Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.
Authors Note:
Dear Reader(s),
This is the middle section of the trilogy that I have been working on. I apologise that I worked outwards in, as I had only made reference to this 'case' in the conclusion of Nearly a Dozen and the Beginning of Turning the Tables. It was only after completing the latter, I thought that this piece might actually be interesting to pen. However, what I hadn't realised was how difficult a challenge I had created for myself as the subject matter is incredibly dark, which of course is the main reason I have rated the piece accordingly. Please note that this humble author appreciates any and all comments as it assists in the writing process. I hope that you enjoy the story and that it doesn't give you goose bumps. Without stalling any further...
Goodnight My Angel
It's your typical beautiful, breezy, sunny summer day. The playground is jam packed with an array of happy children playing. Some of the parents content themselves on the sidelines, watching the older children as they play tag, while other parents help guild the youngsters through the mazes of moulded plastic slides, metal beams, and soft sand. Amongst the not so organised chaos of playtime, a little girl, with her long chestnut hair in a ponytail, sits on a swing. She swing races with her best friends to see who can reach the sky first, or see over top red painted railing— whichever comes first. Her excited giggles blend with the chorus of joyous screams of gotcha, the sudden shrieks of surprise, and the content laughs echoing in the wide, open space. Allowing her swing to slow, she waits for her moment to jump. She giggles loudly, as she jumps off the swing as far as she can; her friends jump from their swings as well. Trying to figure out who has jumped the farthest, they mark the packed sand with the toes of their shoes.
"I win!" one of them cries out triumphantly as the others carefully examine the marks in the sand.
"Ally, you totally cheated!" one of the others says in a tone filled with attitude. Her blond curly hair is tied up in a high ponytail, the curls bobbing in the opposite direction of her head. "I think I jumped further than you did." Sarcasm laces her addition and with her little hands on her hips, she sticks out her tongue. The last girl just beams mischievously as she pushes one of the others.
"Tag! You're IT!" she hollers at the top of her lungs, as she runs as fast as her little legs will carry her towards the jungle gym.
"Hey! Cassie, that's so not fair!" Ally yells, dashing after her.
Unbeknown to the jubilant children and their parents, lies in wait a predator, observing his prey from afar. Calculating his strike, just when the time is right; when they least expect it. For the time being, however, he will content himself with watching her.
My lucky little angel, he muses and his crooked smile widens in anticipation of when and how he will gain her trust. Letting out a throaty chuckle, he knows exactly how easy it will be to have her in his possession long before her mother even realises that she's gone. He even finds himself visualising how well his newest edition will look in the room he carefully picked just for her. After all, he invested a great deal of time watching her, so much in fact he feels as though he knows exactly what will please her.
Prior to arriving at the park this afternoon, he had spent the entire morning preparing the room for her. He had opened the casement window to rid the room of the staleness that had crept in after Lydia's passing. He had stripped and remade the bed with fresh linens and recounts how he felt observing his own perfection. Closing the door behind, he had been quick in making his way upstairs; picking up a light jacket from its place draped over the banister and drove to the park where he knew he would find his next doll. Being so close, yet so far makes him wonder if he is able to wait. Patience is a virtue, he reminds himself, recalling the pleasure that the fruits of his labour will reward him with.
From the moment the plane touched down in San Francisco, Gideon immediately senses the sharp change in the atmosphere amongst the team members, contributing to his own fears. The knot in his stomach continues to tighten as he attempts to clear his mind, clear his perspective by viewing this case like any other. Unfortunately, all methods employed to assist in the matter only seem to hinder the result— the knot now making him feel nauseous. Gain the proper perspective, he tells himself— but how can anyone on the team, or working on the case for that matter, have an unbiased vantage point? Especially, when the crime scene photographs themselves evoke such extreme emotions/reactions? Firstly, everyone privy to the case immediately feels a sense of disgust towards their un-sub, because what he does to his victims— kidnapping, sexually assaulting, torturing them mentally and finally murdering them is beyond the 'norms' behaviour; and secondly, they find themselves emphasising with the victims. They feel as though they can physically feel the pain and suffering inflicted upon the little girls.
