Okay, so this one's a whopper. Shout out to Nicole for beta-ing like a beauty. Happy reading! (And please don't kill me)
Killian watched her walk through the clumps of people, his mind still racing to catch up with her harsh words. He wondered if he'd done anything particularly heinous and came up blank; he'd done nothing thus far to aggravate her, so far as he knew.
But she was definitely ignoring him. That much was blatantly obvious.
On the plane she'd refused to meet his eye for extended moments and outright ignored him for the majority of their short trip. From his spot next to the table, he could see as she gravitated towards the men playing darts and though he was irritated with her behaviour towards him, smirked when she challenged them to a game. They grinned and agreed, arrogance rolling off them.
They had no idea what they'd just agreed to.
Killian turned back to the group, smiling when Mary Margaret spotted him and moved around the table to greet him. He embraced the petite woman with a fond smile; it had been a while since he'd been in her company.
"Killian," she greeted, stepping back and holding his shoulders so she could appraise him. He was wearing a dark button up shirt, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and denim jeans.
"How's life with the bossman?" he replied.
Mary Margaret dropped her hands and tried (and failed) to subdue a bashful grin, "Oh, you know. It's alright – I guess," she said sarcastically, shrugging. Another familiar face popped up behind her and Killian felt his mood brighten at seeing the Colgate-ad-worthy smile directed his way.
Ruby put a hand on Mary Margaret's shoulder so she could shift past and stand before the agent herself. The petite pixie-haired woman gave Killian a brief smile before returning to sit by her husband so he could catch up with the other woman.
He pointed an accusing finger at Ruby as she beamed up at him, "I need to talk to you!"
Her decisively arched eyebrows pulled together in a frown, confusion on her face as she considered what she may have done to merit the wrath of Killian. He flicked her on the nose, a concise and sharp movement that made her squeak in response.
"Don't call me Killy," he warned, explaining his prior meaning with the statement.
She grinned again and patted him on the shoulder, "Oh sweetie, you actually think you have control over what I do. That's cute."
He glowered half-heartedly at her and she moved to stand beside him, putting her arm through the crook of his and guiding them both towards a seat at the already crowded table. Their teammates and guests were already involved in conversation so Killian turned to Ruby.
"Is Emma pissed off at me?" he asked – with Ruby there was no need for preamble. If something was going down, she knew about it. And if she knew about it, her ability to keep it to herself was limited if not completely non-existent.
Her red lips pursed and she strained her neck to locate the blonde.
"Why's that?" she asked, still searching for Emma in the crowded bar.
"Because she's shutting me out more than usual."
Ruby gave him an incredulous look, "Isn't that what she does anyway?" The brunette continued looking around and not willing to watch her struggle any longer, Killian pointed towards the dartboard where said blonde was now annihilating some very shocked male patrons. Ruby spotted her and slunk back down into her seat, shrugging as she took a sip of her pink drink.
"Well, yes," he replied, "but… at the risk of sounding like a bloody adolescent girl, she's being… weird." He muttered the final word with a shrug and took a sip of Ruby's drink.
"You definitely sound like an adolescent girl."
"Shut up."
"Duly taken into consideration. Besides, if Emma's pissed off at you, she'll let you know soon enough what it's about; girl's terrible at keeping her grievances to herself for too long," Ruby said, glancing at the subject of their conversation.
"I know that – I just… forget it," he said, running a hand through his dark hair and shrugging off the need to further the conversation. He found himself looking over Phillip's shoulder at Emma who was making the victory rounds, taking the money from her opponents with what appeared to be a genuine smile. She tucked the notes into her back jean pocket and he shook his head in bemusement.
One of the men she'd beaten came up beside her and began talking to her, his eyes briefly flitting down past her face to ogle her form. Unfortunately, Emma had been looking over his shoulder to check the football score and didn't notice the depraved mannerism.
Killian's fists clenched and he narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the guy who continued talking to her. She was still smiling and even laughed at something he said.
The agent abruptly found himself envying the man; he could make her laugh and smile without worrying about a backlash. It wasn't fair – and he hated himself for thinking it, but it was the truth. She was always so guarded around Killian and while the man wasn't exactly forcing her to open up about her life, his partner was acting carefree and he so wished she would be like that with him.
Wait – what? Stop being a bloody wuss. Go punch a wall or something; grow some balls, the more primitive part of him muttered in irritation.
He stood up from the table and turned to Ruby, "I'm going to dance," he said unthinkingly, ignoring her raised eyebrows as he turned around and made his way through the bar towards the small dance-floor where a mass of people were writhing unceremoniously together.
He shoved himself into the mini-mosh pit, manoeuvring himself into the center so he could forget about the treacherous thoughts invading his mind. And so he couldn't see her.
Killian let himself fall into the rhythm of the music and was soon dancing alongside two other women. Their faces were shaded by the dim lighting of the establishment but from what he could see they were attractive. In fact, they were incredibly attractive – though he would admit it had something to do with their artfully applied make-up.
He didn't care though, smirking when they pushed up against him. His hips moved in synch with the slighter framed one and the other left to accost another dancer, leaving him alone with the one still pushing against him. She turned around and he put a hand on her hip, watching her face with satisfaction at the effect he had.
For some strange reason, as he moved he could feel eyes on him. Smile still in place, he expected to look up and find the team shaking their heads at him but when he raised his gaze from the woman in front of him, they were all still engrossed in conversation.
He shrugged and tuned back into the woman now trying to regain his attention.
She had dark brown eyes rimmed by heavily mascara-coated lashes, her lips painted a warm red hue. From what he could tell she had an olive complexion and coal-black hair. She'd put in the effort to curl it – because it definitely wasn't natural.
He'd never really liked it when women drastically changed their appearance to seem more desirable. He liked the more natural look, like Emma, and with this thought in mind he found himself strangely uncomfortable in the unnamed woman's presence. No longer enjoying himself, he delicately extracted himself from the woman dancing with him. She gave him a confused look to which he smiled and continued moving through the crowd.
