Dave walked brusquely off the elevator, not even waiting for the doors to fully open before departing. The forensic technician squinted at the now bustling scene. The older man held his left hand to the back of his head as he exited the elevator, but was quick to discard what looked like an ice pack in the first trash can that was in his path to the briefing room. There were two other people that he recognized as FBI agents that had been here for the previous case following close behind. Dexter's hands found their way to his pockets, this was curious.
He grabbed a file to look busy, and then slowly made his way toward the room where the agents had gone. It wasn't a hunt, so he didn't need to be quite as stealthy as he normally was. A sudden crash of noise made any effort to conceal his interest unnecessary. He closed the folder and held it tightly to his chest with his elbows to the sides, leaving enough room for the fast approaching Deb and Angel to pass through the door. Dexter raised an eyebrow. He shuddered to think of someone driving faster than his beloved sister. Agent Rossi was in a tizzy.
The other agents appeared to be trying to calm him. "Dave, it's not your fault" the blonde pleaded. "You know better than anyone that these things happen."
The scrawny kid with them was putting off a very timid body language as he coward within himself. "Emily will be okay." It looked like he was speaking more to himself than to anyone else. Agent Rossi was seated now, and he was beginning to look pale.
Everyone's attention went to Deb when she began to speak. She addressed the blonde. "Are we ready for a press conference?" The blonde looked a little shell shocked for a moment. "I think we should get on top of this, get your agent's picture out there." She walked over to a map on the wall. "I've already had roadblocks up here, here, and here for about two hours," she gestured to the approximate locations.
Dexter wasn't surprised by his sister's down to business demeanor, but the other woman sure seemed to be. "That's good," she said absently. "If nothing else, it will at least make Fullman waste time being evasive."
Robert Fullman, the name sounded familiar. Dexter had made his way into the briefing room after the others had gone out into the bullpen to deliver their profile and subsequent press conference. He had to get a look at the information on this would-be witness.
The BAU's briefing was just as useless as the one they had given seven months prior. The behavioral analysts didn't have any information that Dexter hadn't already figured out on his own. Fullman was most definitely their man, but there wasn't any information to track him down now that he had one of their own.
He had quickly found what he was looking for in the briefing room, and the BAU was currently discussing how Fullman was an academy wash-out. He pushed himself from the doorframe and proceeded to track down his sister.
"Deb," she was walking away from the media room where Agent Jareau was taking questions in an effort to brief the general public on the situation at hand.
"Not now, Dex." She waved him off as she passed.
He jogged backward to match her pace before spinning around to walk with her. "Can I check out this Robert Fullman's house?"
"Why?"
He frowned in faux thought and shook his head. "I've just got a feeling. You know?"
She let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, but make it quick. I need your final reports from yesterday written up. Those FBI agents are going to be so far up my ass until we find Prentiss."
He nodded curtly. "Will do, boss."
Dexter casually strode into the once-pleasant home that had become a busy crime scene. He had a familiar thought. Even if he didn't possess the necessary credentials, he probably still had the skills and charisma to get into the crime scene. They typically weren't even guarded all that well, and this one was no exception.
The rest of the FBI agents were on the scene, but they were too busy arguing amongst themselves to really notice a breach. "She was standing here," the overly muscular one was saying. "She must have seen something, figured out that Fullman was their man."
"Dave said that Fullman grabbed him from behind." The boss spoke with authority, but Dexter noted that he was really only stating a fact that they all knew.
"Dave should have never let his guard down. And you shouldn't have put him in the field." Though he spoke out of turn, the younger man wasn't wrong. Rossi had clearly been distracted the entire time he had been in Miami.
"Morgan, I made a judgment call." Hotchner crossed his arms, clearly a defensive posture. "Dave is an exemplary agent. I thought he could handle his emotions."
Dexter rolled his eyes and pushed onward as their argument got more heated. Working alone had its benefits. He just needed to find something to give him an edge. It was obvious at this point that Fullman had a secondary location, but where?
He found Fullman's makeshift home office, and began rifling through what looked to be important documents. Nothing stood out. The man's ability to keep paperwork organized was atrocious. Dexter stopped for a moment. That was strange, especially considering the neatness and clearly detail oriented decor of the rest of the house. "Maybe Prentiss was onto something," he muttered.
He looked around the room that he was in now. Fullman had created what was more or less a photo-journal of his entire life. Whether he had done it knowingly or not, Dexter was certain that it was going to be the man's undoing. He scanned every picture in the room, looking for any hint of privately owned property. By the time he had made it back to the living room where the agents were, he had three potential locations. He wouldn't be able to take the pictures for closer inspection, but he was taking in every little detail to fuel his upcoming research. A fourth and fifth location surfaced in the living room, and he was careful not to draw attention as he scanned them for clues. It was only a matter of time now and he had to stay ahead of the BAU. A few hours on his laptop, and he would have Agent Prentiss' location. He was sure of it.