The team, Gideon in particular, are well aware that they are in a race against time, despite the fact that the little girl had only been missing a few hours prior to their departure. Gideon's heart feels heavy in his ever-tightening chest and he wonders if they are indeed too late. He is well aware of the grim statistics surrounding child abductions. Despite his worst fears becoming a reality, the urge to have hope remains. Perhaps it is childish optimism, yet he has manages to have hope that somehow the statistics are wrong. Hope that they best the seemingly overwhelming odds that are stacked against them and hope that they find her before the inevitable.
Elle's heavy sigh seems to bring Gideon from his reverie, drawing his attention to her as she rests her head in her hand and rubs her temple while flipping through some papers in front of her. As much as he tries to hide his emotions, she is well aware of the tension in the room and the majority of that tension coming directly from him, as he sits quietly beside her. Looking up, she watches as Hotchner stands, straightens his well-cut suit jacket and moves towards one of the many boards set up in the room, literally plastered with information. Photographs of the areas where the bodies had been discovered as well as photographs of the victims both in the context of the crime scene and in the morgue. Notations made to connect the dates the kidnappings had been reported and how many days later the discovery occurred. Everyone in that room cringes at the fact that the un-sub is now overlapping his kidnappings with the disposal of bodies.
"The media have penned him the doll collector." Elle lets the papers fall from her slender fingers. "For the past four months a total of seven girls in or around the ages of five to nine have been abducted. Unless the media have an inside source, I don't quite understand how they have so easily connected these kidnapping/murders."
"The fact they haven't called us in sooner had me wondering that very fact as well." Hotchner turns to face the team.
"From where I sit, they should have called us in sooner." Morgan states, picks up his pen and starts writing something on the pad of paper that sits on the glossy table in front of him. "It's clear to me that they are unsure in terms of who they're searching for." He adds letting his pen drop onto the page.
"Probably would have, if we weren't off and about." Reid says more to himself. Gideon can see the façade he quickly assumes. Elle stands and goes over to one of the boards to take a closer look at some of the information.
"See anything interesting?" Gideon asks standing behind her. Shaking her head, she sighs as her stomach growls loudly. Embarrassed, she looks down for a moment.
"Sorry, I couldn't really eat lunch today." She rests her hand on her stomach and Gideon smiles.
"I think that it's probably a good idea to break. I highly doubt that sound work comes from empty stomachs." He wonders if food will settle or upset the knot that still commands his own unsettled stomach.
Packing up a few files, Hotchner and the team make sure to have the meat of the case with them and head out to the parking lot.
"What does everyone feel like?" Reid inquires from his place between Elle and Morgan from the very back seat.
"Detective Byrnes suggested a stake house not far from here." Morgan says as Hotchner turns onto the main street into the flow of traffic.
It's a quiet interlude as each is well aware of the difficulty in discussing the topic over dinner. Therefore, their exchanges run along more comfortable, more casual conversation.
"Out of curiosity, what do you do in you spare time?" Reid inquires. "That is if you ever have enough time to yourself." He adds, forking his salad.
"Whatever you do, don't mention Star Trek to Reid." Morgan whispers in Hotchner's ear, who responds by cocking a thick dark brow, as all eyes rest on him to begin.
"Haley and I enjoy any quiet time we have together." Hotchner says with a happy grin. "She's absolutely wonderful." He adds cutting into the roast beef he ordered.
"What about you Gideon? Somehow I picture you sitting in an overstuffed leather chair reading a good book, perhaps re-working another one of your many papers and listening to classical music. No wait!" Morgan punctuates his dramatic pause with his fork. "Show tunes." His pearly smile widens before he sips his drink. Gideon almost rolls his eyes in response to this gross over exaggeration.
"So what exactly are you suggesting?" he presses his lips in wait.
"Why? Am I close? You don't have to answer that. It's just how I see you." He replies with a grin.
"Actually Gideon, I can understand where Morgan is coming from." Elle interjects, knowing that she will be grilled next. "I always like to think that despite the fact that we do this for a living, we're as normal as the next person." She rests her fork on her plate and dabs at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
"Well Elle, what do you do in your spare time? Other than running." Hotchner tilts his head towards her. Sitting back slightly in thought she takes another sip of her drink.
"Let's see," she stalls a little long by placing the napkin back on her lap. "Recently, I've taken up yoga and I enjoy reading." She glares at Morgan. "What I really love is to have friends over for dinner. I have found cooking and good conversation a wonderful stress reliever. Does that make me boring?"
"No, I'm just surprised that you can cook." Morgan kicks her under the table. She ignore him and takes a sip of water.