The woman shrugged indifferently and immediately began searching for another playmate.
Killian walked towards the group, and was surprised to see a blonde head among their ranks. He purposefully avoided standing beside her, his simmering anger at her own behaviour affecting his actions. He moved around to sit beside Ruby again.
As he sat down Emma looked up and met his eyes and he saw something funny there, something he couldn't place but made his lips quirk up gently despite his best efforts. The image of her talking to the man by the dartboard flashed in his mind's eye and the small smile of amusement quickly evaporated, replaced by another emotion he didn't want to label.
"Having fun?" Phillip asked, snapping Killian to attention and drawing his eyes from the blonde.
The psychology expert had a knowing smirk on his face and so did the rest of their team – so they had been watching him.
"Oh, you bet," he replied with a wink, to which the rest of the team laughed. Except Emma, who looked away as if trying to see the TV – but he knew she'd just been watching it and didn't need the update, just a distraction. For some reason, he felt something inside snap at her ignorance of him.
"What about you, Swan? Enjoying yourself?" he asked, the edge in his tone so subtle he knew only she would be able to pick up on it. And she did as she met his eyes, scrutinizing him heavily in the dark setting.
"Definitely," she answered curtly, smiling in a way that looked more to him like she was baring her teeth.
Their team just chuckled and shook their heads, clearly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension that existed between the two partners. Though Killian could swear he saw Ruby's eyes flicker between them uncertainly – she was the only one who would have picked up on such internal affairs.
"Who's winning?" Mary Margaret asked, turning to look at the TV.
Emma had answered her before she'd laid eyes on it though, "Baltimore."
"Oh," David's wife whined, spinning back to face the group, "I bet my friend that the 49ers would win."
"Well the game's not over yet and they are the favourites," David consoled her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her on the head. It reminded Killian of something he'd been meaning to relay to his favourite tech analyst and he turned to face her with a smirk on his face.
"Did David tell you Mary Margaret and he are having their vows renewed?"
The aforementioned couple turned at the sound of their names and looked cluelessly on as Ruby's face erupted into a maniacal grin.
"No!" she squealed, hopping off her stool and moving to stand behind the couple. She put her arms around each of them who still looked on confused about what the brunette was doing. Ruby hugged them to her sides. David gave their group a questioning look.
"What's she on about?"
Emma piped up after taking a long swig of beer, "Jones told her about your impending vow-renewals."
The Unit Chief and his wife gave Killian a stern look, though its impact was severely diminished by the small smiles dusting each of their lips. Ruby jumped up and down behind them, letting go to clap her hands like an excited child.
"Oh, oh, oh! When is it? Can we get dressed up? Where are you having it?"
The questions were fired off like cannon balls, exploding the air with a squeal and the sound of her jewelry clashing together as she bounced on the spot. The sound of someone's phone ringing interrupted them and everyone checked their pockets. It was David's and he pulled out the device and looked at the screen, his face dropping.
They didn't even need him to speak to convey what it was but he did anyway, "We have a case."
"What? No, this is Super Bowl night. We are not allowed to have a case," Ruby pouted, crossing her arms and frowning like a spoiled toddler. Killian smiled at her reaction but pulled away from the table. It was then that he noticed Henry's absence.
"Hey," he said, garnering the attention of those at the table, "Where's the kid?"
"He went over to trick some money out of unwitting drunks – he's by the bar," Phillip said. Emma stood up, silently signalling she would procure the young analyst as they prepared to leave. Ruby and Mary Margaret picked up their purses and filed out of their seats, the men already standing beside the table ready to leave.
When Emma returned, Henry was grinning and counting what looked to be three twenty-dollar bills.
"I swear, this happens every time we go out," Ruby complained to Mary Margaret.
The youngest member of their team interceded, "Actually, statistically, the cases don't come with any more frequency if you're at a party or gathering than if you aren't. It's a trick of the mind – we merely remember the ones that came in that way more." The brunette scrutinized him heavily for a moment and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
"How are you so intelligent?" she finally asked breathily, shaking her head in apparent amazement. Henry shrugged timorously, smiling once at the two women before the team walked towards the exit. Killian walked behind Emma and Henry and when the younger man departed to go to his car, he was left alone with his partner to continue the rest of the way down the street where they'd parked their cars.
They continued on in silence, and eventually – surprisingly – she said something.
"So, did you have fun back there?" she asked, biting the last word with surprising venom. He ignored her tone and answered honestly.
"Yes, I did – I enjoy spending time with the team."
She scoffed and muttered under her breath, "Yeah, that's why you had a good time."
He frowned, his temper starting to tickle as she spoke to him with obvious disdain. He gave her a mocking look of miscomprehension, "Sorry, what did you say?"
"Nothing."
They walked another two meters and then he chose to break the silence.
"What about you? Have fun playing darts?" he asked sharply, cursing himself for revealing he'd kept an eye on her. She turned to him this time, an elegantly arched eyebrow ascending her forehead in curiosity.
"You were watching me?" she asked.
"It's hard not to watch men being annihilated at a game they usually excel in," he retorted dryly.
"I assumed your attention was… elsewhere," she replied, hinting at something he felt he should know. Killian racked his brain as he tried to pinpoint what her words indicated until he finally arrived at a conclusion that made his lips lift up into a smirk.
"You were watching me dance."
"No I wasn't."
"Lie."
She shrugged indifferently, "I might have glimpsed you dry-humping a woman who looked suspiciously like Snooki but other than that; no." His smirk widened into a grin at the condescension in her tone as she spoke of the woman he'd danced with. There was also the faintest hint of indignation in her voice.
"Well, I might also have glimpsed the men you were playing darts with ogling you when you weren't looking."
