Present time…
"Eric," Sylvie called melodiously, shaking him back to the present. "Is Saturday okay?"
"What about Saturday?" he asked, blinking back his confusion.
"The wine tasting Sylvie suggested we go to this Saturday," Alcide supplied rather pointedly.
"Oh, uhm, I really can't commit."
Sylvie's face fell while Alcide and Rikki exchanged a look. If he had been less of a bastard he would have felt uncomfortable. But he was a bastard and he had reached his quota of good deeds by just showing up to this date.
"Of course, sheesh, I forgot that BAU folks are practic'lly nomads," Sylvie prattled on, in a valiant effort to save face.
Alcide looked as though he was about to disagree when his mobile phone vibrated on the table. Rikki took that as an opening to excuse herself to go to the powder room. Sylvie did the same to probably talk about what a douche her date was.
Eric, out of reflex, dug his phone out of his pocket and checked for a text. The screen remained blank and he cursed mutely for not realizing his cell was out of battery.
Alcide's loud, dragged out groan told Eric the message came from the office.
"Roman?" Eric asked, cocking his head and trying to read the electronic missive.
"Willa. New case."
Alcide waved at the maitre 'd and gestured for the check. "So much for getting laid," Alcide whined. "This better be good. This son of a bitch better be fucking diabolical."
They had no idea.
E/S
Alcide was still grumbling when the two of them strolled inside the briefing room. Roman Zimojic, a middle-aged man with receding hairline and seemingly perpetual scowl, was in his black-and-white suit along with their fellow agents, Kibwe Akinjide and Willa Burell also in their three-piece suits. Kibwe, who was almost the same age as Roman, was an African-American man with lesser hair than their unit commander. Willa, the youngest in the bunch, had been with the team a year longer than Eric. She was their tech whiz; rumor had it that before she was recruited by the FBI, she was a notorious hacker herself, specializing in identity theft. Can't beat them, hire them.
Roman and Kibwe were seated around the oval wooden table while Willa stood beside the widescreen monitor mounted on the wall. Willa, who was cradling her mobile tablet close to her chest, knotted her brows when she saw Eric and Alcide enter the briefing room.
She threw Roman a nervous but quizzical glance before turning back to them. "Eric, what're you doing here?" Willa asked haltingly.
Eric and Alcide gave each other a look. "My phone's out of battery. I was with Alcide when he received your text. I am still part of this team, aren't I?"
No one uttered a response as Willa and Kibwe kept eyeing Roman with evident unease.
"Is it about my psych eval? Because Dr. Agrippa has cleared me. I've already sent the paperwork to HR."
"It isn't about you, Eric," it was Kibwe who took the honors of vaguely illuminating him. "It's about the case. I'm afraid you'll have to sit this one out."
Eric's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"We are not in liberty to discuss," Kibwe countered.
"For Christ's sake Kibwe, do you really think he wouldn't find out?" Roman spat with an exhausted huff. He tipped his head to the lone female in the group. "Start with the briefing, Willa. Clock's ticking."
Willa nodded but not without giving Eric another nervous glance. She skated her fingers over the screen of her mobile tablet and the monitor sprang into life. A photo of a young man with long black hair popped up. "We received word from our field office in Atlanta. Four hours ago, two men were abducted an hour apart from each other in Georgia. First victim was Jake Purifoy, a barista. He disappeared in the middle of his shift while taking a cigarette break in the alley behind the coffee shop. Patrolmen found a white handkerchief with traces of chloroform in the alley. A witness saw an unmarked white van pulling away from the scene. They suspected blitz attack."
She began fiddling with her iPad again and a new image materialized on the screen: another man with short tousled brown hair and blue eyes. "Victim number two was a psychiatrist, Ben Flynn. Unlike the first victim, he was taken from his residence and with more force. The kidnapper used a bump key to get in and shot the housekeeper in the head. There were signs of struggle in the master's bedroom. The psychiatrist gave one helluva of a fight."
Eric gingerly sat down on a swivel chair beside Alcide, eyes fixed on the screen.
"Different MOs. Are we sure we're dealing with the same unsub?" Alcide pitched in looking at the monitor.
"Yes," Kibwe stated matter-of-factly.
"The kidnapper made contact?" Alcide asked again, unconvinced.
Eric, however, was already working on another theory. One that was making his stomach churn.
"Eric, this is the part where I ask you to step out," Roman ordered in a flat tone. Willa stiffened and so did Kibwe, while Alcide turned his incredulous gaze to Roman then back to Eric.
"With all due respect, Sir, I'd like to stay," Eric replied in a flat and unyielding tone.
The tension in the room was palpable as Kibwe shifted in his seat while Willa considerably blanched.
Roman pinned Eric with a reprimanding glare. Eric returned it in kind. A few pregnant seconds passed.
It was Roman who blinked first. With exasperated tired sigh he picked up one of the folders and passed it to Eric. "Ballistic report on the bullet that killed the housekeeper came in. It was from a nine millimeter revolver that had been reported stolen a few years ago. It was last registered to you. It was the same gun used to murder Adele Stackhouse."
E/S
Three years and nine months ago…
His stomach was growling rambunctiously, if he might add. Thank God for the band or he would have embarrassed his bride while they do the meet and greet at the assembly line in front of the reception hall of the hotel ballroom. If she had only listened to his pleas to skip the reception and head straight to their honeymoon suite up on the top floor, he'd be halfway done licking whipped cream off of her.
