3
"Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from the imitation of those who we cannot resemble." -Samuel Johnson.
A month had passed since the case in Arizona, and Charlotte was still staying with Jason. They both agreed that at the end of the month, she'd find her own place. He was helping her look, but they couldn't find anything close to headquarters. She still needed to get a new driver's license that wasn't twenty years in the future. She had been cleared to use weapons; her gun was locked in a safe that only she could open.
"I wasn't too loud getting in, was I?" Charlotte asked as she made their breakfast. "I was hoping to be a little quieter."
"You were fine," Jason waved off her concern. "How was the concert?"
"Oh, it was awesome. I'd go see Slipknot in concert again," she grinned, and he could still see some of the heavy makeup on her face from the night before. "Granted, I think I terrified the taxi driver. I must've been ten beers in when the show finally ended. And I did hang in the mosh pit the entire time."
That explained the bruising on the side of her face. And the bruising on her knuckles. He squinted at her leg. And shin. He should have been worried that she had gotten into a brawl, but the happy glint in her eyes made him smile. She served him toast, eggs, and sausage before pouring him a cup of fresh coffee. If she wasn't good at hunting or being an FBI agent, he really should look more into that. She would've made a wonderful cook. She was dressed professionally; the section chief had given her grief for her lack of business apparel. Borrowing a shirt from Jason and a skirt she already owned was enough to pass for now. She needed to go shopping. She could hit up Penelope. Her wardrobe could do with some fun in it, and she knew that the other woman wouldn't judge her for her clothing choice.
"Any dreams lately?" Jason asked. His interest had been piqued when she admitted to seeing the unsub Clara in a vision.
"Just a loud explosion and then a car alarm," she admitted, picking up her cup of tea and sighing. "Ramiel said it would get easier over time, but these snippets aren't helping any, and if I continue to draw the faces of our unsubs, then it brings too much attention to me."
"You could always tell the team," Jason suggested, picking up their newspaper.
"Without concrete evidence of the supernatural, I can't," she sighed. "They wouldn't believe me even if I smacked them with a demon."
He opened his mouth to ask what she meant by that and quickly closed it. She meant what she said. She would've definitely thrown a demon at someone. She most likely already had. She finished her tea and quickly got up. They needed to be at the office in half an hour. He chuckled at something in the paper, and she smiled. She enjoyed their domestic moments.
"I need to stop by Penelope's office and ask her if she wouldn't mind shopping with me this Friday," Charlotte informed him as they went into the headquarters. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
"Don't let her make you too colourful," he warned, which got a laugh out of her.
"I'll make no promises," she stated, grinning.
The way to Penelope's office was short, and she took a short breath before knocking on the door. The sounds of music, a pop song she didn't recognize, stopped, and the wheels of a chair sounded against the tiled floor. The door quickly opened, and Penelope stood there in her multi-coloured glory. Her blonde hair was exceptionally poofy that day.
"What can the supreme genius do for you, sugar?" Penelope asked.
"I need help finding work-appropriate clothing, supreme genius," Charlotte embarrassedly explained. "Strauss doesn't like the way I dress."
"She can't handle good fashion. She got on my case a lot when I started," Penelope stated with a slight grin. "As long as you pay for coffee and food, I'm down."
"I thought that was a given," Charlotte said, grinning in response. "I've got to go. I don't want Derek or Spencer to give me crap for being late. See you around, sweet pea."
Charlotte walked through the headquarters and watched as a few agents nodded as she passed. She couldn't have imagined being in the heart of the FBI and not be arrested. Hunters were hated by the law, but at the same time they always let them go. She entered the bullpen and saw Jason standing near the conference room. He waved her forward and she nodded.
"Why is it always bombs?" she couldn't help but mutter. It echoed a saying she once had about demons.
"It's one of the most effective weapons for revenge," Spencer stated, and she nodded in agreement.
"Pipe bombs," Jason informed her.
"Packed in cardboard boxes," Derek added.
"Package bombs," Hotch said, looking at the photographs scattered on the table.
"Were these sent through the mail system?" Charlotte asked, picking up a picture and studying it.
"No," Derek said, before looking towards Jason. "The picture in your hand is of the switch that the ATF found. Same mechanism for both bombs and mercury activated."
"What does that mean?" Elle asked, putting down a picture and picking up another.
"There are contacts to a detonator on either end of a bent tube full of mercury," Spencer informed her.
"What that means is all you have to do is tilt the package to detonate it," Derek stated.
"So, there's no possible way it went through the mail," Elle said. "The bomber would have to deliver them himself."
"It's an upper-class neighbourhood, right?" Charlotte asked. "Most houses should have security cameras. Is it possible for us to get footage from them if there are any by the scene?"
"Think the bomber might've been caught?" Hotch asked.
"It's possible, but that's only if there's a camera in that area," she admitted. "And the likelihood of that is slim. Very slim."
"It's a strange way to commit an act of terrorism," Hotch stated. "Why go through all this trouble to kill just a few people?"
"Let's recommend not raising the terror alert level for now," Jason suggested. "No reason to spread panic."
"We got news," JJ informed them as she opened the door and turned the TV on. "This is just a local channel, but the coverage is everywhere now. CNN, Fox, MSNBC, Al Jazeera, you name it."
"Sounds about right. September eleven wasn't too long ago," Charlotte said, wincing slightly. "Any sign of a bomb would set tensions high right now."
"So, much for not spreading panic," Hotch dryly stated.
They listened to the reporter talk on television. They were given information; the victim was badly injured but stable in the ICU and that the neighbours had heard something in the late morning. Nothing else was said about the bomb, which informed Charlotte that they had no idea what was happening. No one did, and she gathered this was usual with most bombings. Like the cold case of the bomb collar bank robbery, no one had been able to solve it. It was one of the few cold cases that she had found interesting as a kid.
"If DHS doesn't raise the terror alert, no, they'll look weak," Jason said.
"Make sure homeland security knows that this is everywhere," Hotch told JJ.
JJ went to leave when another bomb went off during the report. Charlotte had been in the process of opening up a blueberry red bull when it had gone off. They all watched in surprise. That was a bold move from an Unsub, one that they hadn't been expecting so early.
