Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine.
A/N: Sorry for the delay again. Real life obligations and all that. Plus, I had a bit of hesitance again in writing David Rossi. I adore his character, but for some reason, his voice has been a bit harder to hear.
7. Hunted
David Rossi loved hunting. Oh, he wasn't the big game sort of guy. He had enough "big game" with his usual, unpredictable day job hours. No, he enjoyed his duck and his pheasant. And if the rare inclination hit, sometimes he would go as big as turkey. There was some sort of reassurance in knowing that the duck, pheasant, and sometimes turkey couldn't shoot back at him. And knowing that was probably what brought him here today.
He smiled as he opened the cabin door and dropped his go-bag without caring where it landed. They'd all earned a couple of days off and he was going to use it to his every advantage. He loved his money, as was more than apparent some days, and he loved what his money could buy him… But more than anything, he loved that his money afforded him the lifestyle to live simply. A federal job didn't exactly scream 'simple'. But when the days allowed, he could at least figuratively drop off the face of the earth and not worry that something would fall apart in his absence.
The only thing that expected his attention and diligence out here was his shotgun, his boat, and the wilderness. And the occasional pad of paper and pencil should a stray book idea crop up. He still had those ideas once in awhile. And some days he regretted not being able to spend the amount of time he would have liked shaping those ideas into what his publisher would deem as another best seller. "Retirement" had been good to him.
Some days, the word retirement toyed with his mind and he wondered if slipping back into relative predictability would be the best option for him these days. He could spend the rest of his days sitting in this very cabin hunting and writing to his heart's content.
But that was never going to work. Not really.
The chase was back in his blood. The challenge. And he couldn't just walk away like he had those years ago. And the circumstances had been different back then. Now, with everything that had happened over the past months, he'd feel like he was just giving up. And he was no quitter. With that, he smirked to himself and walked into the modest kitchen. A nice glass of wine called to his spirit, and he wasn't one to deny it.
The cabin wasn't overly large. It was meant to be a refuge for one. But that didn't mean David Rossi skimped on the good stuff. He smiled to himself as he went to the stocked wine rack and took out a 2003 vintage Tignanello. He had done well to ask one of his neighbors, Grace, to take care of the place every once in awhile. Grace, and her husband Wade, had owned the cabin four miles down the road for twenty years before he'd bought this place. They'd all become fast friends as the next friendly face was miles away. And to that end, Grace had taken it upon herself to "take care" of David Rossi, especially knowing what he did and where it could take him. Thus, a well-stocked wine rack and fridge. Not to mention a clean cabin.
As he popped the cork on the wine bottle, he let it breathe for a few moments, going over to where Grace had stacked whatever mail that actually made it out to him in the backwoods. Most people didn't even know he had this property, which was a good thing. But still, the ever-tenacious ones could find a way… and they usually did.
His eye caught on a hand-written envelope, which was extremely rare for him to find after all of the years of coming out here. It was addressed to him personally, which only piqued his interest. He picked up the plain envelope and opened it.
Inside was a simple piece of paper. His mind was already going a mile a minute as he unfolded the paper and read its limited contents.
DEAD.
He took a deep breath as he studied the note. It was a Quantico postmark. For the person to have mailed this when they did they had to have a deep understanding of his habits. Not to mention an understanding of how the BAU's "A" team operated. Only someone with that knowledge could know how to predict the off schedule. Those facts alone sent a chill up his spine.
Yes, David Rossi loved hunting. But this time… he had the distinct displeasure of being the hunted. He didn't like it.