He could tell she fidgeting. Discreetly shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while chewing on her lower lip.
"Stop biting your lip, that's my job," he teased her as he leaned in.
She nudged his rib with her elbow, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Shut up," she whisper-hissed.
A few 'Best Wishes and Congratulations' later they were finally free to take their seats in the podium beside the band.
That was when he noticed that their table was still empty.
It shouldn't be.
"Where are they?" she voiced out his thoughts.
His eyes raked the room for any sign of their immediate family.
"They're riding with Jason," he answered as he continued searching for Pam, Adele and Jason.
"Oh right," she replied as they stepped on the podium. "I still can't believe you're letting Jase drive the shag mobile."
He chuckled. He should have told her that he, like her, had named his Corvette, Red. Too late now, Red would forever be known as the shag mobile.
"I was blackmailed. He refused to give me his blessing unless I let him have Red for a night."
"And who gave you the idea that you need his permission to marry me? I'm not a bike that he can let you ride."
"Uh-oh," he hummed with a smirk. "Is this our first marital fight?"
"Damn right it is."
"Well then, I concede. You're absolutely right; you're not a bike. Because if I play my cards right, you'll be the one doing the riding tonight."
She laughed. "You pig!"
He sniggered. "The joke's on you. Congratulations, Mrs. Northman, you married a pig."
Their laughter was cut short when Calvin Norris - one of the on-duty deputies - approached their table, a grim look on his face.
"Sorry to do this, Sheriff, but mind if we have a minute?"
"Cal, my husband's off the clock," Sookie singsonged with a syrupy smile, snaking her arm around Eric's.
Calvin flashed her a tight smile. One that Eric appreciated. "It'll only take a minute, ma'am."
"Fine," she pouted. "I have to go and powder my nose anyway. I'll still be timing you though," she said wagging her finger at the deputy while unclasping her arm around Eric's.
"Don't miss me too much," he whispered to her ear then planted a chaste kiss to her cheek before helping her down the dais.
As soon as Sookie was out of sight, Eric and Calvin moved to the bar, which was the farthest Eric was willing to go away from the podium.
"What is it?" he snapped, forgoing pleasantries. One look at the deputy and he knew that he was there on official police business.
"Have you heard from Pam or Jason?" Calvin started, beads of sweat forming on his sun-kissed forehead.
Eric straightened his spine and skewered his deputy with a look. "Why?"
Calvin wiped the sweat off his temple with the palm of his hand. "Sheriff, when was the last time you saw either of them?"
Calvin was switching gears and Eric didn't like where he was heading.
Eric's teeth squeaked as he gritted them. "Don't try to handle me Norris and tell me what the fuck is going on?"
He saw Calvin's Adam's apple bob, visibly agitated. "One of our patrolmen spotted a red Corvette at the side of the road five blocks from the chapel. He ran the plate and confirmed that it was yours Sheriff. It seemed like it was abandoned so he called it in. I responded to the call. The doors were unlocked, glove compartment open. We found traces of blood in the backseat as well as drag marks which led us to the trunk of your car." Calvin swallowed again. "We found Adele facedown with her hands bound by a zip tie behind her back. She was shot twice at the back of the head."
E/S
Present time…
"This is why you want me off the case?" Eric asked in a gravelly voice. His throat was suddenly dry. It wasn't bad enough that he used Eric's spare to murder Adele, he had to use it again on another helpless old lady.
"No," Roman replied grimly. He turned to Willa again and nodded stiffly.
On cue, Willa flicked her thumb on her tablet making the monitor blink for a second before two separate images swarmed the screen: photos of two glass vials filled with thick crimson liquid. Eric's belly knotted as his hands immediately curled into fists.
"These vials was inside an unmarked box sent to Atlanta PD an hour ago. Forensics ran the blood inside the vials. They were two different types."
"B and AB," Eric whispered almost inaudibly, his lips barely moving.
Roman nodded for Alcide's benefit.
"How did you know?" Alcide turned to Eric.
"This unsub has a particular signature; he collects his previous victims' blood as trophies and leaves them in his next crime scene. And this isn't the first time Eric has encountered him," Roman interjected.
Alcide sucked in his breath, comprehension washing over his face. "It's him," he blurted. "It's the Sanguinista."
"Yes," Roman nodded. "And if he sticks to his M.O., we know we have less than 24 hours to catch him before he kills one of these two men."
Eric whisked his head to Roman, his eyes probing. Something wasn't adding up. "Why are you kicking me off this case?" He couldn't understand. Eric and the unit chief had forged an alliance against the Sanguinista even before he joined the Bureau.
"This came with the package containing the vials," Willa answered for Roman. She flicked her finger on her tablet and the picture on the monitor changed from the blood samples to a tiny cardboard note. On the note there were three lines of typewritten words:
Eric Northman,
One to go.
Happy Hunting, Sheriff!
A/N: I don't own Eric. I can only wish.
Next chapter is almost done where more questions will be answered as to what happened to E/S after the wedding. We are boarding the angst train. First stop: Georgia.
Thank you for reading and leaving reviews! Sorry I haven't been able to reply to your sweet and kind remarks, it's just that RL is pretty chaotic right now. Your reviews keep me sane, seriously. Thank you!
So much love goes to the awesome amandagm!