"Looks like we're going to Palm Beach," Hotch informed them. "Let's meet at the airstrip in twenty."
"It had to be another bomber after her," Charlotte grumbled to herself as she and Spencer left to get their things ready.
"At least we have information on how this one might act," Spencer tried to lighten her mood.
"True, but I don't think this one will have a religious background that I can tune into," she stated before realizing something. "I'll be back. I left my drink."
"Wei-Chi?" Spencer asked as he held up a board.
"Do you want your ass kicked?"
Well, he would have to accept that challenge. Charlotte headed back to the conference room and was handed her unopened drink by Hotch of all people. She gave him a thankful smile before noticing Jason's expression. He… he cared deeply when something bad happened. Too deeply, and that was his biggest fault. She couldn't judge him; she was like that too. She jumped slightly when Hotch cleared his throat.
"Seriously, am I that fun to startle?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Yes," Derek answered, and she made a strange sound.
"Right, I'm going to be helping Spencer," she said. "He's nice enough not to startle me."
"At least she doesn't tackle people to the ground anymore," Jason commented in a light tone, snapping out of his daze.
Jason left them with that information and didn't elaborate further. They had all noticed the bruising on her, and there was no explanation for that. They shared a look, and Derek shook his head. He almost didn't want to join the team. Between Jason's slight breakdown with Clara and Charlottes strange personality, he was worried that someone would get hurt. He watched as Spencer got Charlotte's attention and held up a book. She smiled at it, and asked him something.
"Right, to the SUVs of doom," Charlotte joked as she grabbed her travel bag and tossed it over her shoulder.
"The flights aren't that bad," Spencer stated.
"As long as you don't start telling me the odds, I'll be fine," she said.
"Han Solo," he said, nodding.
The Wei-chi board was set up on the jet as the team entered it. Spencer and Charlotte sat across from one another, he was the white pieces, and she was the black. It was a defensive player against a switch, and Jason was curious to see who would win. Hotch sat next to her as Jason took a seat next to Spencer. They wanted everyone on the team to participate in the conversation, even if two of their members did something to keep their attention rapt. Spencer and Charlotte could play games and still participate in the dissection of an unsub's personality. The jet took off, and the only sign of displeasure from Charlotte was a Wei-chi piece being slammed into the board, an apologetic expression following the action.
"Bombings occurred within three miles of each other," Hotch debriefed them. "First victim was a seventy-four-year-old widow, Barbara Keller. Two hours after that, Clurman got hit in his driveway, and forty-five minutes later, well, we all saw that."
A move was made on the Wei-chi board as Hotch placed a photo beside it. Charlotte moved her hand away from her face where her finger had been against her lower lip in thought. With her lower split lip, Jason made a mental note to not join a mosh pit. He didn't think he'd make it out of one unscathed.
"Hill Swenson, a thirty-four-year-old housewife who lived across the street from Clurman," Hotch continued. "Of the three, only Clurman survived."
"Is there any connection between the victims?" Spencer asked, looking up from the board with a frown.
"One, Clurman was a partner in a ten million dollar condo development deal in which Keller was an investor," Hotch answered, and Charlotte couldn't help but feel like it was the most he'd ever said to any of them. "And a few weeks ago, the whole deal went bust."
"How?" Charlotte asked.
"Geologists discovered that the land was on methane, the condos never got built, the land became worthless, and Clurman lost a lot of people a lot of money," Hotch informed them.
"So, there's a lot of people that could be our potential bomber," Charlotte said, frowning.
"Maybe one of them was mad enough to take aim at Clurman," Spencer agreed, making a face as Charlotte blocked one of his attempts to take over and took some of his territory.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jason warned. "It's a little too early to theorize about motive."
"Then where do we start?" Elle asked.
"From the beginning," Jason answered as though it had been obvious. "What do we know about bombers."
"Mostly male, loners," Spencer stated, making a face when he lost another territory. "History of criminal activity. About fifty percent of all bombings are actually the product of vandalism."
"And more often than not, bombers end up accidentally blowing themselves up," Hotch added.
"So, the first suspects, in that case, are the victims," Elle stated as Spencer finally gained some territory. "Clurman is the only male victim, and losing a large business deal would be an incredible stressor."
"He's also the only victim we can talk to without a Ouija board, or some other form of Spiritual communication," Charlotte dryly stated, getting her territory back. "My game in two."
"He was also the only victim who didn't get hit at his door," Jason added, and Spencer began to study the board more intently, wondering what he had missed. "Why? What was different about this one?"
Charlotte blinked before finishing the game, so she had one move. Spencer sat back in disbelief and studied the board completely. Defensive his ass, she was an aggressive defender. Any time he gained territory, she quickly changed her strategy to regain it, and more. Twenty years had made her good at the game. Too good.
The jet landed and they drove to the crime scene. Charlotte was in the front seat for once, and watched as they went through the city. It was nice not to be the one driving or too focused on a hunt not to pay attention. Granted, with this one, she wouldn't be able to enjoy the beaches or the piers. Oh, she'd have to try and make some seafood when they got back to Quantico. She propped her elbow up, and Jason noted that her jacket hadn't gotten her yelled at yet. The new Slipknot jacket, and other articles of clothing she had from that concert, were obvious, especially in the warmer weather. She'd never really been to Florida; most monsters didn't want to mess with the citizens of that state. She didn't blame them at all for that. Floridians were terrifying.
"Is it always this humid in Florida?" she quietly asked, getting out of the SUV when they came to the crime scene.
"Always," Jason confirmed.
"Ew," she muttered before noticing something. "I'm going to talk to the police about the security cameras. Even if we don't get a face, we'll get the height and weight of the unsub."
Hotch nodded at that, and she moved towards a group of police officers. He paused at the jacket with symbols and a band name on it. A few of the officers grinned at the sight of it, and she smiled back to something they said. He moved to study the crime scene with Jason.
"Right. Are there any security cameras in the vicinity of the crime scene?" Charlotte asked the officers.
"There's a few on the street corners," an officer with dark skin informed her. "We can send you the footage from them."
"Anything helps. It'll let us see the car and the unsub themselves," she told them with a kind smile.
"We're going to go talk to Clurman," Jason informed her as he walked up to her.
