School of Performing Arts
Chattanooga, TN
Agent Aaron Hotchner had often been criticized for always wearing a suit. On this particular occasion, even he had to admit he was over-dressed. High school students, friends and parents, dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts, were standing around the lobby of the auditorium, waiting for the doors to open. The rest of the team wondered around the lobby, backstage and parking lot of the theatre, less noticeably in less formal clothing. If Sarah Grace attempted to attend the show, her entrance would be seen by the F.B.I. Hotchner looked across the lobby at Jason Gideon, who shook his head -- no sign of her yet.
Derek Morgan walked to the fire door entrance for the umpteenth time, looking into the actor's parking lot. Confidence no new cars had arrived, he turned to walk through the backstage area again.
Residence of Ann-Elise Miller
Ann-Elise Miller felt like she was walking on a cloud when she arrived home. Although she was dubious about her response if Reid ever asked for her help again, she realized that she had made a difference.
She dropped her purse onto the table by the door and looked around for signs that Karen had been up and about. What she found was an extremely clean dining room – the table was cleared and dusted and the carpet had been vacuumed. As she went from room to room she found the same thing. Ann-Elise quietly laughed.
"This is a good sign." Convinced that Karen was truly getting better, she entered the kitchen and started to gather the ingredients to make rosemary bread.
School of Performing Arts
Chattanooga, TN
Elle Greenaway watched from the corner of the auditorium as people started walking in and finding their seats. Picture in hand, she scrutinized every face.
Morgan met up with Reid just outside of the dressing rooms.
"Anything yet?"
"No, I checked the outside door again. I wish this lady would just hurry up and show her face!" Reid, looking behind Morgan, made a discreet motion for Morgan to look back down the hall.
"Morgan, I think you just got your wish." Both agents started to walk towards Sarah Parr.
Residence of Ann-Elise Miller
The top of the counter looked like it had been snowing. In the middle of a cloud of flour Ann-Elise was stirring a very messy concoction of flour, water and herbs in a large bowl. She spooned the white blob out onto the counter top but stopped as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Karen? How are you feeling?"
"Good, it's been a good day." Karen smiled widely as she walked past Ann-Elise to get to the refrigerator. She opened the door and picked up a bottle of water. For the first time in weeks Karen was dressed in something other than her pajamas. In fact, she looked very nice.
"That is great. It's about time you had a good day. Hey, thanks for cleaning the house. You didn't have to do that."
"It was something I needed to do. No problem."
"Well, thank you." Ann-Elise looked around at the now messy kitchen and felt a little guilty. "Want to help make some bread?" Ann-Elise used her hands to gather the dough and started to knead it, adding flour to prevent the dough from sticking to the counter top. Karen stared at her, drinking the water. She shook her head.
"It's therapeutic, I swear. You should try it." Again Karen just shook her head. "Well, when I'm done with this I have to let it rise for an hour. Why don't you punch it down after that?"
"I won't be around."
"Going out?" Karen put her water bottle down and walked out of the kitchen. Ann-Elise shrugged and kept kneading the dough. "If you change your mind, let me know."
Coming from the doorway Ann-Elise heard a metallic click and immediately froze. She knew that sound. Slowly she turned around. Karen stood five feet away, holding Ann-Elise's gun, pointing straight at her. "Karen, what are doing? Put the gun down." She spoke slowly, her voice low and calm. "Karen, whatever it is, we can deal with it, I . . ." She got no further. Karen pulled the trigger. The impact pushed Ann-Elise back. As she fell her head made contact with the corner of the counter top. She hit the floor and didn't move.
Karen took a moment to look at Ann-Elise and then turned the gun towards herself.
A neighbor, walking her dog, heard two pops from inside the house. She immediately ran to her house and called the police.
School of Performing Arts
Chattanooga, TN
Aaron Hotchner stood in the scene shop of the school's auditorium, proudly surveying the action around him. The team had been successful – they had caught the unsub before anyone else had been hurt. From his vantage point he could see into the stage where Gideon and Elle were standing, talking to the parents and students involved in the now-cancelled performance. To his right he saw Morgan and Reid escorting Sarah Parr, or Sarah-Ann Grace, towards the waiting police car. When his cell phone began ringing, he pulled the phone from his pocket and answered it without even looking at the it.
"Hotchner." He listened, but no one answered at first. "This is Agent Hotchner." He heard a quiet, shaky voice.
"Is Reid near you?"
"Garcia? Garcia, what is wrong?" Almost subconsciously, Hotchner walked further into the scene shop, away from Reid's position outside.
"I don't want . . . he doesn't need to know. . . ."
"Know what, Garcia?"
"There's a program, I use, to monitor 911 calls. If any names or addresses, connected to our cases, come up. There were shots fired. . . . at Ann-Elise's house." Hotchner froze, his mind racing.
"Garcia, is she alright? Is she hurt?"
"I don't know . . . . one woman was pronounced at the scene, the other is on the way to the hospital."
"Alright, Penelope, see what else you can find out. I'll try to keep Reid busy until we find out more information. Call me immediately when you find out how she is." Hotchner ended the call and looked outside at his youngest agent. Suddenly he didn't feel so successful.