Part Four:
Despite having a trying case nagging him, the days quickly melding into weeks, Derek finally finds a new place. He feels horrible for putting Penelope out for as long as he has and feels that breaking the news over breakfast is probably the best way to go. After putting together a quick bite, Derek sits across from her and tries not to burry his head in the plate in front of him.
"Penelope, I really appreciate you letting me stay with you over the past few weeks." He says being careful to use her name. "I'm happy to share with you, that I have a new place and will be moving in once they have finished painting."
"That was fast." She replies, slowly looking over the newspaper she had carefully been hiding behind. She had been expecting the news, knew that it was on its way. She knew that he wouldn't remain her roommate forever, yet at the same time wishing that to be the case.
"I didn't want to impose on you more than I already have." He replies before finishing his coffee. "I should be out of your hair by the end of this week."
"Really?" she arches a brow in response. "That's in three days." She adds in an attempt to not sound too dejected, she fakes a toothy smile. Glancing at her watch she nearly jumps from her seat. "Oh my! We had better get a move on, or we'll be late." She grabs the plates and rinses them quickly in the sink.
"I'll get those when we get home." He says helping her with her jacket.
"Nothing?" Gideon inquires holding onto the doorframe, as he leans into Hotchner's office. Hotchner lifts his head from the mountain of papers.
"No." he exhales loudly. "I don't think he knows that the police are looking for him. Garcia has found that a developing company by the name of Triumph won the bid to rebuild on the site where Morgan's condominium once stood. She thought it odd at best that they had long placed a bid, and happens to be considered this time around. Perhaps there is far more to that than the police department had thought."
"Wasn't the company that had originally built on the land called Dramatic? Or Vision Developing?"
"Vision Developing."
"Well let's just say that Triumph hired black leather jacket." Hotchner nods, comprehending his direction, pulling out a sheet of paper from one of the files.
"Oliver Hanson." He says as he jots down an address and holds the page towards Gideon, who stares at it. "From where you're going with this, perhaps it would help to start with him. He may know something that will assist us in locating black leather jacket." Gideon steps forwards and snatches the slip. "Oh and take Reid with you."
"Reid?"
"He needs to clock some observation time with you. You tend to work outside the box and I think that will do him some good."
"Aaron, are you sure we should be doing this. Local authorities don't want our help."
"Someone made sure that Derek's condo was gutted. Like it or not Jason, we're involved. I don't care what they think." His tone not one Gideon's accustomed to, nor one he can easily ignore. "Besides, you always have a way of not being memorable."
"Really?" Gideon replies, arching a brow before heading towards Reid's desk to collect him. Hotchner watches from the landing as the young profiler gathers his bag and quickly matches Gideon's long stride towards the elevators.
The corporate world has never been a desirable destination for Spencer Reid; and in response to the bombardment of the sights and smells, he is unable to cease his mind from reeling. Gideon quickly takes the lead and Reid follows, stopping in the reception area. Behind the grand cherry wood, curvy desk sits a young lady. She appears to be busy typing away at record speed and it would appear to the untrained eye, talking to herself; only she wears a thin wire, which is hooked over one ear. Completing the call, she turns her attention to the men standing in front of her.
"Good day gentlemen, how may I assist you?" her inquiry pleasant.
"I'm special agent Jason Gideon, this is doctor Spencer Reid. We're here to speak with Mr. Oliver Hanson."
"Do you have an appointment?" he knew that would be her response and that it usually takes more than that to get their attention.
"No, however, it's an urgent matter." He adds, resting his arms on the high counter-like desk. She waves her hand indicating that they wait for a moment.
"Mr. Hanson, a Jason Gideon and Spencer Reid are here to see you." Leaving out the fact that they are FBI agents, intentionally Gideon is sure. "Yes sir." She writes a few things on a pad of paper and pushes it aside. Turning back towards them, she smiles slightly. "Mr. Hanson will see you." She says lifting her eyes to meet Gideon's iron gaze and unlike most people, refuses to flinch.
"Jason Gideon?"
"Oliver Hanson." He extends his hand in greeting.