"Right, thank you again," she said to the police officers. "I'll look over the footage when I get back."
The hospital was normal for Charlotte. She'd been in a few over the years. Her nose crinkled at the smell of disinfectants and the bright lights. She put her hands into the pockets of her new jacket. The black denim was a comfort and grounded her just the slightest. The blueberry red bull in her hand was half full. She hadn't pounded it back in the jet due to the game of Wei-chi. Spencer had distracted her long enough for her to not drink it.
"Spencer, you distracted me from drinking my energy drink," she chuckled. "Nicely done."
"I wanted to see if it would work," he shrugged as they entered Clurman's room.
"Hello, Mr Clurman," Jason greeted. "I'm SSA Jason Gideon, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, and this is agent Charlotte Singer. We're here to ask you some questions."
"We'll keep an eye on him," a nurse informed them. "Try not to stress him out too much."
"Yes, sir," Charlotte quietly confirmed.
"Can you tell us about the package, Mr Clurman?" Jason asked the older man.
"I thought I knew what it was," Clurman informed him. "A pot for an orchid. I collect them, I ordered the pot through the mail."
"Why didn't you take it inside?" Jason asked.
"It was for my office," Clurman answered. "I was going there anyway. I thought I'd take it with me. That's the last thing I remember."
"You had an argument with Joe Reese. Do you remember that?" Jason questioned.
"Joe was there?" Clurman was confused.
"Concussion," Charlotte quietly muttered to Spencer. "He's not going to remember much, especially with the painkillers he's going to be on."
"He was angry. He accused you of blowing him off," Jason reminded the man. "Any reason he'd want to hurt you?"
"Joe? No," Clurman said. "I mean, he's a confrontational guy; if he wanted to kill me, he'd just beat me to death."
Charlotte had to agree with that. She knew how to make a bomb, only out of necessity sometimes monsters could only be killed that way, but even she preferred a gun to a bomb. If she had a bone to pick with someone, she typically let them know. Being forward was the best thing as a hunter, but she wondered if it was the best thing as an FBI agent. She picked up Clurman's medical charts. He definitely had a concussion, but the worst thing to happen to him was the loss of a limb. She flexed her hand slightly and pursed her lips. She'd felt that before, the phantom pains of a limb that should be there, it itching and not being able to scratch it. If she ever came across the woman that gave her, her hand back she'd have to thank her profusely. A small smile appeared on her face; she wondered what she'd think about her being part of the American government. She'd probably get a shoe to the back of her head.
"A lot of people were angry about that deal falling apart, and they were angry at you," Jason told him. "I don't know. How does that make you feel?"
"I felt awful," Clurman admitted, wincing in pain as his phantom limb ached in pain. "I thought those condos would make a lot of money for a lot of people, myself included. I thought the geologist was legit; he didn't even take samples. He scammed us. All those investors who lost their money…but Barbara…"
"Barbara Keller?" Jason asked.
"The first victim," Spencer stated.
"Yeah," Clurman confirmed.
"What about her?" Jason questioned.
"It's just such a shame, such a nice lady, you know?" Clurman stated. "It was such an easy sale. Sometimes, I felt like I took advantage of her because she was old and lonely. Now she's dead…I feel terrible."
He gained another pained expression, this one more severe. It was followed by pained grunts and his attempt to move. Jason stood back a bit, and Charlotte gave the older man a look of pity. That was never the easiest thing to go through. She moved out of the room to get a nurse. She found a woman in a pair of baby blue scrubs, she looked up, a tired expression on her face. They were the same age, and Charlotte knew that she'd never feel that type of exhaustion. She had respect for the nurses.
"Mr Clurman's experiencing heavy phantom pain from his lost limb," Charlotte explained, and the nurse stood up straighter. "I didn't know who else to go and find to get him some help."
"Don't worry, we'll get in there and help him," the nurse said, and Charlotte nodded.
"This isn't our guy," Jason stated as Charlotte returned with the nurse.
"Yeah, he's too coherent," Charlotte agreed.
"Even when sedated, he was showing signs of humour and displayed empathy," Spencer agreed.
Jason motioned towards the two of them and held up his cell phone. He was reiterating the information to Hotch. Spencer paused as they came across a vending machine, and Charlotte chuckled as he handed her a red bull. A peace offering for distracting her on the plane. She cracked it open and gave it a sip.
"Thank you," she said, putting both hands on the can.
"I didn't peg you for a fan of metal," Spencer admitted. "When you talked about opera, I didn't even think of metal."
"I listen to a lot of things, metal, opera, video and movie soundtracks," she stated, listing it as she thought. "Even anime soundtracks, anything that brings me that serotonin boost, really."
"He has a hobby unrelated to bomb-making," Spencer stated as Jason continued to talk about the case to Hotch.
"This is nothing like a typical bomber profile," Jason told Hotch.
"No, and our last case was nothing like a serial arsonist," Charlotte pointed out. "What about the materials that were found? Those helped last time."
"We'll see if the fragments match at the bomb scene," Jason stated, and she guessed she'd asked something in unison with Hotch. "But I doubt they will."
"I still need to check over the security footage," Charlotte said. "Just drop me off at the station, and I'll start looking through them to see if I can get any sign of the unsub."
Jason gave her a serious look, and she nodded. She could also try and see if she could trigger a vision. Her dream of an explosion had been dead on, and they might be able to get more into their case if she could see who the unsub was. He dropped her off at the station, and she gave them a mock salute before heading inside. A cop motioned towards a computer and a pair of headphones. She smiled and took a seat before placing the headphones on. She had five small windows of each camera and five different angles. She ignored two of them. They didn't show the crime scene, only the backyards of two houses.
Charlotte sipped on her red bull, ignoring the feeling of eyes on her person. Sure, she was a strange FBI agent, but she didn't deserve to be stared at. She was typing something on the computer when she saw the cameras go dark. She sat back in annoyance and tried to type something into the computer, but nothing was helping. She blinked when it came back on with a bright light. Ah, that was the last explosion on the scene. She let out a scoff of disbelief. Just what was going on? This bomber was…familiar, as though she'd seen it before.
"The security footage isn't going to get me anywhere," she informed the team as she walked into their makeshift conference room. "The footage cut before the first bomb was even planted and came back on after the last one."