"What makes you think I wasn't aware?" she challenged, causing him to pause in thought. He didn't have a witty retort for that because the idea she was okay with those men looking at her that way made his stomach do strange things. He didn't have time to ponder it though because she'd reached her car and he still had a little ways to walk before he reached his.
She pulled out her keys and he waited with her even though he knew she could effortlessly handle herself should someone foolishly try to jump her.
When she'd successfully unlocked her car and opened the door, Emma turned around and nodded a good bye to Killian.
"See you at the office," he said, spinning on his heel to continue walking down the road.
8888
It was half an hour later that they were all gathered around the round table in their home office, save for Mary Margaret whom David had dropped off at home on his way. When they were all finally seated and quiet, Ruby picked up the remote for the television screen and pressed a button, a picture of an older woman with white hair appearing on the screen.
"Florida; Margery Tipton, a seventy-four year old widow was found murdered in her home about two hours ago," she said.
"Two hours ago?" David questioned, raising an eyebrow at the tech analyst.
"Police were on the scene unusually fast – and the reason, you ask? This is hinky; one of the un-subs called 911 to warn them that the other was about to murder the poor old lady," she replied, giving the picture of the victim a sympathetic look. "According to the 911 dispatchers, the one who called them sounded terrified and begged them get there because the other, who they both identified as Michael, was about to – and I quote – 'kill the sinner that lived there.'"
The team exchanged long looks, already formulating hypotheses towards the un-subs profile. Henry looked up at the brunette, a puzzled look creasing his forehead.
"What was their response time?" he asked.
"Four and a half minutes," Ruby replied, "during which time the un-subs were able to do this." She flinched as she pressed the button, looking away from the images that appeared on the screen. There was blood everywhere and Killian felt bile rise in his throat at the mangled body of the elderly woman.
"In four and a half minutes?" he clarified, looking at the tech analyst with disbelief.
"Yeah – Margery was retired but she inherited a ton of money from her parents and then from the death of her husband. Also – and here's where things get weird – when authorities arrived they found this displayed prominently on the front door," she said, punctuating her word by clicking the button so an image became visible of some kind of page from a book. Everyone squinted to read it and she pressed something on the remote so it zoomed in, allowing the team to do just that.
"It's a passage from the bible," Phillip said, frowning and leaning back in his chair, "For the wicked boasts of the desires of his soul, and the one greedy for gain curses and renounces the Lord."
Emma rubbed her forehead, "So we have a killer on a mission to kill sinners."
"Mission based killers will not stop killing," Henry commented, a grim look crossing his features that Killian was sure was reflected in his own face. He really hated the mission-killers; they were always so convinced they were doing the right thing that it made it hard to talk them down in hostile situations. He only hoped they didn't get into one.
He also hated people who used religion as a shield for their own screwed up tendencies.
Not that Killian was religious – but it made him angry that the few bad apples gave the entire freaking religion a bad name. Apparently the rest of the team shared his sentiments because their expressions closed off into irritation.
8888
The next morning they were on the plane again and the second the seat belt light dinged off they were huddled around a table reading through the files and looking at studies of missionary killers. Killian had just finished reading the background information they had on the lady when he exhaled deeply, pushing the air out in a deep gust and leaning his head back against the caramel leather chair.
"This is not good," he announced finally, causing Emma – who had chosen (not so subtly) to sit diagonal from him – to look up through her eyelashes.
"Gee, what made you think that?" she deadpanned, flicking over one of the pages in the manila folder and looking back down. He felt his hackles rise at her tone and a little bit more acid seeped into the slowly building pool of anger he held towards her.
"Call it intuition," he retorted with narrowed eyes, not at all in the mood to try and sort out her screwed up mindset. He was so over the back and forth she was treating him to, he really just wanted to return to the way they had been – witty banter and the occasional challenge for dominance. Not this spiteful snapping and bitter interaction. It felt unnatural and frankly, it was quite distracting.
He could see as she imperceptibly shook her head and he was about to comment when the laptop in the center of the table sounded to indicate Ruby was video-calling. He leaned forward and pressed the button, the rest of the team looking up from their respective reading and focusing on the screen.
"What do you have for us Ruby?" David asked.
"I just got the 911 call from the Florida state police. You might want to take a listen," she said, her usual mirth gone in the wake of whatever disturbing effect the tape had. There was the feint sound of a button being pressed before the recording began.
"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" a monotone female voice asked calmly.
"I need you to send police to thirty-three Freemont Drive," a male voice responded, shaky and clearly distressed.
The 911 operator responded, "What is your emergency, sir?"
There was the sound of the man breathing, and it was shallow and panicked, before he replied, "He thinks she has too much unnecessary stuff, but she's just an old lady she doesn't –"
"Are you calling because she has too much stuff?"
"No – I'm calling because Gabriel…" the voice drifted off into some sort of whimper and the 911 operator waited patiently for a reply before inquiring if the man was still there. Then, out of nowhere, another voice picked up. It was deeper, a southern accent tinting the vowels so they came out as if he were hanging them out to dry.
"He's calling because Gabriel is going to kill the sinner that lives here."
"Sorry, did you say someone was going to be killed?" the operator questioned, the calm voice waning in the light of the statement. It was at this point that the call ended, the assailant named 'Gabriel' hanging up.
Phillip stroked his chin in thought, looking around the table at all of them, "Well, the first un-sub sounds terrified. Perhaps he's doing this against his will?"
David shook his head, "I don't think so. He whispered – he could have called out for help to save them instead of calling 911."
"He could have had a gun to his head?" Phillip suggested, always the man to try and seek out the best in people – even if they didn't deserve it. Emma shook her head this time, choosing to reply.
"If he had a gun to his head, why would he have called nine-one-one? Besides, I'm more curious about the second un-sub referring to Gabriel. Are we sure there isn't a third?" She looked around the table, successfully avoiding Killian; and a little more resentment seeped into his crevasse of indignation.