"It's been a while." Gideon merely smirks as Hanson leads the federal agents into his office-- the office of a very successful commercial real estate developer.
With their preliminary question period under their belts, Gideon and Reid exit the massive downtown building and are quick to make it back to the office with the hope that the information gathered from their fishing trip will assist them in tracking down their un-sub.
"This has become a very violent developers war." Gideon states simply as he and Reid take their seats. Hotchner looks up from his notes and lets his pen fall on the table, eyebrow arched.
"I'd say that this is a little beyond that don't you think?" he replies as J.J. enters the room and immediately senses the tension it contains.
"I just got off the phone with Virginia PD. While they know how effective the profiles we share with them have been in the past, they still don't wish to meet with us." She looks down for a moment.
"That's fine. At this point, we really don't have a complete profile. Perhaps its better to say that at this time what we do have, will be of very little assistance." Gideon sighs loudly, as he rests his elbows on the arms of the chair and clasps his hands under his chin. "There is something that we're still missing. None of this makes absolute sense." He utters under his breath as Derek enters, Penelope on his heels.
"Hanson is next." He exclaims, nearly out of breath.
"Where did you get that?" Hotchner's question a reflection of the faces in the room.
"It fits. Attempt to throw us off, or perhaps finishing his list. Either way, we need to get there. After I got off the phone with Hotch, Garcia happened to find out."
"That a Walter Manson, Hanson's old business partner, quit the company and started his own. Ever since, the two have been in competition for prime real estate in well over twenty states." She fills in the gap, cutting Derek off mid thought.
"That's good work. Do you have an address?" Hotchner almost barks, knowing that time is once again the enemy.
"Of course." She replies beaming with pride, holding the piece of paper as though it were the winning lottery ticket.
"I'll call Detective McKinney and hopefully they will nab our un-sub." Hotchner rises and nearly flies out of the room, grabbing the paper from Garcia's hand.
"Wow! There goes one determined man." She states as Gideon follows suit, nearly jogging to catch up.
"So where does this leave us exactly?" Reid vocalises his thought as they gather their files and head to their desks in wait of further instructions.
"Depends how series McKinney is in catching this guy." Morgan replies as they wait for their instructions.
By the time they had received the information, the day has long since become night. Black leather jacket drives towards his next target, checking the time on the digital clock. He had promised Hope that he would be home before midnight. At least he had calculated that he would be. Cutting the engine, he sinks back in his seat watching the police cruisers as they patrol the affluent neighbourhood. Not my kind of people, he thinks to himself, popping the trunk, he grabs his case and quickly uses the moment to creep up the path towards the grand home. The soft glow of the lights within the home can be seen from the street, an indication that someone is home, he checks a side door and it opens easily enough. It is obvious to him that the family is still up as the alarm has yet to be engaged, which makes his 'job' less difficult.
However, on the other hand, not knowing where the chess pieces lay makes for a more interesting challenge. Finding a place to hide, black leather jacket waits for his moment to strike.
"Sari, its time for bed." He hears the singsong voice of a woman.
"But I'm not tired." A little voice protests, ever so slightly pulling on his heartstrings.
"It's already well past your bedtime." A male voice, black leather jacket is sure belongs to his victim adds, and he continues to listen to the happy family.
Once the home is settled, bathed in darkness as the light under the door to his hiding place is turned off; black leather jacket emerges and heads upstairs. Passing the little girls bedroom, he checks to be sure that the door is closed, and stops for a moment in relief or is it comfort that she will not hear what is to occur. Allowing the thoughts to dissipate, he crosses the threshold into the grand master bedroom. Like an actor going through his nightly ritual before entering centre stage, or an athlete mentally going over his routine, black leather jacket stands at the foot of the king-sized sleigh bed watching as the couple sleep. Trying not to think of the sleeping girl a few doors down, he sets about preparing to cross another name from his list.
Oliver Hanson is stirred from sleep by a cutting sensation running down his arm. Once roused, he runs his fingers over his arm and feels the sticky, thick wetness. His eyes quickly adjust to his surroundings, they rest upon the dark shadow of a man hovered over his wife, the glimmer of the blade reflecting the moons soft glow. The shadow holds one finger over his lips as an indication that if Oliver gives him a reason, his wife will die. Lips part, he nods and carefully untangles himself from the sheets. Once outside the room, black leather jacket forces Oliver down into the basement.