"I can almost feel your annoyance," Elle commented.
"Just a little," Charlotte admitted. "Any news from Derek?'
"Nothing, him and Garcia are trying their best with the shards we have," Hotch answered, startling her and making her shoot him an annoyed look. "The only thing we can do is wait."
Charlotte decided that she hated waiting. She thought she had a hate-love relationship with it as a hunter, but this was bad. Waiting could get other people killed when chasing an unsub. At least with ghosts, demons, and vampires once could wait to get to them during the times of day that they'd be at their weakest. But an unsub could hide in waiting, or they could escalate their crimes. She picked up her drink and took a sip of it. She could stay awake until then when the case was over. She brought out a small handheld device, the Gameboy having been something she'd owned for years. Coming back to the mid-2000s allowed her to get a new battery for it. There wasn't much they could do, and she needed to keep herself busy. Playing Pokémon would help, if not for a little while. She felt Hotch standing behind her, and she simply continued to play. He couldn't have a big issue with it since all they could do was wait. She picked up her energy drink and finished it off. She put it in a nearby trashcan and went back to her game. Leaf Green had always been a personal favourite of hers. She noted the passage of time, her grinding to level up all her pokemon to level 100, keeping her somewhat busy. Elle had left the room, going to get some rest and change. She was stuck in a room with Hotch.
"Why not delve into a religious aspect again?" he asked, watching as she didn't even look up from the game.
"There isn't a reason to," she said. "With Clara Hayes she did things in groups of three, something that caused me to think of religion. Sorry, this one is a clear-cut case of a bomber, but not one of a religious manner due to the type of victims."
Sound reasoning. He stood up from his spot as she continued to play her game. She heard the door open and close and heard soft sounds out in the bullpen of the police station. It had only been five minutes, and a single member of the elite four when he came back. A cup of coffee was placed in front of her, causing her to send him a confused look. She wondered why they were all enabling her caffeine addiction, first Spencer and now Hotch.
"Thank you," she decided to just thank him.
He didn't respond, being on his laptop. He checked his phone, and she gave a sad smile. He was away from his pregnant wife, no wonder he was worried. She picked up the coffee and wondered how he knew that she liked it with creamer. Smart man. She started the next battle against an elite and got caught up in it. She had a strategic team, but she didn't know how well it would work. She was banking on the high levels to get her though it. Hotch picked up his phone and brought it to his ear. They must've gotten something from Derek.
"Go time?" she asked when he hung up.
"Morgan sent us an email," he informed her. "Garcia was the one to compile the information to his specifics, so we'd know what he found."
Spencer and Jason were the first ones to appear, Elle quickly following. Hotch brought up the email on the small screen as the Gameboy went back into the messenger bag. Charlotte was giving the case her full attention. Her silver eyes focused on the image before them.
"Morgan emailed these over," Hotch told the rest of the team. "The three on the left are the bombs from yesterday. The one on the right is from the evidence room at Quantico."
"They're all identical," Spencer noted. "Made with steel reinforcement rods."
"Adrian Bale," Jason stated.
"Who?" the officer who called them down asked.
"He held out agents in a standoff in Boston last year," Hotch answered. "He took out six agents and a hostage with one of his bombs."
"This might be someone who's a big fan of him," Charlotte stated. "A copycat killer?"
"Has to be. He's in prison," Elle stated, her hands on her hips as she looked at the bombs.
"He has a cult following, like Charles Manson," Spencer said.
"There's one way to find out," the officer said, and Charlotte gave his badge a quick look.
Morrison, she remembered a cop like that once. He had told her she was going to jail before a ghost startled him. He let her go after that, and turned a blind eye when she had dug up the grave to salt and burn the body. It always helped when the local police officers turned a blind eye so they could work. She sat there for a few seconds. Now she was the person that had to turn a blind eye.
"Let's put the crews to this guy," Morrison stated.
"No, no, no, Bale's too smart," Jason stated. "If we want information from him, we must handle him carefully, and even then, you have to assume that road will lead nowhere."
"You're saying the connection to Bale doesn't help us at all?" Morrison asked.
"No, I'm just saying, let us handle Bale," Jason calmly said.
"Look, we just heard from local Texas P.D.," Morrison informed them. "You were right about Clurman's nephew. He admitted the bomb stuff was his, which is great for the Clurman's, but it leaves us with zero suspects. So, what do you suggest my men do now?"
"Proceed from the profile," Jason answered.
"I didn't know we had a profile," Morrison stated.
"You're going to receive one," Charlotte informed him, picking up her coffee to join the team as they delivered that profile.
She brought out her little notebook and searched for a pencil. She frowned when her bag didn't have one. Strange, she could've sworn that she had a few. She shrugged and borrowed one off of another cop's desk. It was nice, but not the usual type of pencil she wrote or drew with. It would have to do. She wrote down the information, non-confrontational, highly organized, above-average intelligence, works a job that allows him to be alone, and he's doing this just to murder. She tapped the pencil against the page in thought. There has to be a motive. There has to be.
"Your thoughts?" Charlotte quietly asked Spencer.
"Bale, he's our best bet," Spencer stated, and Elle grimaced.
"That's going to be interesting for Gideon," Elle commented.
Spencer and Charlotte winced. That was going to be bad for Jason. The man had suffered enough from Bale's crimes. The fact that they were forced to work with him bothered Charlotte quite a bit. She just hoped that she'd keep her calm. She didn't like the idea of Jason dealing with Bale on his own. She didn't have to worry too much. She and Spencer went with him, in the jet and not a car. She gained a defensive stance when they were blocked from joining Jason in the cell.
"I don't like that he's on his own in there," she quietly told Spencer.
"Neither do I," Spencer agreed. "Why are the officers looking at us strangely?"
"I'm wearing a Slipknot jacket with "satanic symbols" on it, a nice dress shirt, and pencil skirt," she pointed out. "I stand out compared to you."
"You glossed over the bruising," he countered, and she smiled slightly.
"Never join a mosh pit if you aren't ready to encounter a fight," she warned him. "It can happen in the heat of a moment."
"Are you an Asia fan?"