She shook her head in an effort to clear her mind. "I don't get it," she spoke more so to the room than her capture. "None of the previous victims were drugged."
Fullman let half chuckle escape. "I've had it around for awhile. Wasn't sure if I wanted to incorporate it or not."
Emily covertly tested her restraints. She was lying flat on a metal table and had leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles.
"He uses plastic wrap and strips them completely. I'm not sure what he gets out of that." Fullman was staring off into space as he spoke. It was almost reverent.
"What do you get out of shooting unarmed men in the back of the head?" She asked roughly.
"Truth and justice," he replied conversationally.
She was almost alarmed at his seeming willingness to talk openly. "Why'd you take the woman?"
Fullman was thinking about her question. She could tell by the far away look he had donned yet again. "He was married once," Fullman supplied. "She was one step up from a whore."
Emily groaned internally. 'Who the hell is this guy talking about?' Her mind was numb and she could feel the beginnings of a headache above her right eye. "Who is he?" she asked simply.
"He is," Fullman turned his back to her and busied himself at the workbench on the side of the room. "He's not here yet." She looked down past her feet and recognized the doors there. They were in a shipping container.
Emily winced as Fullman turned around with a syringe in hand. "Okay. We can wait for him," she tried. "No need for that." Fullman only laughed in response, and she hated herself for succumbing to the darkness.
He'd been set in motion without even realizing it. He wasn't on a hunt, this killer had yet to pique his interest in all honesty. The connection between the "victims" had been easy for Dexter to sort out. They all had outstanding warrants for their arrests. This killer was doing the same thing that he does.
He had entertained a morbid curiosity to see what made this guy tick, wanting to know how different they would be from one another, but he had decided to play the whole thing with a certain amount of aloofness. He really didn't know why. He'd put it down to professional courtesy.
Now though, he was livid. He had let this killer, Fullman, go unchecked and the guy had taken a cop. It wasn't one of his cops, but it could have just as easily been. It could have been Debra. He felt a sense of betrayal that he didn't quite understand. He had to figure out where this guy went and quickly.
His phone went off and he released a heavy breath. He really didn't have time for anything else at the moment. "Yeah," he offered in a questioning tone.
"I think it's time we have a formal introduction," he pulled the phone away and checked the screen. It was a blocked number.
Waking up for the second time seemed to prove more difficult. She had heard voices at one point, but she wasn't sure how long ago that had been. Emily wasn't even sure how long she had been here. She thought of Dave and her team. "They're gonna find you," she taunted. She wasn't even sure if he was in the room.
"You see," he came into view from above and she felt nauseated as he leaned over the top of her head. "I really don't think they will. I've been planning this for a very long time."
Her lips were parched, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep. "I thought you were surprised to have FBI agents at your door?" she queried.
"I was," he admitted. "You're just complementary though. I've been planning our meeting." She closed her eyes tightly, trying to get a handle on what Fullman was saying. "He doesn't know it yet, but I'm quite interested in his hobby."
She tried to hold onto consciousness. She wanted to press her captor for more information. She pulled weakly against her restraints once more before drifting off again.
Dave was pissed. He was angry with himself, but he knew he was dangerously close to snapping on anyone in his proximity. Emily had practically begged him to get his head out of his ass, and he had rewarded her with his typical nonchalant attitude. He hadn't even verbally responded. She was right and he knew it. He should have told her right then what his issues were. He knew that he could trust her.
Hotch said something to him, but he didn't quite catch it. He spoke to J.J. now, "they found the woman that he'd abducted in the garage. It seems like she's going to be fine."
Morgan and Hotch had arrived from the crime scene with no new leads, and Morgan seemed almost as heated as Dave was. They were sat in the briefing room and the younger man was agitated to say the least. Dave had let his gaze linger a bit too long.
Morgan was out of his chair and leaning over the table as close to Dave's face as he could get. "You were supposed to have her back, man!"
"Morgan!" Hotch stood as well.
Morgan stopped his tirade, but Dave knew it wasn't over.
"Dave," Hotch spoke again. "There must be something that we're missing from the abduction site. Why did he break his victimology?" Dave didn't respond, but he knew that Hotch was onto something.
J.J. spoke next. "He had already broken his pattern with the prostitute."
"That's right," Reid said. "I don't think that should be our focus though." He turned to Dave. "He reacted to something at his house. One of you saw something that made him react." He sounded certain.
Dave mulled over the young man's words. He shook his head. "I don't know what it could have been."