"If you utter one word, you will have sealed their fate." His voice is gruff in Oliver's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He can only manage a gesture as an indication of his comprehension. "Sit." The man he suddenly recognises commands and again Oliver complies, sitting on the cold cement floor. Black leather jacket isn't sure why this job seems different from the rest. Perhaps because it will be his last and he will have time enough to relax and enjoy time with his wife, he is quick in putting those thoughts out of his head, returning to the man sitting on the floor in front of him, fear etched not only on his face, but resonating from his body as well.
Binding Oliver's ankles and wrists so that he cannot escape, black leather jacket opens his briefcase and Oliver's eyes nearly bug out of his skull.
"You paid me to torch those buildings so that your company could build on the newly available land. Getting rid of you covers my ass." He places a piece of leather between his victim's teeth, a method used to muffle his screams of pain and agony from being heard by the sleeping family upstairs. Returning his attention to Oliver, he begins by testing the waters. The response from Oliver to him is positive as he moans and groans in protest to the injuries being inflicted upon his body. Running the knife along the lean body only satisfies black leather jacket for a short while. Growing bored of the light torture routine, black leather jacket digs for his favourite knife, and pulls out the case in which his fountain pen resides. Forgetting about being kind, the last thing Oliver will remember is the glimmer of the knife, he passes out; while with the precision of a surgeon, black leather jacket jabs the knife into the right external carotid artery. The blood gushes out. With the same ease, he quickly submerges the pen nib, just enough to extract the final bit of life that slowly flows through the now slumped, limp body as the heart rate begins the process of ceasing.
Turning away from his masterpiece, black leather jacket reassembles the now filled fountain pen. Reaching inside his breast pocket for the list, his grin widens ever so slightly as the chuckle in his throat escapes and he crosses the last name off his list. Folding up the list, he collects his tools of death and makes his way up the narrow staircase. Standing at the door, listening for signs of life and satisfied that he will escape, he opens the door and creeps through the unfamiliar home. Standing in the kitchen, a few feet from the door, just a few feet in the clear, black leather jacket suddenly hears the commotion outside the home, can see the bright red/white/blue flashing lights outside. Cursing under his breath, he dashes for the inside garage door in hopes that he can escape the clutches of the law.
Certain that their un-sub is inside the home, Hotchner and Morgan sprint up the drive and Morgan kicks the door in, the loud thud accompanied by the sound of wood as it splits. With guns drawn, they make their way through the home with the local police department on their heels. As Gideon, Elle, and Reid bring up the rear, he stops.
"Gideon, are you okay?" Reid inquires, pointing his gun towards the floor. Giving Reid the 'I'm fine' expression, they continue.
"We need an ambulance." They can hear Hotchner holler from the basement. An officer's voice can be heard on the two-way communication and the paramedics enter the scene.
"Where is he?" Elle cannot help but ask as they holster their guns. "He shouldn't be able to get away this quickly." She adds and pushes past Reid towards the door that has been left open a crack. Carefully tapping it, so that it opens on it's own, she fumbles for a light switch. Illuminating the triple garage, she lets her eyes wander over the space. A black Escalade sits undisturbed; in fact, everything about the space is untouched. Except, of course, for the side door, which like the garage door; has been left open enough to indicate that someone was unable to or didn't care to close it. Continuing her hunch, Elle follows suit, expecting to apprehend their un-sub, only to find an array of chaos. Being drawn from their homes by the bright flashing red/white/blue lights, civilians join the police, fire fighters and paramedics already assembled in front of the home on the usually quiet street.
With a sickening knot tightening in his stomach, Gideon and Reid continue upstairs with the hopes that the rest of the family are safe. He recalls seeing the family photographs on Oliver's desk in his office. Approaching the closed door, Gideon places his gun back in his holster and gestures for Reid to continue with the rest of the team. Not knowing if their un-sub is hiding behind the door, he prepares himself before opening the door. The pale moonlight casts a soft glow in the large bedroom. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he quickly checks behind the door, and throws open the closet doors to be sure that no one is hiding amongst the clothing. Breathing a sigh of relief that he hasn't frightened the sleeping child, he approaches the bed and carefully brings the comforter up towards her delicate chin.