She gave him a giant grin at that before nodding. All they could do was wait for Jason to come out of the room, leaving them plenty of time to talk. Spencer and Charlotte talked about their hobbies that they seemed to share. Board games and, reading, video gaming was something that Charlotte mainly did, and going to concerts. He noted that she was athletic but not as much as Derek. She stood up straight when her phone started ringing. The Super Mario Brother's theme started going off, and Spencer looked at her in disbelief.
"This is Singer," she answered, ignoring the stares sent her way.
"Where's Gideon?" Hotch asked, and she winced at the serious tone he was using.
"He's still with Bale, but he should be out in a minute or so," she answered, looking back towards the bars that separated them from Jason. "They only wanted one of us with Bale, so we don't know what's going on in there. Do you want me to hand over the phone when he comes out?"
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Has something happened?" Spencer asked.
"My guess is yes," Charlotte stated, watching as Jason briskly walked out of the interrogation room. "Jason, Hotch is on the phone for you."
He motioned for the phone, and she gladly handed it over. He put it on speaker so they could all hear the conversation. So, they would know what they needed to do. They briskly headed towards the entrance.
"Bale may be part of this, but he's not in control of it," Jason informed Hotch. "If he were, he would have taunted me with specifics."
"So, what's our next move?" Hotch asked.
"I'll let Bale know the unsubs using his designs," Jason answered.
"Bait," Hotch said, catching on.
"Yeah, exactly," Jason confirmed. "If Bale wasn't part of it before, he'll surely want to be part of it now."
"I'm going to stay behind and monitor his mail, calls, visitors, and any contact that he has with the outside world," Spencer stated as Jason hung up and handed the phone back to Charlotte.
"Good, even if he doesn't know the unsub, he may want to try to contact him," Jason said.
"I'll head back with you and keep an eye on people injecting themselves into the investigation," Charlotte stated. "I'm good with finding people acting suspicious."
They all shared a nod and went their separate ways. Jason knew that she wanted to talk to him, alone. It was odd but not out of character for her. He was surprised that she lasted as long as she did without breaking down. Things were different for her, too different. They got into the car, and he started it up.
"You do realize that eventually, you will have to tell them," Jason informed her, and she made a face.
"I do, but I doubt they'd believe me without concrete evidence," she said, and he watched the tension in her shoulders disappear. "I hate lying to them about my past, that I can't just tell them the truth because it's so out of the realm of reality that no one would believe it without seeing something."
"You could always break one of their coffee tables," he suggested, trying to lighten the mood.
"If I did that, you'd never see me again," she admitted. "My trip was one way, the only thing that could take me back there would be an archangel, and I know that Ramiel won't do it, no matter how dire things could get."
"He owes you," he picked up.
"More than anyone realizes," she said. "When I…went to hell, it was to keep someone I cared about alive. I allowed myself to be torn to shreds by hellhounds…I wouldn't wish that on anyone but the most horrid monsters. Mainly because you're alive the entire time, they tear you up and then drag you down."
"You sold your soul," he said, knowing the story but not knowing the why.
"She was a Jamaican woman that practiced voodoo rituals and knew more about hunting than anyone else," a fond smile showed deep care for the woman. "I hope that she's safe and lives a long life."
He went to say something and noted that her eyes had glazed over, looking at only something she could see. A frown appeared on her face, and her left hand began to move. It was like she was drawing something. Her right hand began to twitch in thought, her head tilting to confirm that. He found himself pulling over to the side of the road, not wanting them to lose whatever vision she was getting. Her eyes focused, and she sent him a serious look.
"He's made a bomb collar," she informed him. "It's like Brian Wells all over again, I didn't see the victim clearly, but it was a civilian."
"Did you see the unsubs face?" Jason asked, getting back onto the road and driving as fast as he legally could.
"No, just the hands," she stated. "He's white, and married. His hands could place him anywhere from twenty-five to late forties. It's difficult to tell due to how low the light was. He was working with an overhead lamp."
"It's more than we had," Jason stated. "That's useful but not consistent. We need to get back to the jet."
"Do you want me to call Hotch?" she asked.
"Do you want to explain why you know that the unsub made a bomb collar?" he countered.
He heard her curse and noted the angry expression on her face. She couldn't. She didn't have any proof that her visions existed, and she didn't want to go in for a psych evaluation. Hotch would immediately order one if he caught wind that she had them. She bit her lip in thought.
"I could use past cases as a reference to what the bomber might do," she stated, pulling out her phone. "I'll send it by text instead of call. We might have the call cut off on the jet."
Her thumbs quickly flew across the keypad, the flip phone being a model called the HTC Universal, as she sent the message. It went through, and she wondered if he would text back. Probably not, knowing her luck. All she knew was that she was ready for 2007, so she could bring out her iPhone, and no one would bat an eye if the size was a bit too big or was just a little too good. It still worked, and Jason appreciated her music library being at his fingertips. She did have a nice collection of jazz music, which she played while they were in the jet. Her flip phone went off, and she immediately put it on speaker while Jason splashed water on his face.
"Bale has one hundred and eighty-six emails," Spencer informed them. "We were able to track down the names and some of the addresses, but none of them are in palm beach."
"How about occupations?" Jason asked.
"It wasn't a required field, so really, only about a third of them are filled in," Spencer answered.
"Well, the unsub takes pride in his work," Jason pointed out. "He would fill it in."
"Unsub is most likely a white male somewhere from his mid-twenties to late forties," Charlotte pipped up, and Jason nodded, letting her know that was a safe thing to say.
"Right," Spencer stated. "let's see…we have a trucker, physician, antiquities dealer, store owner, orderly..."
"Wait," Jason stated, drying his face off and looking over at the phone. "Antiquities dealer?"
"Yeah, why? What is it?" Spencer asked.
"Shit, one of the victims, collected coins," Charlotte stated. "Give the information to Hotch. They have more of an ability to get to our unsub right now."
"Right," Spencer agreed.
The phone went silent and all that filled the air was Harry James, it's been a long, long time. She shared a look with Jason. It wasn't going to end well. Someone was going to get hurt. She started to nervously wring her hands together and sat down. If she started to pace, it wouldn't help anyone. Her leg started to bounce, and Jason was surprised by that. The inability to act caused her to show signs of anxiety.