"Referring to oneself in third person isn't uncommon for an un-sub," Henry interjected in a matter-of-fact tone.
From the computer, Ruby spoke, "Okay, well I'll run the name Gabriel through the Florida criminal database as well as our own. Over and out."
The small window in which her face had appeared blacked out and Killian closed the tab, turning back to the other agents at the table.
"So, we have a killing team in Florida on a religious mission," Emma said, rubbing her temples with her fingers.
"Which means they aren't going to stop until their mission is complete," Phillip finished, putting his hand on the back of his head and fingering the hair there. David sat down on the edge of the table on the opposite side of the aisle.
"Okay, Phillip we need an inside picture of the victims – victimology could be vital in this case. Emma, this guy managed to kill a woman in four and a half minutes – I want to know how. Henry, Killian and I will go to the crime scene and then set up at the Florida station. In the meantime, get some rest. I want fresh eyes when we set down," the Unit Chief spoke with finality and unquestionable authority; it was any wonder he hadn't had a team of his own sooner. Killian couldn't imagine his superior ever following anyone else, the notion was abnormal.
With those final words, the man walked to the end of the plane and settled into a seat and – as per usual – and pulled out his phone, probably to call Mary Margaret. He felt nostalgia for the days of calling someone to let them know what was happening settle in the pits of his stomach, followed almost immediately by the clenching of his heart as he recalled why he couldn't do that anymore.
Apparently his emotions were displayed on his face because when he looked up, Emma was giving him a confused look. She didn't drop her gaze when he met her eyes and there was an extended second where their gazes were simply locked.
He wondered idly what was going through her head because her walls were making it impossible for him to get a read on her like he usually did.
So he looked down and continued perusing the morbid images presented before him.
8888
Killian entered the room first, already eyeing the dark red stain on the white carpet in front of the four-poster bed. It was a nice house and he could understand how the old woman could have been mistaken for someone greedy.
There were already police officers in the large bedroom taking photos and samples. One of them, whom he presumed was the Chief of Police, made his way towards the three agents entering the room, a hand extended in greeting. Killian shook it and the man did the same to Henry and David.
"Agent Nolan, Agent Jones and Dr Henry Simmons," the latter said, introducing each of them.
"Officer Ford, nice to meet you all – though I wish it were under different circumstances," the police officer replied with a grim look, "Do you have anything so far?"
"Well, we know the killers are using religion to justify their actions," David replied and Henry and Killian moved further into the room. Killian kneeled beside the largest patch of dried blood, looking down on it with a frown before turning back to the police officer.
"How many times was Mrs Tipton stabbed?" he asked.
"Stabbed isn't exactly the word I would use," Officer Ford replied, glancing at the red stain and meeting Killian's ice blue eyes.
"What?" Henry said, voicing their concerns. It was just then that David's phone started vibrating and he answered it quickly, putting it on speaker. It was Emma.
"I'm at the morgue. The victim suffered three deep slashes to the major arteries – like she was an animal slaughter. We're dealing with someone who either has medical knowledge or has lived in a rural setting," she said, ignoring any need for preamble. They all nodded in understanding and the Unit Chief briskly extended his gratitude towards the female agent.
"Okay, thanks Emma."
"No problem, I'll see you at the precinct," she said and then the line went dead.
Killian stood up, "Okay," he said, moving towards the door and trying to get into the headspace of the killer, "So, if my partner's called the cops, they're on their way – I don't have a lot of time. Assuming the first un-sub didn't participate, I would have to enter first from here." He looked to where the large blood stain was. "I see Mrs Tipton preparing for bed and approach. She's old so I know it won't be difficult to subdue her. I cut her, put the note on the bed, and leave… were you able to pick up any DNA?" Killian asked. Officer Ford shook his head and Henry frowned.
"That's strange. Usually, un-subs suffering from a psychopathy or delusion like a message from God are what we would classify as being disorganized. They don't generally clean up after themselves."
David crossed his arms at the young man's observation, his brows pulling together in thought, "Perhaps the first un-sub made sure they did – he's obviously not completely invested in the killing."
The sound of Killian's phone ringing made them pause and he pulled out the small device, answering it and putting it to his ear.
"Yeah sweet cheeks?"
He ignored the strange look Officer Ford gave him and waited for Ruby's counter, anticipating some new and amusing greeting.
"You're at the crime scene, correct?" she said without prelude, her commonly bright voice a decibel lower than usual. The concern was already amalgamating in his mind.
"Yeah," he replied slowly.
"Is there a small white elegant morris chair in the corner?" she asked.
He turned around to check and surely enough, there was a small white chair nestled in the corner, the artfully designed mahogany detailing alluding to its likely expensive price. Killian cocked his head to the side anxiously.
"Yes."
She sighed, "Oh no."
"What? What's wrong?" he asked, the concern clear and tangible in his voice.
"I just got a viral video sent to me from a friend."
"What?"
Why should that matter? He was tempted to ask if she was hung-over from the other night when she elucidated on her statement.
"I think it's a video of your crime scene, more specifically your crime, more specifically, Mrs Tipton being murdered."
He turned to look at Henry and David who were both looking at him with anxious stares, he voiced his thoughts in a way that would both ask her a question and answer theirs.
"You're telling me there's a video online of our crime?"
The look that crossed his team-members' faces was one of mixed shock and disgust. On the other end of the phone Ruby hummed an affirmative.
"Shot across the bedroom from the couch," she answered. Killian pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to face the couch and then pivoting to look in the opposite direction. There was a desk on the opposite side of the room upon which sat an inconsequential silver laptop.
8888
"He says the world is a cess pool of greed, lust and disease. He says redemption must be sought. We must all repent," the dark silhouette said, his face shaded by darkness cast about by the dim lighting and strategically placed hoodie. He closed the book from which he read and tilted his head up, but not so much that the light could catch a stray feature and identify him.