"Reid, you've been rather quiet. Oh wait, let us guess." Hotchner's smile widens and he thinks for a moment. "I noticed that you seem to take a lot of work home, so I'm thinking that you prepare your case studies for your guest lectures?"
"Sometimes." He admits shyly.
"You probably don't watch much television, I highly doubt that would keep your mind busy." Gideon pushes his plate to the side and the waitress makes her way over to the table and begins collecting their dishes.
"May I bring you the desert menu? Or perhaps some tea or coffee?"
"Chamomile tea please and honey?" Reid says.
"Black coffee." Morgan says as all eyes fall on him. "What? It isn't that late."
"Earl grey tea." Gideon says and rests his hands on the tabletop.
"That sounds good." Elle nods towards the waitress.
"And you sir?" she directs her inquiry towards Hotchner.
"Regular tea please." He replies and she makes her way towards the kitchen. "This really is a nice place." He adds, resting his clasped hands on the table. He looks at his watch. "I suppose we ought to head back to the hotel. We can get back to the matter at hand in the morning."
"I didn't want to discuss it over dinner because the nature of the case is beyond emotional, however, I was going to suggest that we convene in one of our rooms and continue working. This is a missing girl. Lord knows what he's already done to her." Gideon physically shudders and the sentiment seems to make its way around the table.
"We've left them with a working profile." Reid begins.
"Right, and they seemed to have a list of suspects." Morgan adds.
"They don't have everything." Hotchner says.
"What do you mean?" Morgan turns his attention to Hotchner.
"Yes, we gave them a working profile, with which they have something to run their list of suspects against. I just have a feeling that their list will not have the one we're looking for." He finishes his tea just as the waitress returns with their check. "Thank you." He places the credit card in the sleeve and she leaves them once more. "I almost forgot J.J. is on her way and will be joining us later tomorrow. She had a few loose ends to tie up at Quantico and will be giving a press conference with the family's participation." He adds after signing the receipt, places the card back in its slot in his wallet and they stand.
He has taken great care in preparing their meals. Returning to the top of the narrow staircase, he is careful not to trip and fall with the final tray. Walking down the familiar hallway towards her door, he passes numerous others that all have brass nameplates with their names in neat script. Pausing outside her door, he can hear her quiet whimpers as he fumbles for the keys. Listening carefully, he immediately notices that the moment the key is placed into the lock, the whimpering ceases. Opening the door, he flips the nearby light switch, bathing the room in a soft glow from the various lamps strategically placed. The room itself is decorated similar to one from a Victorian dollhouse. The walls are papered in a pink silk tasteful floral pattern that is complimented by the cream floral bedding and the heavy drapes. The gentle swish of fabric catches his attention as the little form moves to face away from her captor in fear.
"I brought you something to eat sweetie." His voice is kind. "If you don't eat, you'll only starve to death and that's a very painful experience." He says as he sets the tray on the small writing table that sits in front of the drapes.
"I'm not hungry." She says softly, keeping her back to him. She feels the mattress protest his weight as he sits on the bed beside her, then his callused fingers as he runs them through her soft, long hair. Ignoring her response he tilts his head and leans in towards her.
"Once you're fed, we'll get you into the tub and wash your hair." Letting his lips graze her neck, he mummers into her little ear, inhaling the scent of the strawberry shampoo. She keeps herself in the fetal position, holding onto her thin legs for dear life, afraid that should she let go, he'd hurt her again. "Come on sweet heart, I made your favourite." He says getting up and quickly getting the tray, sits back down with it on his thighs and gently touches her arm. With her stomach growling, she is unable to refuse the food offered. Very slowly, she gathers her courage and sits up. "There, that's it." He coos gently as she reaches out towards the fork and begins eating. "I'll be back in a little while and we'll get you into the tub." He gets up and leaves her to eat alone, locking the door behind.
Finishing the meal set in front of her, she sighs, takes the tray, returns it to the desk and plunks herself on the floor beside the bed, sobbing into the nightgown. Feeling as though she has cried for eternity and that she has no more tears to shed, she sniffles and rubs at her swollen eyes before hearing the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching her door. Just as before, he is very deliberate in sliding the key into the lock and opening the door. In one arm, he carries a small terry cloth pink bathrobe.