"I trust our teammates," she informed him, and he blinked. "I just don't like being unable to help people…my ma used to say I had a hero complex; she didn't know where it came from either."
He smiled slightly at that. She stopped bouncing her leg and looked towards one of the windows. Her expression was serious. She didn't know if they would head back to the prison to talk to Bale, or head straight to the temporary base. She put her upper body weight on her legs to try and keep herself from bouncing them in her agitated state. Her stomach grumbled, and she gained an apologetic expression.
"I've been surviving off of caffeine," she admitted when Jason raised a brow.
"Take out?" he asked.
"I was thinking good ole seafood, kind of like fish'n'chips," she said. "I haven't had in years."
The jet landed, and they went back to the office. Morrison greeted them, and Charlotte gave a polite nod of her head in greeting. Hotch and Elle had entered right as they did. It was a small group of FBI agents that caught the officer's attention.
"So far, nothing from the search," Hotch informed them.
"What do we know about Walker?" Jason asked.
"He's a quiet career criminal," Morrison answered. "Spent four years in prison for a series of forged cheques when he was in his early twenties. He's now forty-six. For the past eighteen years, he owned a store which sold coins, maps, and historical documents. We raised the place as soon as you gave us Walker's name. Most of his inventory was fake, forgeries valued in the millions."
"But the walls had started to close in on him," Hotch stated. "We talked to some of his clients, and he was in debt up to his ears and promising stuff he didn't have time to forge."
"Then Barbara Keller found out that the coins he had sold her were fake," Elle added. "She threatened to oust him."
"And if she had, all the forgeries would've been discovered," Hotch finished.
"That's a good twenty years in prison," Charlotte said in disbelief.
"So, he had to shut her up?" Jason asked. "He planted all those bombs just to kill one little old lady?"
"Yeah, and to throw us off, he made it look like it was much bigger than it was," Hotch said, looking over at Charlotte.
"Sorry, I was just putting it on the table as something other bombers have done," she apologized.
"You hear me!" Was shouted before they could continue the conversation. "I said stop now!"
A man, with tan skin and a piece of metal around his neck, walked to the doorway and fearfully looked at them. Charlotte brought a hand up to her mouth and hid her angered expression. She hated it when she was right about things like this. Elle took in a deep breath as Hotch stood up straighter.
"Help me…please," the man pleaded, opening his jacket to show the bomb strapped to him.
"Everyone, back! Now!" Morrison ordered, and the entire office took out their guns.
"Oh, for the love of god, put your weapons down," she snapped at the officers. "He's a victim, not a criminal."
"Call in the bomb squad," Morrison ordered, noting that a few of the guns went back down.
"It's not me," the man told them.
"Don't come any closer, put your hands up and walk slowly back out," Morrison told the man.
"I can't; he'll kill me," the man said.
"Who will?" Jason softly asked.
"I don't know," the man answered. "He held a gun to me, put this on me. He said you'll know who he is."
"What does he want?" Jason questioned, slowly moving forward as Charlotte finally circled the room and got a few more officers to lower their weapons.
"A helicopter and a passport," the man said before motioning towards the door. "He's watching. Once he gets what he wants, he's got instructions to defuse the bomb."
"Walkers close by," Jason told Morrison.
"Let's get snipers around the perimeter," Morrison ordered.
"Hey, we understand, and we're not going to leave you," Jason informed the scared man.
"Please, take it off," the man pleaded.
"Well, we need to figure out how the bomb's put together first," Jason calmly said.
"Tracy, you're in," Morrison said to a bald man that was rushing forward.
"This is a really sophisticated device," Tracy said, his voice holding some respect for it while taking pictures of it. "It looks like it was probably made by a master bomb maker, which means tampering with any part of it could set it off."
"So, there's no way to just cut the whole thing off of him?" Hotch asked as Tracy showed them the pictures to see more details.
"Not without cutting these wires," Tracy answered, pointing towards the wires that were threaded into the collar. "See how they're threaded all around the collar? They could be booby-trapped, or there could be a hidden secondary trigger."
"How do we find out?" Morrison asked, and Charlotte sent him a look that showed she didn't like him.
"Without knowing how this thing is put together, it's going to take a while," Tracy said. He then sighed. "I'll have to x-ray it, try to figure out which are the real triggers, but I don't think there's enough time."
"What do you mean?" Elle asked.
"There's a timer," Tracy answered. "We've only got about three hours left."
The man was still there, sweat going down his face as his breaths came out in harsh pants. Charlotte felt horrible for him. He was an innocent civilian that got dragged into someone's issues. Jason directed Charlotte to stand by Hotch and Elle. She gave a slight nod and took up her stance on Hotch's left side. If she hadn't been so used to the horrors and gore of hunting, she would've looked away from the man, but she couldn't. She refused to show that weakness.
"What is it?" the man asked Jason.
"We need to go outside," Jason said.
"N-No," the man immediately stuttered out. "He said he would kill me if I went back out. He made sure I told you that."
"Then we need to isolate you," Jason informed him.
"Why?" he asked, looking over at the police officers and agents. "There's nothing you can do? Is there anything?"
The officers called in swat as they took the man into an empty area, a place where if the bomb went off, then there would be few casualties. Charlotte watched as Tracy studied the bomb intently, trying to find the best way to remove it or even find a way to deactivate it. Jason looked towards her and watched as she bit her thumbnail in thought.
"I don't get it. If this guy is a hostage, then why hasn't Walker tried to negotiate with us?" Elle asked, frowning in displeasure.
"Maybe he's scared, or maybe he hasn't figured out what his next move is yet," Hotch answered.
"We have a bead on Walker," Morrison informed them, rolling out a map and pointing to a few buildings away from them. "A sniper spotted him in his scope. He's sitting in an office building across the street. It looks like a storage room with a small window facing us."
"We could surprise him," Elle suggested.
"That's a good idea," Hotch agreed. "If he feels cornered, he might give himself up."
"I don't know," Charlotte admitted. "It could possibly be the opposite."
"Generally, bombers are cowards," Hotch stated. "I'll take a team in, and we'll go in through the back of the building."
"Jason, is it possible to get Bales assistance in disarming the bomb collar?" Charlotte asked, making a face when Hotch shot her a look. "If he's copying Bale's bombs, maybe he picked up the collar from him as well."
