A/N: I love writing and I love a challenge but this chapter just about had me giving up! I knew what I wanted to be revealed in this chapter but couldn't think how to do it. Massive shout out to everyone following, reading, favouriting and reviewing - it's all of you who kept me motivated! So thank you :)
bball21, the UNSUB was toying with and drugging Emily for about a bit longer than a month but had been following her for a lot longer than that. And I'm going to leave you guessing about whether that was Lana at the beginning...
Hope this was worth the delay while I figured it out :) Next chapter shouldn't be quite so problematic! Let me know what you think :)
/
Lana Saunders' mother lived just under an hour's drive from Quantico, which was a relief to the team – driving further would only have slowed down their investigation. JJ had called ahead to check that Mrs Saunders was willing to speak with them, as the woman hadn't been happy when she had turned her away before. Thankfully, she agreed and Rossi and JJ were soon on the road.
"Are you sure you're OK?" Rossi asked, after twenty minutes driving in silence. The blonde agent sat in the front passenger seat, leaning her arm against the window, and gazing out at the ever-changing blur of trees outside.
"Fine," she mumbled, without moving anything but her lips.
"Well, I'm not," Rossi said, unexpectedly, causing her to alter her statue like position and turn round to face him. "Someone almost killed our friend – how could we possibly be OK?" He glanced away from the road for a second to look at her pointedly.
"I mean that I'm not any worse than anyone else," she replied, turning back to the window.
"It would be understandable if you were finding this harder," he stated and she ignored him. Rossi meant well, but feelings were not something she wished to discuss on this trip. "You were the one that found her and I know you're still feeling responsible."
"I'd rather discuss how we're going to interview Mrs Saunders," she remarked flatly, though her mind was filled with the faces of the, as yet hypothetical, brunette college students, who had died as a result of her judgement call.
"OK," he agreed, with no sign of resistance and a tone that suggested the conversation was moving on. He had no desire to push JJ if she didn't want to talk. "What approach do you suggest we take?"
/
/
Just like JJ, Reid was also unusually quiet as he and Morgan drove to the college. Derek pointed this out as they pulled into a parking lot on campus.
"I'm thinking," Reid replied.
"You normally do that and speak at the same time. Whether we want you to or not!" Morgan smirked, trying to elicit some kind of a smile or reaction from his colleague.
"Maybe I feel like thinking quietly today," Reid responded, rather shortly, as he climbed out of the SUV.
Morgan caught up with him as they approached the building in which they were meeting Lana's counsellor.
"You know I'm only teasing, kid?" he reminded his colleague.
"I know," Reid replied. "But we have work to do," he said pointedly, leading the way into the building.
/
/
"I'm almost certain Hotch didn't mean for you to set up base in my room," Emily grinned, as Garcia tapped away on her keyboard in the corner of the private hospital room.
"But this way I can do my job and keep you company," the blonde woman replied as though hers was the most obvious approach to be taken. She glanced at Emily over the top of her laptop screen. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" she asked with a frown.
"Not at all," Emily reassured her. She was actually glad of the presence of a friendly face and a little noise in the quiet room. "Are you getting anywhere?"
"Emily Prentiss, this is oracle of the technological highways you are speaking to – what do you think?" she joked, reluctant to concern Emily with the details of the case.
"Really?" Emily raised her eyebrows, knowing exactly what Penelope was trying to do. "I don't need protecting!" She didn't want to lose her temper with her friend but she was fed up with the shared looks and whispered conversations between her colleagues. It seemed like everyone had forgotten that she was still one of them, even if she was also a victim this time. "It's still me," she sighed, giving Garcia a slight smile, in apology for snapping at her.
"Emily, I didn't mean…" Garcia suddenly felt bad – she hadn't realised that her desire to wrap Emily in cotton wool had been causing more harm than good. "You want to see what I've got so far?" she asked, getting to her feet and lifting her laptop from her makeshift work station.
"Thank you," Emily smiled as Garcia sat down in the chair beside her bed and tilted the screen so that they could both see what she was working on. "But if Hotch asks, I was sleeping the whole time you were here!"
/
/
JJ and Rossi arrived at Mrs Saunder's house within the hour, and sooner than JJ would have liked, they stood on the woman's doorstep waiting for her to answer the door.
"Agent Jareau," she greeted JJ, with a curt nod. The woman seemed older than JJ had remembered, and thinner too. Her tired eyes and troubled expression instantly informed anyone she met that she had suffered some terrible loss.
"Mrs Saunders," JJ responded, fixing a professional and understanding smile on her face. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us. This is Agent Rossi," she introduced her colleague. Mrs Saunders acknowledged him with another nod.
