Running an old comb through his greying hair, he examined his blood-shot eyes critically in the dusty mirror. Hardly noticeable, he was sure.
He sighed, placing the comb back on the counter and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.
The day had barely begun, yet already he had little hope in its success.
The damn blonde just would not cooperate. Honestly, he had thrown her how many bones in the last two days, and given her every chance to redeem herself... God she pissed him off.
Kids today had no sense of respect, always ready to abuse his hospitality.
Well it was for the last time, he decided.
How dare she doubt his determination? True, the FBI could prove a formidable foe, but did she honestly think him incapable of following through with his goals? Had he not proven his seriousness in the matter already? He would find a way.
And then he would make her pay.
Just thinking about her made him angry and he slammed the door on his way out of the bathroom, knowing she would be able to hear the sound resonate through the house.
Donned in an old pair of grey overalls and a casual striped shirt, he couldn't think of any way to make himself more average and inconspicuous looking. This he considered to be a necessary accomplishment, as his next task would require him to be near invisible.
The universe seemed to be working against him as of late. His suspicions of this had been solidly confirmed half an hour earlier, when his boss called and asked him to do some field work since they were short staffed.
This was a rarity in itself, as it was his day off and Gary was usually the type of guy to respect that. But God worked in mysterious ways.
Of course, he and God weren't exactly on the best of terms.
When Gary called he had immediately refused, claimed illness and pleaded to be left alone. However, he could not deny the fact that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and far too coincidental for him to pass up.
Thus, he would now head over to the lovely agent's hotel once more, as this was where his services were required.
Apparently the cops wanted a professional opinion on the recent hotel power-outage. So he would go, chat, lie, maybe cover his tracks if need be.
Just so long as he didn't get caught.
He was ninety-nine percent certain of his safety in this respect, but there was always that one percent to worry about. He had immediately smelt a lie when Jennifer had warned him of the FBI's progress-- he had been careful not to leave any evidence behind and according to the government, he didn't even exist.
However, he couldn't help but notice that he had been getting a little bit messy as of late, so it couldn't hurt to check the place out and make sure he hadn't missed anything potentially incriminating.
Maybe even see how the case was coming and make sure he stayed two steps ahead of the cops.
He headed down the stairs and into the living room, where Constance was sitting patiently in a blue arm chair.
She looked up at him as he entered, but did not make a sound. He acknowledged her with a forced smile and informed her of his departure as he moved toward the front door and began lacing up his boots.
She told him to be careful and he promised he would not come home empty handed.
"So how was it last night Casanova?"
"The hell are you talking about Mitch?" came Officer James Jordon's somewhat distracted reply as he flipped through the morning paper.
"You know..." The young Officer Mitchell Kalian raised his eyebrows suggestively, turning the cheap plastic chair toward James to monitor his reaction. "Playing hero and protecting the frightened, emotionally vulnerable young waitress for the night."
"Aw, come on man." He put the paper down on his lap. "I was on the job. You know I wouldn't pull that stuff."
"Oh, yeah, of course man, not you," Mitch said in mock disbelief. "You can't tell me you didn't at least think about it. Seriously, almost every porno I've ever seen has that exact plot line, it's got to happen in real life once in a while, or where would they get the inspiration?"
"Since when does porn have a plot, smart guy?" he pointed out with amusement.
Mitchell laughed and raised his coffee mug. "Cheers to that!"
Officer Jordon raised his half empty cup in salute as well and the two sat in silence for a moment, watching the electrician mess with some more wires, grab something from a tool chest, and continue inspecting the wiring for an explanation to the power-outage that the investigators may have missed.
Officer Kalian was about to go out of his mind with boredom.
Two and a half hours of babysitting some handyman was wearing him thin.
He couldn't believe his supervisor had sent him to do grunt work; that's what the newbie's were for.
His mind inevitably wandered, "Dude, she was totally hot."
"God," James commented, exasperated, "is that all you ever think about? She was the victim of a violent crime."
"I would hardly consider a break-in to be a violent crime."
"She's got a boyfriend."
"And?"
"She's staying at his house."
"So?"
"He's in the house!"
"Your point?"
"She's got a kid."
At this Mitch paused in consideration. "Good point."
Content with his apparent victory, James continued drinking his coffee and resumed reading the paper in silence.
Mitch spoke up again moments later, "Was the kid in the house?"
James shot him a warning look, "No, the kid is staying with Jane's folks up in Twin Lakes--" They both jumped when the electrician dropped something on the ground, the sound reverberating off the walls of the hotel basement. "You okay man?" James inquired, receiving a polite nod from the guy as he went back to work on the circuit box.
"And it doesn't matter anyway," he said, continuing and turning back toward his young colleague, "nothing is going to happen."
Mitch chuckled disapprovingly, "Well not with that attitude."
He stuck his left hand in the pocket of his overalls, watching the two cops closely to make sure they didn't see him shaking.
His palms sweated and for a moment he was certain he would drop his tool kit as a result.
He felt as though he were coming out of his skin, his excitement was so intense. He simply could not believe it. He finally found her. She would finally be his.