"I'll try," Jason said, and she nodded her thanks.
"This feels wrong to me," Elle said as they headed out of the building and towards the office where Walker was. "Why would Walker let himself be found so easily?"
"He wants to be found," Hotch answered, and Charlotte's mouth became a straight line.
"Why?" Elle asked.
"To negotiate," Hotch supplied.
"Yeah, but then we lose the element of surprise," Elle pointed out.
"Well, hopefully, we catch him off-guard, and he gives himself up immediately," Hotch stated, and Charlotte could've smacked him. "If not, we take a hard line and make him feel like he's got no way out. Remember, we have to take him alive. Walker's the only one who can defuse the necklace bomb. Everybody ready?"
"Yes, sir," a few of the other agents and Charlotte said in unison.
"Let's do it," Hotch told them; he moved his wrist to his mouth, where a small microphone was. "We're entering the building. Copy that."
Charlotte gathered her earpiece was broken, or she didn't have it turned on. She reached behind her and grabbed onto the handle of her gun. Next to it was the radio. She gently checked the switch and flipped it. She would never let anyone know that she hadn't turned it on. No one would be the wiser. She got her gun at the ready and stood in a spot where she could easily fire her weapon without harming anyone in front of her. Her eyes darted around, keeping an eye on the darkness surrounding them. She saw figures standing in them. An old woman was one. Barbara, one of the victims. They were close then.
"We're approaching the door now," Hotch informed Jason.
"Copy that," Morrison said, letting them know he heard.
They quickly rushed towards the door and took spots against the walls to be out of sight. Hotch reached over and opened the door. Charlotte twitched when Barbara moved closer, the slippers she wore making slapping sounds that only she could hear. The FBI agents shared a look. Hotch and Elle noticed Charlotte thoughtfully looking into the room. She nodded, silently informing them that she had visual on Walker.
"David Walker? Federal agents," Hotch stated. "Federal agents!"
He received no reply. Charlotte got up from her crouch as Hotch started to silently count down at them. A few of the officers with them did as well. Her gun was in her hand, and she realized she was the only lefty in the squad. She snapped back to attention as they all quickly towards the room. Only Elle and Hotch went in, the rest of them acting as backups in case anything happened.
"Walker, freeze!" Hotch ordered.
"Okay, please, don't shoot," Walker pleaded.
"Show yourself," Hotch ordered again. "I'll shoot up the whole room."
"Christ on a crutch," Charlotte muttered. Her teammates would make pretty good hunters.
"Okay," Walker said moving to where he could be seen.
"All right, now put your hands where I can see them," Hotch said.
"I can't do that," Walker stated.
"Then I'll shoot," Hotch informed him.
"My hands on the remote," Walker told him. "I told you what I want. The passport, the helicopter, the flight."
"Walker, listen to me," Hotch cut him off. "You're at the top of the FBI's most wanted list. I think you're smart enough to realize there's no way we're letting you go. But here's my counteroffer, a change to get out of here alive."
"He won't take it," Barbara said, nearly startling Charlotte into firing. "That man, he plans to go down in flames."
Charlotte looked towards one of their fellow agents. One of them had a very suspicious look on his face. They shared a look and she noted the nervousness. Right, Jason's case gave him PTSD. That had killed quite a few agents. No wonder they all looked nervous.
"All you have to do is give yourself up," Hotch informed Walker. "Just slide the gun across the floor. You have until three. One."
"You wouldn't let the hostage die," Walker stated.
"You want to find out? Don't give yourself up," Hotch told him. "Two."
"Okay! Okay!" Walker exclaimed, putting the gun on the floor and sliding it towards them. "I'm coming out, don't shoot."
"Now walk slowly towards me," Hotch continued to order the man. "Let me see your hands, Walker."
"Hotch," Charlotte stated, noticing the movement as Walker messed with something. "He's got a bomb inside the room itself!"
"Get out of there now!" Jason yelled through their radios. "Now!"
"Everybody out!" Hotch ordered, and they all took down the hallway.
Charlotte went around the corner with Elle, the explosion going off, causing her to look back. It was small and contained. If she weren't so angry at the man for escaping justice then she'd be impressed by his ability. Hotch looked back towards the now ruined room and took in a deep breath. No one was happy that he escaped justice. They were just glad they were alive. The three agents had stopped, all at varying levels of anger.
"We're fine," Hotch told Jason, motioning for Elle and Charlotte to keep moving. "Everyone made it out, everyone but Walker. Is the hostage okay?"
"He's fine," Morrison confirmed, and Charlotte released a soft sound of relief. "For now."
"I don't want you in the room when Bale is here," Jason informed Charlotte as they reinterred the building.
"Okay," she agreed, not knowing why but understanding his motives.
"You agreed a little too easily there," Elle pointed out.
"Jason knows me well. He knows that if Bale does something, I don't like that I'll take issue with it," she admitted. "I'm already angry at Walker. Heaping more anger onto it wouldn't be the best idea."
"Elle will go with you," Hotch said. "You two get ready to head back to Quantico."
Charlotte knew that it was over. That the unsub had been caught. Elle drove them to the hotel that the FBI put them up in. Her things were with Jason's, never really opened. She had time to take a shower and did so. When she came out, dressed in a regular black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she noted that Elle was sitting in a nearby chair. A thoughtful frown on her face.
"I'm heading back," Elle informed her.
"Yeah, of course," Charlotte nodded.
Elle quickly left, and Charlotte pulled her jacket back on. She was surviving quite a bit these days. She let out a soft sound and watched as Barbara appeared. She didn't look like she'd been blown up, a gentle smile on her lined face. She vanished in bright blue light. For once, a victim showed that she had passed on. Charlotte found that it was worth it. Just to see that.
"Should I be scared?" Charlotte asked Penelope as they entered Potomac Mills.
"Always, but I know a few stores that you'll love," Penelope stated.
"One of them, GameStop?" Charlotte teased, causing the blonde to grin happily and grab onto the taller woman's arm.
"Be still, my beating heart. You might win me before our chocolate thunder does," Penelope stated, causing Charlotte to chuckle.
"I wish Derek were my type, but sadly mine happens to be taken men apparently," Charlotte stated without thinking.