"Come along my dear." His voice is kind despite the fact that she knows what will happen before her bath. Closing her eyes, she musters up the nerve to move towards him. She knows that he will, once again take her upstairs into his bedroom, then into the bathroom to bathe them afterwards. Somehow on this night she is happy that she has no more tears to shed.
Gideon has already thought for them to set up in his hotel room, he leads the team with the boxes of evidence and begins to set themselves up. He and Hotchner sit in the armchairs that reside in front of the large picture window. The drapes and sheers pulled back, revealing the nightscape of tall buildings and the glimmer of streetlights. Morgan plunks himself into the desk chair, sits back and swivels as he puts the files Reid hands him in order. Reid tosses Elle the decorative pillow to sit on, and she sits at Gideon's feet, while he sits with his long legs crossed underneath himself and leans against the bed.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Morgan inquires after they had spent a little over an hour going through the files.
"The DNA evidence is rather weak. I honestly don't think they would be able to build their case on that alone." Reid says after going through another file and adding it to the pile in front of Elle. "The fact that he baths the girls and puts them into fresh nightgowns gets rid of most trace evidence."
"Unless he gets sloppy." Morgan says under his breath. "Goes off the prescribed pattern of behaviour."
"I doubt that our presence will cause that. This un-sub is confident and has a reason why he does this." Hotchner sighs and closes the file in his hands.
"This un-sub is very similar to that guy who was murdering real estate agents." Morgan sighs. "Smart enough to rid the victim of incriminating evidence. If I'm the un-sub, I'm not intending to allow myself to be caught."
"Yes, but someone has to have seen something. Wouldn't the un-sub spend time studying the pattern of behaviour of his intended victims? In this case, he must watch the family." Elle rests her elbow on the pillow placed in her lap and rests her chin on the back of her hand, "and thereby extension would have knowledge of the best time to gain access." She adds. Morgan thinks for a moment.
"Correct, however, what you're suggesting takes time. Our un-sub seems to already know when and where he's going to nab his victim. I'd say he knows them." He adds with a sigh. Reid writes notes on a pad in a script Elle doesn't recognise and assumes it's a form of shorthand. Everyone writes their own notations on how they perceive the ideas that they bounce off each other. Hotchner then clears his throat and gets their attention.
"We all have had a very difficult day and I think we ought to get some rest. At this point, speculation is really doing very little in actually locating Cassandra." He shakes his head and stands. "We'll meet downstairs in the hotel restaurant for breakfast."
"That sounds like a plan, my man." Morgan states and follows Hotchner's cue. Reid yawns and collects his pens and notes before standing.
"See you guys tomorrow." He smiles and closes the door behind him. Elle knows that she has to move and like everyone else is in dire need of rest, but remains frozen, or perhaps glued to her spot. Gathering the files, she puts them back in order and hands them to Gideon, who places them on the table with the others. Holding out his hand, she takes it and he helps her to her feet.
"Thanks." She looks down, suddenly feeling a moment of silent awkwardness between them. Both know words are not needed. Gideon clears his throat in a nervous manner and Elle tosses the pillow back in its place on the bed.
"Is something troubling you?" his voice is smooth in her ears. She keeps her gaze down and nods.
"It's really nothing." She says as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I thought dinner went well; for the most part. Do you really read and listen to classical music? You never confirmed nor denied it." She says in a teasing tone, as she cocks her head and he watches as her long, wavy chestnut hair caresses the creamy skin of her exposed collar bone, much in the same manner as a wave gently laps upon the shore. Keeping his professional façade intact, he smiles with a low chuckle.
"Reading is one of the many things that I enjoy." He says and she enjoys the warmth of his smile, how it seems to reach out and caress her, something akin to the warmth of the sun's gentle morning rays. Returning his smile, the feeling of being out of place washes over her and she steps back, putting that professional amount of distance between them— yet at the same time, she is still able to feel the heat that radiates form his body as he walks her to the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow." She reaches out and runs her hand down his arm before making her way out the door. Closing and locking the door behind her, he presses his back against it in an attempt to regain the balance he feels he's lost. Still feeling her fingers gently caressing his arm, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stands on end and he walks towards the middle of the room. How could I have missed that? He wonders with a heavy sigh, he then sits on the foot of the bed, allowing himself to fall backwards.
Cassandra is led back down to her cell in the basement. Tucking her into bed, he pulls the blankets over her little body and kisses her forehead gently.