"You'd better come in," she told them, turning her back to the agents and stepping into the hallway. JJ and Rossi followed her towards the living room, where she indicated for them to take a seat in the sofa. "So what do you want to know?" she asked, not in the mood to make small talk with her visitors. "Do you believe me now?"
"Mrs Saunders," JJ began carefully, but she had nowhere to go. The still grieving mother took over.
"During the worst time of my life I came to you and asked for your help. You had nothing to give to me. You wouldn't even consider the idea that Lana had been murdered. But now you're coming to me for help. Tell me, Agent Jareau, how does that come about? How does it make sense that the FBI comes to me looking for assistance, but they couldn't bring about justice for my daughter?" Her eyes never left JJ as she spoke and channelled more than a year of anger and hurt into one calmly communicated monologue.
"The evidence," JJ started, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, as she attempted to recite the justification she had tried to convince herself of. "At the time…" she trailed off and looked up from her feet to meet Mrs Saunders' emotionally charged gaze. "I'm sorry," she said, simply and sincerely.
"What happened to change your mind?" Mrs Saunders asked, barely acknowledging the agent's apology.
"Another case has emerged which bears similarities to your daughter's death," Rossi answered, stepping in, in an attempt to protect JJ.
"Who?" she questioned, directing the conversation back towards the visibly uncomfortable blonde.
"An FBI agent," JJ answered. "But we suspect there have been others." Though she knew it might not have been the most helpful approach, she couldn't do anything but be entirely truthful with the woman in front of her.
"It's different when it's one of your own, isn't it?" Mrs Saunders asked.
"Yes, ma'am," JJ agreed, as Rossi watched in disbelief at the sight of the normally brilliant agent depart from their planned approach, and balance on the edge of professionalism.
"What do you need to know?" the older woman asked.
"Did Lana ever mention having the feeling that she was being followed?" JJ asked, regaining some of her normal composure.
"Yes," Mrs Saunders replied. The woman had appreciated the agent's honesty – she had come across so many cold, hard professionals since her daughter's death and it was refreshing to come across some real emotion. "Let me get her diary for you."
Half an hour later, JJ and Rossi returned to the SUV, armed with Lana's diary and her mother's accounts of her distant behaviour and changes in personality.
"Interesting approach," Rossi commented as they began the drive back to Quantico.
"It worked," JJ replied, readopting her earlier position of staring out the window, but neither of them was under any impression that JJ's attitude had been tactical. She had allowed her emotions to interfere with the job and it was only by chance that the outcome was to their benefit. However, that was a fact which would never leave the confines of the car.
/
/
It felt like an eternity before Hotch heard anything from the members of his team. He was sitting in what he had been told was an office, but which he suspected was in fact a cupboard. He busied himself sifting through the box of statements and other files relating to Lana Saunders' death, while he waited on the officers who had attended the scene coming off patrol. At some point, when he had begun to think he would be abandoned in the hot and airless room forever, Will LaMontagne had arrived with coffee.
"Thought you might need this," the detective had remarked, as he appeared by the door. "I know JJ is runnin' on the stuff right now."
"I'm keeping an eye on her; on all of them," Hotch replied, before thanking the man for the coffee. He knew Will was concerned for his wife's well-being.
"I know you are," Will responded, and then the unit chief realised the main purpose of the man's visit.
"You can tell her that I'm fine," he assured the visitor, with the hint of a smile as he was reminded how caring his team could be.
"She's not gonna believe it," Will responded, with a knowing smile. "How you gettin' on anyway?"
"I just received a text from JJ and Rossi – they're on their way back with Lana Saunders' diary. But I've not found anything of significance here and I haven't heard from the others." Hotch's normally calm demeanour was showing signs of fraying. Will was sympathetic towards the unit chief's frustration.
"If you need anythin', just yell," he told him. "I'll be in the office upstairs." He'd have liked to stay and help his wife's team in some way, but he had his own case to work on and then had to pick Henry up from school. The coffee run had only been to satisfy JJ's request that he looked in on Hotch.
"Thank you," Hotch nodded.
"I'll make sure and tell JJ that your doin' OK," Will smiled as he left the room and the dark haired man returned to the seemingly useless records in front of him.
/
/
"Thank you for meeting with us," Morgan smiled gratefully, as he, Reid and Lana's counsellor sat around a desk in a chaotic office, filled with half-dead pot plants, endless stacks of paper and coffee mugs in the process of becoming science experiments. They had politely declined any sort of refreshment.
"I hope I can be of some assistance; I did voice my concerns at the time of Lana's death." The grey haired woman watched the agents over the top of the purple frames of her glasses.
"You did?" Reid asked, in surprise. Hotch had only just been in touch to tell them that there was nothing in the police department's files to suggest anything other than suicide. And that the officers he had spoken to barely remembered the girl.