Emma and Phillip sat at the desk as the rest of the team – including Officer Ford – stood behind their chairs, all eyes glued to the screen. Killian shook his head at the monitor, watching as the image of their un-sub faded to reveal the video Ruby had mentioned.
"As the lord, God, spoke in Leviticus 26:18 - And if ye will not yet for all this hearken unto him, then he will punish you seven times more for your sins," a darker voice resonated over the grainy footage on the screen.
From where the webcam was recording across the room, Mrs Tipton became visible, shuffling into the room slowly. She headed towards the mahogany dresser opposite her bed and opened a drawer. Like watching a horror film come to life, Killian saw as a dark silhouette became visible in the doorway.
He moved towards the old lady and grabbed her roughly from behind, brandishing his weapon at her neck. Thankfully, however, Emma chose to pause the viral video before it could elicit their lunches to make a reappearance.
"Well the person speaking definitely sounded like the first un-sub," the blonde said, swivelling in her chair to face the team. Phillip mirrored her movements, his fingertips pressed together in thought.
"And the voice-over is certainly the second un-sub. I'm more interested in the fact that you only see one of them on tape. I'd bet my life savings it was the second one who did the dirty work," he said, nodding back to the screen where the hooded figure was poised with the knife at Mrs Tipton's throat. From a short distance away, still poised in front of the victim's computer that they had relocated to the precinct, Henry interrupted.
"Actually, that's not necessarily correct. In the case of Dick Hickock and Perry Smith, Perry was the subservient personality and strongly contested even entering the Clutter home, yet he was the one who almost single-handedly slaughtered the entire family."
Officer Ford turned back to the other agents with a look of bewilderment and slight admiration, "Huh," he shrugged in vague interest, subtly dismissing Henry and returning to the computer screen. The kid didn't take it as offensive, pivoting on his chair and focusing on the computer again.
"Punish you seven times? Does that mean there are six more victims?" David inquired, bringing forth the second un-sub's words of warning.
"Probably –"
"Hey guys," Henry's voice came again, alarm tipping his cadence to a higher decibel. He was standing now, leaning away from the computer at an awkward angle. His eyes sought them out and as they turned around he directed his attention to the Florida officer.
"Does this building have wireless?" he asked the burly man in a hushed tone. Officer Ford nodded slowly, confused at the young agents sudden desire to know their internet status and asked him as much.
"The webcam's on right now."
Their small congregation was quiet as the information set in and, in only a moment, David was quickly walking towards Henry, careful to stay out of the line of view of the laptop's webcam.
"Do you know whether the laptop was the victim's?" he asked firmly, pointing to the device.
Henry nodded an affirmative, "From what I can gather from her emails, her kids bought it for her so they could keep in contact with her."
Killian approached the two men as well, brows drawn in thought.
"So you're saying the computer's connected itself to the internet?"
"And streaming the feed somewhere," Henry finished for him, looking back at the laptop uncertainly. David rubbed his chin and kept his blue eyes on the computer on the desk, like it was a ticking time-bomb just waiting for the perfect moment to erupt.
"Can we trace the stream to the destination?" The Unit Chief posed, taking his hand away from his face.
Henry nodded appreciatively, pursing his lips in contemplation, "If we could keep it open, Ruby could –"
The sound of barely audible beeping stole the young man's attention away from the conversation and he spun around to find the source. Killian looked down to where it was coming from; to where the laptop's screen had now blanked out. Henry glanced at the worriedly, sitting down in front of the laptop and tapping rapidly in an effort to withhold whatever was occurring.
Killian didn't know much about technology but he had a feeling that whatever had just caused the computer to shut itself down was not good.
The rest of their team and the Florida Officer quickly gravitated towards Henry, David and Killian – surrounding the former as he tried in vain to restore the homepage. It was another couple of seconds before the beeping stopped as red words faded into sight on the black screen.
"The armies of Satan shall not prevail," Emma read from somewhere beside Killian.
There was another loud beep and then the screen was black again and Henry turned around to face them all.
"It's turned off."
David folded his arms across his chest as the young man closed the laptop lid carefully.
"So they're controlling it remotely," he said, to which Officer Ford shook his head, his face scrunched up in confusion like folds of rough fabric.
"Is that even possible?" he asked. Killian had to restrain the urge to laugh at the incredulous and disbelieving look that Henry gave him – he could only imagine what Ruby would have done if she'd heard such a question (which was likely scold the poor bloke for being so imprudent).
At that thought, Killian raised his hand, standing up and heading a short distance away, "I'll call Ruby."
David nodded at him in approval and the agent fixed his attention on the small mobile screen in his hand. He swiftly dialled the tech analyst and was unsurprised to hear her voice after one short ring.
"Fountain of knowledge – check my flow," she said and Killian shook his head.
"One day, sweet cheeks, you're going to say that I'm going to have put you on speaker phone," he responded, half-serious. She chuckled on the other end of the line and sighed dramatically.
"Oh honey, you know I don't care who hears it – it's always been you," she replied.
He ignored her quip and any pretence of preamble, "We've just identified that the un-sub somehow hacked into the computer of his victim. How would one do that?" She scoffed, and there was no tapping of ring-stacked fingers on keys because she had the information off the top of her head – the lass did, after all, graduate MIT with honours.
"It's actually quite easy, sugar – in fact, did you say this was an older woman?" she asked, and Killian could almost hear the light bulb go off when he replied in the affirmative. "Well, remote computer access is done commonly with tech support – when muggles call, instead of giving instructions, the tech can work on the computer from wherever they are."
"Can they maintain the access even after the work is done?" he inquired.
"You're not supposed to but I suppose you could install a Trojan horse during the service?" Ruby answered, taking a sip of something that Killian almost automatically assumed was caffeinated.