"Good night my angel." He says and turns out the lights as he leaves her room, locking the door behind. Making his way down the hallway, he pauses at Monique's door. Sliding the key into the lock, he opens the door and turns on the light. Stepping into the room, his eyes rest on the motionless form tucked neatly in bed in the same manner as Cassandra had just been.
"Oh my little angel." He whispers in a soft tone as though she is still alive. He is careful in scooping her still form and cradling her closely to his chest. Then makes his way up stairs and through the ill-lit rooms, out into the night.
Parking the car under a tree, it's branches offering enough shadow to conceal the license plate, he gathers her in his arms once more. Pulls a blanket from the backseat, wraps her up within it as though it's meant to keep her warm against the chill in the night air. Setting her tenderly under the tree, he kisses her little forehead.
"Good night sweet angel." He is quiet as if his words will wake her from her permanent sleep. He then tucks the fuzzy teddy bear within her arms. Standing, he seems satisfied with her placement and walks back to the awaiting car.
That morning the team arrive at the police station, which is a buzz with officers talking in hushed tones. Elle's expression falls as fear creeps through her bones.
"I'm so glad that you're here." Detective Byrnes says in a loud voice, meeting the team in the middle of sheer organised chaos. Morgan's expression changes from easy going, to serious in a matter of three point two seconds.
"Have you found Cassandra?" Elle inquires, her hand resting on her slender hip.
"No, as it stands she's still alive. However, Monique Roberts isn't so lucky. One of the shop owners found her body this morning. Apparently, she parks her car on the perimeter of the lot, and immediately noticed the body when she got out of her car." Byrnes sighs in frustration.
"Refresh my memory. How many days did she go missing prior to Cassandra's kidnapping?" Gideon motions for them to continue the discussion in the conference room.
"Nine." Reid says removing his messenger bag he sits in the seat beside Hotchner.
"So that gives us roughly seven to eight days before he kidnaps another girl." Gideon works out a few things in his mind.
"What you're saying is time has literally become the enemy?" Detective Byrnes states. Gideon nods, knowing statistically that with most kidnapping cases end tragically.
"You mentioned that you have a list of suspects?" Hotchner turns to face Byrnes.
"Yes, after you presented your profile we compiled an extensive list." He replies. "Sex offenders, those charged with possession of kiddie porn, and those who seem to fit your profile."
"Have you begun the process of questioning?" Morgan can feel the fear and tension saturate the room.
"Not as yet. We were hoping that once we held the press conference it would cut the list at the very least in half." He replies with hope. "I have created teams to canvas the areas where the bodies were found, local playgrounds, and nearby neighbourhoods. A combination of plain clothed undercover officers and uniformed officers. I don't want this guy knowing what we're up to." Byrnes says as they head towards the conference room. J.J. sits at the table going over her notes once more in preparation. Cassandra's family sit around the table with her waiting. Mrs. Clinton is dabbing at her eyes with tissue while Mr. Clinton keeps an arm around her shoulders, comforting her as it is obvious to them, unable to deal with his own fear and grief.
"How come no one is doing anything?" Mr. Clinton demands through clenched teeth. Gideon takes it upon himself to get the formal introductions rolling.
"Mr. Shawn Clinton. I'm Special Agent Jason Gideon." He extends his hand.
"Special Agent Gideon. My daughter is still missing. We're going into the second day and from what I've heard, they just found a little girl's body."
"I don't want to lie to you Mr. Clinton. They have found a body, but I can assure you that it isn't Cassandra's." he says making sure to put the family at ease.
"How can you be sure?" Mrs. Clinton cries through the tissue.
"The parents of the little girl confirmed that it was their daughter." Elle says, putting a comforting hand on Mrs. Clinton's shoulders.
"My little girl. My sweet, innocent little girl." She whispers. "It's all my fault." She cries and Shawn grabs her, letting her sob into his chest.
"Shhh, honey it's okay. It's not your fault." Shawn coos in her ear, knowing that it's of very little help.
"I can assure you that San Francisco police are doing everything in their power to find Cassandra." Byrnes states in as calm a tone as he can manage.
"Are you going to be all right to participate in the press conference?" J.J. asks the family. "You don't have to, if you feel that it's too upsetting." She adds, her usually sparkling baby blues, reflect a more serious darkness. Looking at each other, Mr. and Mrs. Clinton nod in unison that they will indeed partake.
