Jadie

Disclaimer: I don't own any Numb3rs characters…(slightly depressed sigh)…I wish I did though…. but then again—who wouldn't?

WARNING: This story has violent content!(ok not so much in this chapter…but its coming!)

CHAPTER 4: Drawings—" Dear God, the things she drew…those drawings…"

"I can't believe you actually got anything out of the girl!" Megan half growled. Don gave her a look over his shoulder that clearly said 'Well, I told you so' as he walked in the entrance to the FBI building.

"Don't even look at me that way." Megan said sternly. Don smirked.

"As a matter of fact," she continued, "Don't look at me at all." Don chuckled a little as they got on the elevator. He hadn't much to laugh about lately. They had had another murder and everyone was trying unnaturally hard to be cheerful in the vain hope to dispel some of the anxiety going around the office. No one wanted to hear about another victim.

So Don did his best to annoy Megan, and maybe get a laugh or two before looking at the photos of the latest scene. He snapped his chewing gum loudly and grinned at an irritated Megan, looking at her from over the rim of his sunglasses. She shook her head at him.

"You're trying too hard, you know." Megan stated matter-of-factly. Don's grin faded.

"Can you blame me for trying?" He shrugged. "I'll admit…" Don sighed, "…This case is getting to me a little bit." A small 'ding' was issued from the elevator, signaling that they had reached their floor. They stepped out as the doors opened. The office was abuzz with activity. No one was idle.

"No I suppose I can't blame you," Megan sighed tiredly. "I just can't get my head around this killer." Megan gestured frustrated. She rubbed her forehead, an unconscious indicator to Don that the case was getting to her as well. Don waited for Megan to gather her thoughts.

"So," Megan picked up suddenly, "Where is our witness?"

"Well," Don started to say as his cell phone rang. Distracted, he looked to see who it was.

"She's in protective custody," Don frowned as he looked at the caller id of his cell. "And speak of the devil…" he muttered. Megan watched with concern as Don answered his cell phone and as his frown deepened.

"Ok, I'll be right there." Don hung up his phone.

"What's up?" Megan asked as she followed Don out of the office door.

"They say that the witness is having some kind of fit, freaking out or something." Don headed towards the elevator, Megan right on his heels. "Look," he said turning around towards Megan, "Stay here and look at the info on the new victim, I'm going to go find out what's going on." Megan started to protest, but Don was already getting into the elevator.

"Call me if you find out anything important!" He said as the doors closed.

"Sure, will do." Megan muttered to herself swinging back towards the conference room.

Don pulled up to the small terra-cotta building that served as a safe house that was just a few miles away from the FBI building. He parked his SUV in the driveway, and had barely gotten out of the vehicle when the agent in charge of the supervision of the witness came flying out of the front door.

"What's going on?" Don demanded as soon as he saw the agent come out.

"I don't know!" the younger man exclaimed, flustered. He was a new agent, just transferred and as green as could be. "She was doing just fine then she asked for paper and something to draw with, so we gave her some crayons and a pad of paper and she went into the back room. When we checked on her an hour later…" the young man paused, his eyes a little wild. He's about ready to panic…Don thought with some amazement.

"She drew these pictures…" the agent's voice cracked. "Dear God, the things she drew…those drawings…" the agent's face contorted.

"It's ok," Don soothed the younger agent, "Just show me where she is." The young agent—Agent Richards, Don thought, nodded and Don followed him into the building. Once inside, Richards pointed to the back bedroom where another slightly wild eyed agent stood guard with a rather worried, and somewhat perplexed expression on his face. Don opened the door and stepped in through the door. He immediately sucked in a huge breath; his eyes were assaulted with images straight from a nightmare.

Don wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't anything like what he saw.

Word from the author: OK that was a really short chapter I know. But it's another one of those in-between chapters. It's definitely going to pick up pace in the next chapter. All input is welcome. (I really like constructive criticism hint hint)