"Would you be able to check through Mrs Tipton's phone records and see if she called for tech support in the last six months?"
"Righto – and if you can get me the lady's laptop, I can search the drive for anything implanted there," she said distractedly, the sound of a chair squeaking in the background. He could imagine her leaning back in the swivel chair and playing with the delicate pink pen that housed what he could only assume was a bird's tail on its lid.
"Thanks Ruby," he answered, pulling the phone away to hang up.
She giggled, "No problem, Killy."
The agent pulled the mobile device back to his ear, ready to reprimand the young tech analyst for continuing the use of the ridiculous nickname when the line went flat. He cursed under his breath and though there was no antagonism there, he reminded himself to admonish her the next time they talked.
Killian walked back to the group and relayed what Ruby had told him, sitting down at the table facing the whiteboard. Henry and Emma were also seated at the table while David and Phillip stood on the opposite side of the table, across from the three agents. The Unit Chief folded his arms when Killian had finished explaining their tech analyst's findings, a look of deep consternation masking his face.
"Okay," he said, pacing to the other side of the room, "What do we have so far?"
Emma leaned back in her chair, "The killing was clinically efficient – it had the earmarks of a slaughter."
"Or a sacrifice," Killian added absentmindedly, leaning on the table and looking around the team.
Phillip nodded grimly, "I haven't been able to find anything in federal or state databases that suggests similar crimes so, as far as I can tell, this is the first in the series."
"At least one member of the team may believe he's killing in the name of God, suggesting a psychopathy that should display extreme levels of disorganization and yet," Henry stood up from his seat and made his way to the pin board, carefully removing the crime scene report detailing the lack of DNA evidence, "forensic countermeasures were taken and there's a clear display of complicated computer work." He paused, frowning at the page and looking back up at the team as he fingered the corner of the page he was holding. "So, one member of the team is organized and the other is extremely disorganized but what's strange is that the one who we would consider being most in control – the one that made the phone call – can't seem to stop the other from killing. I mean, usually the frenzied personality takes direction from the cooler head."
Killian rubbed his forehead, "Okay, so let's look at that," he said, picking up a pencil from the table and playing idly with it as he spoke, "Un-sub one called the police before the murder but didn't leave time for them to get there."
"Could he be working on a defence in case of capture?" Emma queried, holding her hand aloft in question, "I mean, maybe he didn't want to stop the other but he did what he had to do to cover himself." David nodded and the blonde peered at a pile of manila folders on the desk, pulling them towards her and reading through them.
Killian turned back to their small congregation, all paused in thought.
One of the most difficult facets to their job was solving the puzzle that every crime presented. It wasn't simply a case of evidence, suspect, and arrest. They were given jigsaw pieces, all jumbled in a bloodied pile that they were tasked with hosing off and trying to fit into place. Have you ever tried to put together a jigsaw puzzle when you didn't have the picture it corresponded to?
That was their job.
Killian didn't know how long they sat there, trying to sort through the details of the case to give them a clear picture, throwing in the occasional suggestion. It certainly felt like hours. The two un-subs were a walking contradiction; everything about their methods, personalities, modus operandi, suggested two completely opposing ideas.
Phillip and Henry had taken to sitting down at the table as Emma continued to read through the manila folders she'd picked up. David stood in front of the pin board, his eyes scanning over the crime scene photos and reports over and over again, hoping to pick up something he hadn't previously.
Killian was looking through old unsolved cases involving deep cuts but none fit their un-sub.
From his peripheral vision, he could see as Emma's back straightened, her eyes darting quickly over the page she was reading.
"Hey guys," she said, calling everyone's attention, "I was looking through unsolved home invasions and three months ago, there was a prowler called in directly outside Mrs Tipton's home."
Henry raised his eyebrows, "A prowler?"
Emma nodded, standing up and walking towards David who put his hand out for the document. She obliged him, handing it over and turning back to the team with her hands on her hips.
"The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park, when he was going back to his car he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall and start sneaking up to the house. By the time the police got there, the prowler was gone," she said.
David looked up from where he was reading the police report of the incident, "Only one man?"
Again, Emma nodded and Killian asked, "Was the witness able to describe him?"
David turned to him, "If he did, it's not in the report."
"Did he leave a name and address?" Emma asked the Unit Chief. He looked to the top of the page and read the detail that lay there.
"Anthony Reed, he lives about an hour away."
The blonde tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed, "It's a long shot but he might be able to give us a description of the un-sub."
David nodded, "Okay – go check it out."
Emma nodded and Killian prepared to accompany her, pushing his chair out and readying himself to endure her driving. However, when her blue eyes caught his movement, she walked towards Henry.
"Hey kid, let's go," she said with a nod towards the exit, as though it were the most normal thing in the world for her to ask the youngest member of their team to accompany her on a lead. It wasn't as though she had a partner or anything who had attended to nearly every lead with her in their years as companions. He narrowed his eyes at her as she spoke to the young man.
He felt something clench in his chest and it was oddly evocative of offense.
Henry's eyes flickered between Emma and Killian, silently begging them to give him direction. When his brown eyes landed on Killian, the man nodded imperceptibly and stood up to walk over to David.
The blonde didn't glance at him once, watching as Henry picked up his jacket before strutting out of the precinct. The second she left Killian realized the odd silence and turned around to see Phillip and David both staring expectantly at him.
"What?" he shrugged, a façade of disinterest gracing his features.
Phillip raised an eyebrow and with his familiar cadence asked, "So it's now considered normal for Emma to take Henry instead of her partner?"
"I don't own her – and besides, might be good to get the kid some field work," he replied. David gave him an incredulous look and folded his arms across his chest and he felt strangely like he was back in high school, under the scrutiny of the principal who just didn't understand that the kid he'd beaten up had been picking on a junior.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"Did you guys have another fight?" David asked to which Killian responded with a dramatic sigh and a roll of his cerulean eyes.