"Even if it means saving someone else's little girl." Shawn collects himself.
"Then are you ready?" J.J. inquires as she gathers her papers and stands.
"We are." Shawn helps his wife to her feet and they head out to the wolves.
"At least J.J. has prepared them for what's out there." Morgan says as the team take their seats and begin to reopen the facts.
"Somehow I doubt the wolves care about the families this guy is effecting. I think to them the story is far more significant." Reid says, placing his hands on the tabletop.
"Keep your fingers crossed that this press conference does what we're all hoping for." Byrnes says in frustration.
"We are not here to frighten families into locking up their children. We are here to assist the San Francisco Police Department in apprehending their suspect. We know that he's a white male, probably in his late thirties to early forties." J.J. gives the media the information that they need, that they hope will assist them in capturing their un-sub.
"Why is the FBI only getting in involved now?" a journalist from the front calls out.
"At first, we thought we knew who we were looking for. However, once an arrest had been made and the kidnappings continued, we knew that we needed the assistance of the FBI. Besides, Gideon owes me a favour." Byrnes says causing a chorus of laughter. "Seriously, I know how good the BAU are and figured that they would be an asset in apprehending our suspect."
"Then why is the suspect still free?" another reporter hollers.
"Unlike some cases, child abductions are usually the act of one known to the victim. This case doesn't quite follow the norms." J.J. lets the detective continue to answer a few more questions.
"The family wishes to make a statement." J.J. finally butts in, causing a ripple of surprise to wash over the crowd. Mr. and Mrs. Clinton finally allow themselves to be seen.
"Thank you Agent Jareau. We just want to know that Cassandra is all right. There is a contact number that you can call. If it's money that you want, please call and let us know." Shawn says as his wife can only cry. "Cassandra, we love you very much. Stay strong baby. We will see you soon; mommy and daddy will do whatever it takes. We love you." He adds just before suddenly breaking down.
Sitting around the family's dinning room table, Gideon, Elle and Detective Byrnes have just finished speaking with Ally's parents to ensure them that they will not upset the little girl. Ally's mother leaves the room and goes to Ally's room to get her.
"Honey the policeman is here to ask you some questions about what you told us you saw in the park before Cassie went missing." She reaches out and Ally takes her hand.
"Mommy, may I please have something to drink first?" she asks politely as they make their way downstairs.
"Of course, what would you like?"
"Cherry juice please." She smiles brightly and they go to the fridge, her mother takes out the juice box and they go into the dinning room. They sit at the dinning table and her mother opens the straw and pokes it into the box before setting it in front of Ally.
"Hi Ally. I'm Special Agent Elle Greenaway. You can call me Elle. This is Special Agent Jason Gideon. We're helping Detective Byrnes find Cassandra."
"Cassie is my best friend in the whole entire world." Her smile brightens the darkness that surrounds them.
"Can you tell me what the man looked like?" Byrnes asks in a child friendly voice, not wanting to scare her.
"It's okay Ally. You're helping to find Cassie." Her mother whispers as her father places a comforting arm around her small shoulders. She takes her time in trying to put everything in her head together.
"He was tall like my dad, but he had hair coloured like the FBI agent." She says in a small voice.
"Which one?" her mother asks.
"The one on TV that held the press conference." She answers, while the detective writes down what she says.
"Blonde?" she nods and takes her time before speaking again.
"He was wearing dark blue pants with an open striped shirt." She takes a sip from the boxed juice.
"Is there anything else that you can remember about the man in the park?" Elle prompts her. Ally looks up again in thought.
"Well I've seen him there several times before. He was always kind of hidden behind the bushes, you know?" she tilts her head for a moment. "Oh and he had a scar that went diagonally across his left cheek." She adds looking down at her hands.
"Thank you so much for your help Ally." Gideon says in a warm tone with a smile that Ally quickly returns.
"May I go now?" she inquires. Her mother nods and she springs from the seat and heads back upstairs to her bedroom.
"Thank you so much for letting us speak with Ally. I really think that we'll get a good composite from her description." Detective Byrnes closes his black notebook and they are walked to the front door. "If Ally remembers anything, please don't hesitate to give us a call." He adds as they get into the car and drive back to the station.
"It's too late." Elle mummers under her breath.
"Never say that. We have to at least try." Gideon shakes his head.