Closing the door behind him, he meets his team in the hallway with Mrs. Hanson, a fluffy terrycloth robe tied around her slender waist, her hair a bit dishevelled, but happy to know that her daughter is safe. Gideon frowns as he realises that she hasn't been told about her husband.
"Mrs. Hanson, would you come with us please?" Gideon gestures for Elle to follow them downstairs.
"Hannah." She hardly finds her voice, as she is assisted downstairs with rubbery legs, clutching the solid banister for support.
"You may want to sit down." He adds and she appears to sink into the soft cushions of the white overstuffed sofa. Reid dashes off towards the kitchen and they can hear the running of water, which he returns with a glass and she receives it with shaky hands.
"Where is Oliver?" her question small as the tears well up in her nearly crystal blue eyes.
"They took him to the hospital. Agent Aaron Hotchner will take you to meet him. We don't know the extent of his injuries."
"What about Sari?"
"Don't worry Hannah, Elle and I will stay with her. If she wakes, we'll explain that you will be back soon." His smile warm and inviting, which Hannah surmises comes from a very good heart. Her whole body quivers as she nods her understanding. Not concerned that she is in her pyjamas, Hannah follows Hotchner and Reid out towards the chaos and they take her to the hospital.
"We can't have all these people here if Sari awakes. Morgan, will you take three forensic team members up to the bedroom. I think its best that we work as quietly as we can manage." Morgan turns on his heel and grabs the team and they head upstairs. "I'm going to see what they've found in the basement." He dashes off down the narrow, wooden staircase into what can only be described as the pits of hell, and wonders if it's even possible for Oliver to have any life left in him for them to revive. Shaking his head, he plants himself in the middle of the forensic team and criminal photographer and soaks up his surroundings.
"Our guys have combed the neighbourhood and have turned up nothing." An office says as he enters the basement. Gideon turns to face him.
"You'll get him. Mark my words, we will get him."
Epilogue
"Detective McKinney is requesting our assistance with a profile." J.J. enters Hotchner's office. He waves her in and she has a seat in one of the vacant chairs in front of him.
"We have what they need. I'll send Gideon and Reid to present and then I suppose they will go from there." He replies, signing the bottom of a document.
"Oliver Hanson is going to be okay I hope." She rises.
"He'll live. I can hardly imagine what it must be like to go through the ordeal he has."
"The human body is fairly resilient, isn't it?" she pauses for a moment. "It's the human mind that I worry about." His gaze penetrating as her words betray something personal. His smile is warm and she returns it with one of her own before heading back to her office.
Gideon and Reid finish presenting the profile of Tony Simpson, more commonly known to them as black leather jacket, and enter Quantico half expecting to hear the call for further assistance. Gideon stops to speak with Hotchner as Reid heads towards the makeshift break room, finding Morgan pouring water over the coffee crystals. Following suit, Reid gets his mug, and covers the crystals with the hot liquid and gestures for the sugar.
"Not every case goes the way we want it to." Morgan sighs, handing Reid the sugar for his coffee.
"I know. It's just that I feel like we could or should have done more."
"More? Trust me, if there had been any more we could have done, we would have. Gideon will not let this rest; he has this tendency to allow things to burn a hole into his memory. If anything resembling this case crops up anywhere, he will be the first one on that plane." Morgan replies as they make their way back to their desks in wait of their newest assignment.
"You haven't heard how Oliver Hanson is have you?" Elle inquires, as she puts her paper coffee cup on her desk.
"He will make it." Morgan's eyes reveal a gentle softness she cannot recall ever being privy to before.
"Good to hear. Sari is a sweet little girl, I'd hate to see her grow up without a father." She lets her smile widen as they all turn their attention to J.J., who arrives bearing the usual gift of a new case.
"Conference room in five." Her expression one of horror and they find out why upon opening the files handed to them.
The End?