"What about Emily?" Derek asked. "Where was she?"
"She was on the couch." Dave was searching his memory hard. He remembered the bastard going to fetch a glass of water. Dave had made some stupid joke. "She was mad at me." He nodded to himself, trying to work it out.
"Why was she mad at you?" Derek pressed.
Dave held up a finger. "That's not the important part." He got up and moved around the table to the whiteboard. "Where are the pictures from Fullman's house?" He found them on the table before anyone could answer. He shuffled through finding images of the living room. "There," he said triumphantly. He tossed the picture down on the table. "I noticed the photos on this shelf." The team shuffled forward.
"What about them?" Hotch asked from his spot by the door.
"It was something Lieutenant Morgan's brother said at the initial dumpsite." Dave went to the door now and called the woman over. "There was a photo of him sparring," Dave continued as Debra walked into the room.
"Fullman?" she asked.
"Yeah," Dave confirmed. "And I saw another one where he was at a bar with a bunch of guys wearing MMPD shirts."
Hotch spoke again, "he went on the offensive because he could tell that you were onto him."
"Yes," Dave agreed. He was annoyed. "Here's the kicker though. There was another photo of Fullman, looking very proud next to a brand new semi cab."
Hotch looked to Morgan. "Get Garcia on it. Get us a location." The younger man hopped into action. "Lieutenant, we need to mobilize immediately."
"Fuck yeah," she agreed. She spun on her heel and started yelling orders before she even made it out of the door.
Fullman had completely removed the guess work from Dexter's agenda. The man had told him exactly where he was holding agent Prentiss. Dexter toyed with the idea of calling Debra. Something was off. How would he explain why Fullman had called him? Fullman had seemed overly friendly on the phone, like they were old pals going out for a beer after work and scheduling where to meet up at. Even more pressing though, Dexter would need to figure out how to take care of Fullman and try to keep Prentiss alive at the same time.
Dexter began to wonder more intently why Fullman had called him. He knew. Fullman had all but said that he knew. "They shared a common interest." That's how he had put it. 'My interests are more refined,' Dexter chided internally.
The truck was precisely where Fullman said it would be. Dexter had parked at a gas station a couple of miles down a parallel road. He didn't want Fullman to see him coming. He checked the otherwise vacant parking lot before pulling on his gloves and concealing his scalpel. He reached for his phone. "I'm here," he said with irritation.
Fullman merely hung up, but Dexter heard the rear door open on the truck. He walked around the truck and half expected to be attacked. Fullman was standing over a table against the left side of the container, and Prentiss was strapped to a table in the center. Fullman strode to the opening and wordlessly offered Dexter a hand. Dexter ignored him and pulled himself up, watching as Fullman closed the doors and calmly walked back over to his table.
"What did you do to her?" Dexter ground out.
"Nothing you wouldn't have done." Dexter squinted at the man's back. He could take him now, but he needed to know more. He advanced slowly and studied Prentiss. He allowed his hand to hover just over her body as he made his way up the table. She looked relatively unscathed.
"I have to admit," Fullman spun around and leaned back on his elbows. "I am a fan of your work." Dexter fixed his gaze on the man for a moment before cautiously fumbling with the restraint on Prentiss' left wrist. "I thought you might be interested in her?"
Dexter stared him down again.
"Ah, yes. You seem to have some kind of code, right?" Fullman was attempting to toy with him.
Dexter wanted to lead this conversation. "You're other victims were all criminals. She's a cop?" he pointed out the obvious.
Fullman looked down briefly. "She was snooping in my home. Her and the old man both. I didn't really have a choice." He shrugged. "I'm sure she has some skeletons in her closet somewhere. All cops seem to be dirty these days."
Dexter cocked his head to the side. "Do you think that's why you failed at the academy?" He smirked. "You're too good?" He moved more brazenly now and freed Prentiss' left leg.
"No," Fullman replied quickly. "I don't know why they kicked me out. The real question is how do you operate so closely with law enforcement without anyone noticing?"
Dexter tested Fullman again by moving to the bottom of the table and working to free Prentiss' right leg. "So, you're a fan then?" he asked casually. Fullman smiled and nodded. "Then you should know that the cops are the good guys." He moved to the restraint on Prentiss' right arm.
"They really shouldn't have kicked me out," he began again. "After all, I'm the only one who's noticed what's been right in front of them this whole time." Dexter tensed immediately when he felt Fullman move behind him.
'I'm the Ace of Spades.' It was too late.
A/N: I'll be uploading the sixth and final chapter momentarily. I am tremendously sorry for the wait. As I said before, I know how it is when an author disappears. Now I know what it's like on the other end of that.