"Oh my god, you make it sound like we're actually married – don't know if you guys know this, but we were acting back in Illinois," he said, his tone implying that he was speaking to a couple of toddlers. David and Phillip exchanged knowing looks and Killian groaned. David opened his mouth to implore the dark-haired agent.
"Jones, you-"
Thankfully, as though the gods had heard his prayers, Officer Ford made his way over to them with a look of deep dismay etched into his wrinkled brow. He looked at each of them briefly before taking a deep breath.
"The state police just responded to another murder."
8888
Carlotta Avenue was one of those archetypal suburban streets that were habitually seen in real estate magazines – the white picket fences, perfectly manicured hedges lining a regularly-mowed spring green lawn that sprawled out to meet the edges of a panelled house. Every second home had their sprinklers on and every third had a delicate wind-chime on the front porch.
The two lane road was split by a line of Amur maple trees, their light green leaves nicely complemented by the lawns of each house. Killian could just imagine the children running down the concrete paths, riding their bikes or chasing each other – it was that kind of perfect neighbourhood.
Unfortunately, Killian's first impression of Carlotta Avenue was of a large white-panelled house with big bay windows where a dozen or so vehicles were parked along the curb and there was a line of police tape sectioning off the seamless house.
As their black sedan pulled up, David, Phillip and Killian exited the car and walked up the red brick pathway to the front porch. The door was already wide open and there were multiple police officers moving in and out of the house.
David moved in first, heading straight for Officer Ford who had left five minutes before they had and thus, arrived a few minutes earlier then they did, looked around the small front room and noted idly how there was only one photo of the married couple that owned the home. It was one of those generic wedding-day pictures of the bride and groom, smiling obligatorily at the camera. The man's smile was genuine – his eyes crinkled – while the woman grinned unconvincingly, her mouth brought up in a feeble attempt to showcase happiness.
He turned back just as Officer Ford began speaking, "They called again but this time only one spoke."
Phillip was quick on the uptake, "Which one?"
"I'm pretty sure it was Gabriel – I've got a recording being brought in for us. It took us ten minutes to respond this time because we only had the one unit close," he said apologetically – like it was his personal fault that a murdering duo on a mission had decided to make Florida their target.
"Could the un-subs have known that?" Killian asked.
"Perhaps – I mean, the lack of police presence in this area has gained media coverage lately."
"Where are the bodies?" David asked, having identified the house as belonging to a married couple. Officer Ford spun on his heel and indicated for them to follow, talking all the way as they made their way up the stairs.
"Now, the nine-one-one call wasn't all that was different. This particular scene is weird in another way," he said, leading them towards the room. The door was still open and from the hallway Killian could see the corner of the blood stain on the carpet. As the entered the room, Officer Ford stopped beside them.
"That man," he said, pointing to the naked man face-down on the floor, "does not live here."
Phillip turned to the officer with a look of confusion on his face as Killian and David shared a look. They walked further into the room as Phillip waited for an elucidation on the victim's identity.
Officer Ford looked down at the naked man lying in a pool of his own blood, "He's a local handyman."
David kneeled beside the man, "Who does live here?"
"The Gilmers – I just talked to Mr Gilmer a minute ago. He's on his way back from a business meeting down state and according to him, he wasn't having any handy work done on the house and his wife was supposed to be home."
"But she's not," Killian filled in, rubbing his stubble absent-mindedly and watching in slight amusement as Phillip put the pieces together with a look of pure shock. The guy was so bloody pure – adultery probably wasn't even in his vernacular.
"Her car's here – so are all her things; purse, keys, wallet. She seems to be missing," Ford added just as a younger looking officer entered and handed him a small sound recorder. David stood up and walked closer, as did Killian and they listened closely as the man pressed the button to play the tape.
It was the deep southern drawl that had cut off the first un-sub from Mrs Tipton's house.
"Behold, I will cast her into a bed, and them that commit adultery with her into great tribulation, except they repent of their deeds. Another sinner will be slain in this house of treachery."
The recording ended with a barely audible click.
"Okay," Phillip said, "so adultery's the sin but they killed him," he pointed to the naked victim, "and not her. Instead, they abduct her."
"Do you think she's still alive?" Ford asked, his eyes switching between each of the three men. Killian stepped away first, back towards the body.
"We never assume otherwise unless there's evidence," he said curtly, looking around the room. His eyes swept over the desk and as they did, he felt himself stiffen for a split second before continuing his revolution around the room. When he turned back to the team, he walked as if he hadn't noticed a thing and spoke without concern.
"Don't look now, but we're on camera," he said, to which the officer automatically froze. Killian walked leisurely from the room and was followed by the rest of the men who, once they were out in the hall, let the apprehension creep onto their faces.
David was immediately speaking to Killian, "Call ruby – see if she can trace the camera to a location or get any information from it."
He nodded; turning and heading back down the stair to the hall and then out onto the front porch. He pulled out his phone and it was only a moment before Ruby's familiar voice was answering him.
"Please give me something to do – I'm so bored right now and Mrs Tipton's phone records are taking a surprisingly long while," she pleaded the second she picked up.
"I'm at 32 Carlotta Avenue, there's a laptop in here and the camera is activated – can you trace where the feed leads to?" he asked, for once skipping out on the sharp banter. As usual, Ruby took it in her stride, unaffected by the succinct demands as she tapped furiously at her keyboard. It was a good minute before she stopped typing.
"Um, Killian, it's going to take a while. I'll call you when I have something – go brood or something," she replied, hanging up on him before he could answer. A small smile dusted his lips in spite of the situation and he returned to the team just as David spoke.
"This team doesn't act like any team we've ever seen. There's clearly a dominant personality and subservient one but they shouldn't be swinging back and forth like this," he said, looking thoroughly bemused as he turned to Phillip, "You ever seen this in case history?"