She paused and looked over at Penelope. The blonde's eyes were wide as dawning realization appeared on her face. Charlotte paled before turning a bright red. Her embarrassment easily showing. She let out a cough, trying to regain her dignity.
"Not a word," Charlotte stated.
"Hotch? Really?" Penelope said.
"Why do you have to make it sound so scandalous?" Charlotte asked, and she would deny it to her last breath that she had whined. "I meant type of guy, I'm not going to break up a marriage. That's a fucked thing to do."
"That just tells me I need to find you a guy like… Hotch?" Penelope said as though she couldn't believe it. "I would've definitely thought of someone the same age as you."
"What can I say? I like them a little older," Charlotte muttered as her face returned to burning.
Penelope took a quick picture of the flustered woman before grabbing her arm and pulling her towards their first shop. Hot Topic. Charlotte looked at the familiar store, or at least familiar before it became filled with pop culture items, and began to browse. Penelope patted herself on the back for finding a store that their little mid-western could enjoy. She was a little surprised with how fast she found some scene clothing and how much of it. The buy one get one 30 percent off was going on.
"Now, for business casual, I go for Macy's or a boutique," Penelope stated. "You will learn how to wear colours, my young grasshopper."
"Jason has requested items not overly bright," Charlotte stated. "Granted, I'm not too pressed about it."
Penelope grinned, and Charlotte felt she should fear the blonde woman. She had been right, Penelope didn't see anything in the Macy's that would fit the taller woman and had made them go to the little boutique she had mentioned. It was so colourful and the styles seemed out of the 70s and 80s. Charlotte wondered if she had missed going shopping with friends or even just other women. She had always gone by herself and had ended up with band shirts, jeans, and maybe a new pair of shoes. This time she ended up with so much colour and shine that she couldn't believe it belonged to her. She hadn't even owned jewellery before. The bracelet that hung around her wrist was a testament that they'd be good friends.
"What's your story?" Penelope asked. "Even if it wasn't FBI work before now, you had a reason to help people."
"You know…" Charlotte stated, looking at Penelope in surprise. "What gave it away?"
"My parents were hippies," Penelope stated as they stopped at a nice restaurant for lunch. "Hunters liked being around them, I've noticed the signs."
"Congrats, the only other person that knows is Jason," Charlotte informed her before taking a deep breath. "Does it really not change how you see me?"
"You left it. I just wanted to know why you began," Penelope stated, and she watched as the woman gained a stumped expression.
"I was forced into it after my ma died. I was eight," Charlotte admitted, only taking a break from it to tell their drink order and food orders to the waiter. "Two years later, I was kicked out of the house to complete my first solo hunt. My father wouldn't let me back in the house without proof…he sent a ten-year-old to fight a werewolf."
"No wonder you have so many scars," Penelope concluded. "There's something else."
"You've picked up profiling," Charlotte tied to tease. "My uncle…he…well…."
Penelope stopped the woman gathering what had happened. The ex-hunter, who she knew had no previous records before a month ago, gave her a thankful smile before politely thanking the waiter as he brought them their drinks. Penelope brought her glass up in a toast.
"For getting out of it," she said.
"For getting out of it," Charlotte agreed, clinking their glasses together. "What's next?"
"Fries."
Penelope Garcia was surprised when she requested a stop at Jason's apartment. The man in question seemed surprised to see her back so early. He looked up from his book on birds and gave Penelope a polite nod. Penelope have gave an awkward smile back in response.
"She knows," Charlotte informed Jason. "If we ever need to talk, then Penelope is a good person to go to."
"Hippie parents," Penelope said, as though it explained everything.
In a way it did. It also made so many other things about Penelope make sense. He put a book mark in his book before setting it down. His glasses coming off and being placed on top of it. At least they had another person on their team that knew about hunters. He let out a soft sigh.
"She's not even from here, is she?" Penelope asked. "There were a few that talked to my parents, that talked of…future events. I've caught sounds of songs that aren't even written yet. Those hunters called themselves the displaced, as cliché as that is."
"We even have a bitchin name?" Charlotte asked, exiting her guest room and closing the door to hide the large pile of bags that she was going to have to go through.
"Do you think it's anyone you know?" Jason asked.
"Most likely," Charlotte stated. "When it comes to hunters, we all bump into one another eventually, even if we aren't hunting. It's the trauma."
"A man with light brown hair said that to my dad one day," Penelope stated.
"Did his name happen to be Samuel Williams?" Charlotte asked, recognizing the description.
"Yeah, I think it was," Penelope confirmed in surprise.
"That's…oh, he's alive," Charlotte stated, slowly sitting down in a chair.
"I broke her," Penelope stated, panicking slightly as Charlotte began to cry a little.
"You just confirmed that the man she saw as her father is still alive," Jason stated. "How long ago was this?"
"Almost twenty years," Penelope said. "I can check my records to see if he's still around."
"I'd like that, thank you, Penelope," Charlotte stated.
"Of course, Annie," Penelope softly said, making a watery laugh come from the happy woman.
"Let's get you to the home base for the supreme genius," Charlotte said. "Sorry for bothering your reading, Jason."
"No bother," Jason waved off her apology.
Fries electronics was a paradise to Charlotte. A nirvana to Penelope. She had forgotten what it was like to enter an electronics store and see genuine electronics. Most she had gone into in the next twenty years had been filled with movies and video games. Granted, there were still quite a lot of video games. Penelope spent her time checking the specs of different laptops, wanting an easier way to contact Charlotte. Charlotte was looking at the different desktops. The windows vista she was looking at caused her to blanch. Right, windows seven wasn't a thing until 2011.
Walking out with a new laptop that she had paid for, Penelope had gotten her a bracelet, and it wasn't a cheap one. It was the least she could do. Penelope dropped her off at the Apartment before giving her a hug of farewell. The hug that Charlotte gave her let her know how thankful the woman was. The expression in her pale face was relaxed, and oddly happy. Jason smiled at her as she entered and smiled back.
"Things happen for a reason," Jason informed her. "Take this time to enjoy a chance at normalcy."
"Semi-normalcy," Charlotte chuckled. "But, yeah, I think you're right."
"I have my moments."
Charlotte grinned at that.