the table and turned the screen to face them. She clicked at the icon and the speakers wailed a sharp mechanical ring.
"Come on." Garcia said quietly, tapping her fingernails against the computer. "Pick up."
"I swear Penelope, Someone better be dead." The voice crackled through the speakers as the video feed popped up on the screen.
"Two someone's actually" Garcia said, "Look alive, you've got an audience."
The team sat awkwardly around the table staring at the young woman in her pajamas. Apparently, their late night conference call had woken her. Her face fell at Garcia's announcement and she straightened in her chair.
"Uh, can you see me?" she asked.
"Sorry Cass," Emily gave her a sympathetic wave and the woman blushed.
"Garcia?" Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and she jumped, turning the screen to face the images on the board.
"Cassi, what is this?" Garcia tapped the board with the end of her pen and watched the woman blink away the sleep she'd been pulled from.
"It's a knot." Cassi answered.
Morgan threw his hands up in the air to say I told you so and Emily laughed at the look of annoyance on Reid's face.
"I know it's a knot," Garcia rolled her eyes, "What kind of knot?"
Cassi rubbed her hands over eyes and pulled her glasses on and leaned in closer to the screen. The Agents sat and waited, slightly amused.
"Looks like a Carrick." Cassi said and sat back in her seat.
"A what?"
Garcia spun the computer on the table until it the screen faced Hotch, who had asked the question.
"A Carrick," She repeated, "or in your case, a full Carrick. It's pretty much just a modified Sailor's knot."
"What's it used for?" Rossi asked.
Cassi's eyebrow went up her forehead in confusion and she tilted her head at the sound of the voice. "How many of you are over there?"
"Seven." Reid answered.
"Cassi, the knot." Hotch pulled her back on track.
"Right sorry, um, it's used for a lot," She scratched her head, unaware that her hair was sticking up and matted on one side, "mostly just to secure things. I use them a lot in rappelling. They also work really well in wet environments where other knots will slip and jam."
"Why would someone use one to bind someone's hands together?" Emily asked.
"Someone's hands?" Cassi frowned, "I don't know, maybe because they don't give. You tie someone up with a Carrick, they aren't going anywhere."
The team sat quietly for a moment, considering the new information.
"Who would know how to tie one?" Reid asked.
"Military personnel, recreationalists, fisherman, I don't know, but if they used it to tie someone's hands, I'd assume they'd have to be fast at it. They take practice to do properly, so I think they'd have to it frequently."
Hotch listened to the woman's description and studied the images on the board as she spoke. The intricate weave confused him and he agreed with her assumption of the amount of practice it would take to tie it.
"Thank you Cassi, sorry we woke you." Hotch said, "I know you are consulting on another case for us, but can we call you back if we find something else related in this one?"
"I guess. Does this have anything to do with those murders I saw on the news?" she asked.
"It does." Hotch grimaced. "But I have to remind you that all details to open investigations are…"
"Classified," she interrupted, "yes I know. This isn't my first rodeo."
Garcia smiled at the comment and retrieved the laptop. Hotch thanked Cassi again for her help and Garcia closed the lid, hanging up the call.
They spent another half hour going over the new and old information and comparing them before Hotch finally noticed Emily fighting to keep her focus. He checked his watch and mentally kicked himself for keeping them so late. He had wanted her first day back to go smoothly for her. He had seen the news feed, and noticed her slight falter at the corner of the screen. She was struggling, though she would never admit to it. Finally he closed the file in front of him and called it a night. He watched her shuffle slowly to her desk to retrieve her things and he followed her.
"Prentiss," he spoke quietly, "Let me drive you home."
"Oh," she shook her head, "you don't have to do that Hotch."
"I know, but it's late and it's been a really long day. You could barely keep your eyes open in there. I'd feel better if you let me drive you."
Emily blushed, embarrassed that he'd caught her.
"Okay. Thank you."
He quickly retrieved his things from his office and they bid the rest of the team a good night from the parking garage before heading off to their homes for some much deserved sleep. Hotch couldn't help but appreciate the one perk of working a case so close to home. They could all enjoy their nights in the comfort of their own homes.
Author's Note: So? Did you like it? Click it an let me know!