"Yes, I did. Lana wasn't the only student convinced that she was being followed." She rose from her seat and made her way over to a bookshelf containing more precariously balanced folders and notebooks. "These are all the notes I made during sessions with Lana and with other girls exhibiting similar behaviour and concerns. I showed them to the police; they weren't interested. Not that I blame them – when any mention of mental illness arises, we are only too ready to attribute happenings to the illness without further question." She placed the wobbling stack on the desk with a soft thump and pushed it towards the agents, giving them a small smile. "Now are you sure I can't interest you in some coffee? I'm sure there are some clean mugs here somewhere?"
"No, thank you, ma'am," Morgan replied, returning her smile. He wondered if it was inappropriate, given the circumstances, that his mind had firmly labelled the woman as "batty".
"How many other students came to you exhibiting similar behaviour?" Reid asked, turning the conversation back to the case before they were forced to drink from one of the petri-dish mugs out of politeness.
"Five," she answered immediately, making it clear to them that the death of her student hadn't faded from her mind. "Not all at the same time and not all to the same extent, but in the months leading up to Lana's death, five other students came to me with the sudden onset of anxiety or depression like symptoms. And they all had a sense that they were being followed. But this is what I found most strange…" She paused to skilfully pull six slim folders from the bundle on the desk, and passed them to Morgan and Reid, who opened the folders to reveal the student profiles of six girls, including Lana. The girls were all dark haired and pretty and had taken classes in criminology or psychology.
"Are any of these girls still students here?" Morgan asked, knowing that they had found something very important. The counsellor nodded and leaned across the desk to pick two files from those in front of the agents.
"These two are seniors now," she explained. "Sarah Anderson and Victoria Winters."
"Would we be able to speak to them?"
"Of course. I'll help you set that up," she replied, picking her way between the boxes which littered the floor until she reached the door. "I won't be a moment."
"JJ was right," Morgan remarked, when they were left alone, voicing what they already knew to be true. "Emily was not this son-of-a-bitch's first."
Their eyes lingered on the photos in front of them and they dreaded to think what Garcia would have uncovered in her wider search.
/
/
Hotch didn't like the serious expression on Garcia's face when he answered the video call. Despite his own serious demeanour, he preferred it when the tech analyst was her usual bubbly self.
"Garcia, have you found something?" he asked.
"We've got six other suspicious looking suicides which meet the criteria you gave me," she answered, distress evident on her face. "Four are from other colleges in Virginia and two are police officers," she continued. "I've sent you and the others all the details." Hotch sighed, as he processed the expanding scope of their investigation.
"Were the modes of death the same?" he asked, knowing he would be able to read all the details soon but wanting the key points immediately.
"No sir," she replied. "Some of the victims cut their wrists, some were found hanged, and one of the police officers overdosed." Her thoughts immediately turned to Emily and she was glad that the dark haired agent was beside her and safe. Hotch's head filled with similar thoughts.
"How's Emily?" he asked.
"You can ask her yourself," Garcia replied, her face brightening slightly, as she adjusted the laptop so as to include Emily in the view of the camera.
"How are you doing?" he repeated his question, directing it at the agent it concerned. He had only had a brief opportunity to look in on Emily, on the night they had spent in the hospital waiting room. She had been unsettlingly pale and drowsy at that time, so it was a relief to see her sitting up in bed, with some of her colour returned to her cheeks.
"I'm feeling much better," she assured him with a smile. "Just want to get out of here now."
"I hope you're doing what the doctors tell you, Prentiss," he responded, half in jest and half as a warning that she should take it easy.
"I haven't left my bed, sir," she replied, honestly but missing out the fact that she had been helping Garcia from that position.
"Good to hear it," he nodded, the corners of his lips turning slightly upwards. She wasn't fooling anyone with her perfect patient act, but the fact she was undoubtedly pushing the rules was a sign that she was feeling more like herself.
"How's everyone else getting on? Do you have any other leads or information?" she pressed, not even trying to hide her desire to be involved.
"I've hit a dead end with the police department and the officers who attended the scene of Lana's death, but the others were more successful and are on their way back now."
"Is there anything else Garcia and I can do?" Emily asked.
"You can get some rest," he told her, seriously. "But I'll have the team meet at the hospital instead of Quantico," he added, softening slightly.
"Thank you, sir," Emily replied, pleased that she wasn't being excluded.
"I'll be there soon, but Emily, please don't push yourself too much?" He was pleading with her as a friend rather than giving her an order.
"I won't," she promised and Garcia also assured Hotch that Emily would rest until the team arrived at the hospital.
After ending the call, Hotch collected the almost entirely useless files and the notes he had taken during his interviews with the officers, and prepared to leave the precinct. He felt moderately more in control than he had earlier in the day. Emily was getting better and they had enough information to build a profile. All they had to do was catch this guy.