Perhaps the universe really was on his side.
Of course, he thought triumphantly, it was, after all, his destiny.
She was his destiny.
Now he and Constance could be together forever-- just as he had always wanted-- without the barriers of time and age. They would have each other for all eternity. He would be healthy again; his youth restored. Everything would be perfect.
The officers were walking casually in front of him, apparently in no big hurry to return to the office.
They were engaged in what he assumed to be yet another lewd conversation, but he was only partially listening.
His breathing was uneven, his heart pounding, his entire body shook and his senses were more acute than he could ever remember them being. Typical adrenaline response, he noted, trying to regain some composure before this physiological response was noticed.
They asked him to come back to the station with them, for only a minute, they assured, just to get the 'big boss' off their backs and provide a statement. No big deal. He could handle this.
Hell, this would be a piece of cake compared to the terror of watching his body rot before his eyes; A terror that he had been exposed to everyday of his human existence, but one that would soon end. All he had to do was get through this and then nothing would be standing in the way.
Well, he pondered, he would have to deal with the woman in his basement.
There always seemed to be a 'woman in the basement' to deal with.
He had no further need for her.
This thought caused a devious grin to spread across his face.
Perhaps it would turn out to be a good day after all.
He'd reclaim his little angel, make the annoying bitch suffer, and Constance... She would be so pleased.
As they turned the corner and found themselves in yet another empty hall on their way through the police station's administration building, he suddenly recognized a familiar voice coming from up ahead.
He saw his opportunity for revenge on Agent Jareau immediately.
He didn't know what exactly he intended to do, but as they reached the end of the hall, and came closer to the source of the voice, he stopped abruptly, and reached down to tie his shoe.
The two officers accompanying him took no notice and continued walking, but from his new vantage point he could clearly see the reflection of the two BAU Agents headed toward him in the glass of the door across the hall.
He knew he could not logically take on the FBI, and his previous threats were, in fact, rather empty, but perhaps he needn't kill them to prove his point.
All he needed was enough evidence to make her believe he had killed them.
How would her precious conscious fare with the weight of their deaths resting on her shoulders? Though he would prefer a finger, or even an ear, to bring back as proof, he knew he needed something less ambiguous and decided he would have to resort to some of the masterful skills he picked up on the street.
He watched as Agent Reid, and a woman he recognized from the photograph as Agent Prentiss, moved towards him, in deep conversation.
The moment Agent Reid turned the corner, he stood, and they collided. The files the young agent had been carrying fell from his hands and scattered to the floor.
"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," Spencer Reid stuttered and apologized, his face flushed, reaching for some of the files strewn on the ground. Emily Prentiss knelt down to help.
"No, no, it was my fault, I wasn't watching what I was doing," he offered, playing the friendly-handyman and offering an apologetic smile while picking up some of the files as well.
The collision had been a short exchange but offered him ample opportunity to inconspicuously pick-pocket the object he was looking for as he offered the agent a hand up and gave him a polite pat on the arm before they parted ways.
He couldn't believe his own cleverness.
After lifting Dr. Spencer Reid's federally issued badge right from under his nose, (or more specifically, from his inside jacket pocket) he had been feeling even more elated and pleased with himself than ever. It was like taking candy from a baby.
Though he was, not for the first time, somewhat disturbed at what easy targets the BAU had turned out to be.
No wonder the country was in such a state of disrepair, they were letting anybody join the FBI these days.
Upon returning home, he had made a few creative alterations to the good doctor's badge.
Yes, it would most definitely do the trick.
He burned and demolished it just enough so that only Agent Reid's photo and part of his name could be made out.
He didn't want to just kill the woman who had caused him so much stress and aggravation. No. He wanted her to suffer with her last breath. It would serve her right.
He knew he had to leave soon.
Hopefully he could make it to Twin Lakes by three o'clock. That should give him more than enough time to track Jane's parents down and whisk the angel away.
However, before he left he intended to give Agent Jareau her present.
He knew she would love it.
As a finishing touch, he took out his knife and cut lightly across his upper arm, letting the blood drip slowly onto the badge.
He chuckled to himself, rolling his sleeve back down and headed for the basement door.
This would be fun.
He only wished he could stay for the show, but time was of the essence.
He let his boots thump heavily as he went down the steps, wanting her to be anticipating his arrival. He debated whether or not to turn on the light, but quickly decided that it would be in his best interest to do so. He wanted her to see the blood and dirt clearly enough to get the full effect.
When the light flooded the room he could see her huddled in the far corner of the cell, her hair draped over her arms and her head down. She didn't look up but he could tell by her breathing that she was awake.
She held her legs as close to her body as possible, as though trying to disappear into the wall. He sauntered over to the bars.
"Too bad you couldn't have been there Jennifer," he began reminiscently, "it was a blast; But don't worry darling, I saved you a souvenir."
He tossed the black, leather-bound badge through the bars. It landed beside her on the mattress.
She didn't move but he knew she would find it after he left. Without another word he turned and walked nonchalantly away, leaving her to her own imagination and knowing that one's imagination could be the most dangerous place of all.