The man shook his head and crossed his arms, "A mixture of extreme psychosis and a controlled individual? No. One of the most common indicators of extreme psychosis is isolation."
Killian raised his eyebrow briefly, "They don't exactly play well with others." David kneaded his forehead with his eyes squinted tightly shut, the look of deep thought broadcasted openly on his face. He turned to Killian.
"Has Ruby found anything on a Gabriel in the records?"
He shook his head, "Not so far – she would have told me."
David let himself fall against the wall beside them, leaning against it and studying the staircase banister opposite him, "So why is he naming himself? Twice. I mean… he's certainly not worried about us getting that name."
"An alias, perhaps?" Phillip suggested half-heartedly.
"Or Gabriel doesn't actually exist," Killian whispered, almost to himself. He could almost hear the comical high-pitched ding of the light bulb that lit up in his head. His ice blue eyes landed on all of them, his thoughts whirring rapidly as pieces fell into place with silent clicks. Phillip, David and Officer Ford all looked at him impatiently and he wondered if it was how Henry felt on every single case.
"Gabriel was one of the archangels – what if we have one un-sub who's suffering from a delusion that he's actually an archangel?"
Phillip's eyes glazed over in thought, "That would explain the split personas working in harmony despite the contrasting dispositions." David nodded as well, spurred into action by the plausible hypothesis. His features hardened with some bleak realization and he looked fleetingly at one of the photographs of the happy couple lining the cream walls.
"If Mrs Gilmer is the woman mentioned in the passage – Jezebel – than she has an especially unpleasant death in her future."
8888
As they entered the precinct for the second time that day, the difference in atmosphere was noticeable. Even before one of the younger police officers made her way to them with a foreboding look, they could see it in the way the station was abuzz with activity – more so than usual.
The young officer spoke directly to David almost as soon as they walked through the double doors.
"Agent Nolan, your tech from Quantico is on the phone," she said, walking with them to the table set up at the front of the room. They gathered around it as the Unit Chief pressed the correct buttons and put the shrill voice on loud-speaker.
"Lucas," he answered curtly, sitting on the edge of the desk.
She huffed petulantly, "Don't you people answer your phones?"
Phillip was the one to answer apologetically, "We were driving back through the countryside – spotty cell signal," he explained. Ruby sighed dramatically and the sound of her chair wheeling across her office could be heard.
"Fine."
"What do you have for us, Ruby?" David asked, unperturbed by her brusque reply and deviation from the subject matter. Everyone knew that the brunette tech analyst didn't hold onto grudges; she hadn't even managed to stay angry at Emma when the blonde had recklessly jeopardized her life on a case the year before. Though Killian could swear he remembered hearing that Ruby had chewed her ass out for it. He nearly had too.
"If you think that first video went viral fast, the second one's going through the stratosphere," she commented cynically. Everyone surrounding the speaker shared anxious glances.
"What second video?" David asked.
"Yeah, there's a new video from your psycho – I'm sending it through now," she said. Phillip's laptop on the desk beeped the notification and Officer Ford moved alongside the latter to sit down in front of the desk.
"Thanks Ruby," Killian said, hanging up and heading over where the rest of the team were now waiting for the video to load. The screen was black for a few seconds before; once again, there was an image of a dark silhouette reading from a thick book in his hands. He spoke for a short moment, saying something about a woman named Jezebel but it was barely heard over the sound of dogs barking violently in the background. When the man stood up and walked away, the screen showed a woman – Mrs Gilmer.
Her arms were spread wide and tied to either side of some structure. She was kneeling on a mattress and a piece of duct tape stifled the desperate cries tearing their way up through her chest. Mrs Gilmer moved from side to side, trying in vain to get some kind of leeway and escape her binds.
Suddenly, her movements became more frantic and Killian soon realized why. The barking became louder and three dark figures entered the screen, barrelling towards the woman. Killian didn't look at the screen for long, turning his head away as the rest of the team gasped in horror.
"That's enough," David mercifully said.
Phillip raised his hand to shut the laptop when Officer Ford abruptly stopped him, "Wait!" he said. Killian levelled him with a look of disgust.
"You haven't seen enough?" he spat.
The officer shook his head, staring at the gruesome depiction on the screen, "Those dogs," he muttered vaguely, raising a finger to point at the animals tearing at Mrs Gilmer's flesh.
"Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago!" he said, turning to David, Phillip and Killian, "I would have had them impounded but the victim knew the owner – a neighbour – and he didn't want to press charges."
David raised his eyebrows dubiously, "You sure?"
Officer Ford nodded fervently, shutting the laptop now that he was affirmative. He headed to a desk a short distance away, opened one of the drawers and fished around momentarily before producing a small, black, leather-bound notepad. He walked briskly back towards them, already flicking through the pages.
"I knew those dogs looked sick," he muttered indignantly, "I called animal control but I don't know if they ever followed up on it – here it is." He'd located the page and handed it to David.
The Unit Chief took it from him and read over the page, his eyes stopping on some detail and widening marginally. He thrust the notepad at Killian and immediately turned to Phillip.
"Can you call Henry?"
He shrugged, unsure, "I don't know – remember the spotty cell signal?"
Apprehension sweeping over him fast, Killian looked down at the notepad in an attempt to identify the source of his superior's sudden onset of anxiety. The offence had been committed the previous year on a property about an hour away, the victim's name was Harrison Curt and…
Shit.
Killian felt as though a brick had slid down through his chest and into his stomach. At the bottom of the page, in gruff handwriting was the name of the owner of the dogs: Anthony Reed.
Emma and Henry.
Shit.
Please don't force me to beg - review?
Oh, and for those of you who don't know - I'm currently holding a vote on my tumblr about what dress you think Emma should wear to the gala. I've drawn four options and you've got a couple of weeks before I'll need the final choice. It's under the tag: "Emma Swan Dress Vote" and is on my tumblr.