Chapter 19 - One Hell of a Day

Episode - Lucky

Bridgewater Hotel Bar

Dave walks through the door of the bar and stops to scan the room. The music blares and the dance floor resembles a snake pit full of writhing bodies. He catches a glimpse of the team at a booth on the far side of the room.

With a grimace, he wades his way through the crowd, jostled several times and taking an elbow to the ribs. He is a few feet from the team when a tall thin, red-headed woman wearing black leather pants and a crop-top wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself to him.

"Hello, handsome," she drawls in a deep southern twang. "You are like calamine lotion on poison ivy – soothing and oh so satisfying. Wanna dance?"

Dave reaches up and unwraps her arms from his neck. "Thank you, but no. I'm meeting some friends."

He nods to the table where the team sits and watches them. The woman looks over and gives Emily and JJ a long stare. She turns back to Dave. "I can fuck better than either one of them. I'll even suck your cock right now to prove it."

She reaches for his belt. Dave jumps back and grabs her wrist. "You need to move along, before you get yourself in trouble."

"I ain't afraid of your girlfriends," she boasts.

"They are not my girlfriends, they are federal agents," he says loud enough for her to hear. "Now move along."

She pouts at him. "If you change your mind, I'll be here all night."

She slips off into the crowd. Dave shakes his head and continues his journey to the table. He sits next to Reid and picks up the drink Emily pushes across the table to him.

"Thank you," he says.

"Looks like you made a new friend," Emily grins.

"That was some fancy hip action you had there," JJ teases.

Dave takes a drink and peers at them over the rim of the glass. "Where's Morgan," he asks ignoring their remarks.

"On the dance floor, trying to pick up your castoff," Emily laughs.

Dave looks over his shoulder and quickly spies the younger agent and the redhead. The woman shakes her head and walks away from Morgan who shrugs and starts dancing by himself. "Looks like he didn't get lucky."

Dave glances back in time to see a different woman maneuver herself in front of the younger agent.

A harried looking waitress comes to the table with a tray full of food. She hands Emily a salad, a burger and fries for JJ, chicken tenders and fries for Reid, and sets a steak in front of Dave. "Anything else I can get you guys," she asks. Dave reaches for the steak sauce on the table.

"I think we're good," Emily answers the woman.

The waitress bustles away.

"Nothing for Morgan," Dave asks.

"He doesn't eat this late," Reid answers. He tips the bottle of ketchup over his fries and waits for it to drip.

"Make sure that's cow and not gator," JJ suggests. "She kept pushing the gator steak, saying it was healthier."

Dave pokes the meat on his plate. "Gator steak? Is that a thing?" He frowns.

"Actually alligator meat is purported to be a variation of white meat, like chicken and pork. While it can be grilled it is most often deep fried and served on a stick," Reid informs them. "Locals often put an entire alligator on a grill and barbecue it whole. It's supposed to be quite the delicacy."

Dave cuts a corner of the meat and holds it up. "Looks red-ish pink," he states.

Reid leans over and peers at it. "I concur. I think it is beef."

It doesn't take any of them long to finish their meals. Dave orders another drink as the girls pay their bills and say their good nights, leaving Dave and Reid alone at the table. Other than the music blaring in the room, there is complete silence.

Dave allows the days' events to run through his head as he sips at the liquor in his glass. After a short time, he becomes acutely aware of Reid watching him. He turns slowly to see the youngest agent giving him a death glare.

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Reid watches him intently. Dave stares back for a moment before looking at his glass. He shifts in his seat knowing that Reid is still staring. He slams the glass to the table and turns to glare at the agent.

"If you have a problem, say it," he demands.

"Penelope Garcia," Reid growls.

Dave sits up straight. "What about her?"

The younger agent watches unblinking. Dave squirms. He looks around for the waitress, in hopes of ordering another drink, but she is nowhere to be found. Dave turns back to Reid and sighs.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he defends. "And I have apologized, even though I did nothing wrong."

Reid continues to stare.

"I promise, I'm working on fixing things with her," Dave explains. "But it's going to take a little time."

Reid relaxes slightly. "I'm going to have to trust you. The fact that you turned that woman on the dance floor down, gives me reason to believe that you are changing your womanizing ways. Also, I may be the only one on the team who believes it when you say that other woman is not your girlfriend."

"Really," Dave questions.

Reid nods. "You did not seem happy to see her. And when she kissed you, you didn't reciprocate. Had she been your girlfriend, you would have kissed her back out of reflex. But you didn't. In fact, you seemed quite stunned."

Dave chuckled. "You got that spot on."

"I may not understand relationships, but I do understand body language," Reid points out. "And yours is telling me that you're tired."

Dave laughs again. "Another one for Dr. Reid."

Dave pulls out his wallet and tosses sixty dollars on the table. "Let me know if I owe more than that."

"That should suffice," Reid states.

Dave slides out of the booth and heads back to his hotel room.

Screams fill the hallway, blood drips slowly down the walls as Dave cautiously makes his way to the master bedroom. Gun drawn he stops outside the door. The screams from inside are high-pitched, hurting his ears even through the closed door.

He reaches for the blood-covered doorknob. His hand trembles, sweat drips from his brow. Annoyed, he swipes it away. The screaming gets louder as a banging noise permeates from inside the master bedroom. He grabs the knob, twists it and shoves the door open.

Water laps at his feet. He looks down, the water rises quickly over his shoes and stops midway up his calf.

"What the hell," he mutters.

"Help," a young boy yells.

Dave scans the room, spotting the boy and two other children on the other side of the room. The banging continues, but he is unable to locate the source of the noise.

"Help," the boy screams again.

Dave holsters his weapon and slogs through the water. He feels something brush past his leg. He stops and looks down at the water, something dark and scaly swims past him. He hurries through the water to the other side of the room.

He kneels next to the kids; it's the Galen kids – Connie, Georgie and Alicia. They are young, between the ages of 3 and 7. Hair unkempt, they are wearing blood covered pajamas.

"It's okay. I'm here," he says reassuringly. "You guys are going to be fine."

"But what about my legs," Connie asks.

He frowns. "Your legs?"

He stares at her. The pajama top ends at her waist. Everything from there down is gone – eaten by an alligator.

"I thought you were going to help us," she says. The pounding continues.

"I am," he replies.

"You were going to help us," Georgie says.

"Please, help us," Alicia begs.

Dave, drenched in sweat, jerks awake and sits up. The room is dark and quiet. Dave blinks a couple of times and shakes his head. He slips out of the bed and crosses the room to the bathroom.

He turns on the faucet and lets the water run over his hands for several minutes before swiping water over his face. He repeats the motions two more times before turning off the faucet and leaning over the sink. His head pounds. He closes his eyes.

From the other room, his alarm sounds. Time to get up. What little sleep he got, wasn't restful. Now he needs a couple gallons of coffee to get through the day.

He pushes off the counter, wipes his face on a towel and switches the lights on. The sudden brightness causes him to squint as a headache begins to form behind his eyes.

"This is going to be a bitch of a day," he murmurs.

The next morning

Dave enters the hotel restaurant, spotting Hotch across the room, he makes a beeline through the tables. He slouches into the seat across from Aaron without waiting for an invitation.

"Good morning," Aaron smiles.

Dave grunts as he reaches for the carafe at the edge of the table.

"What happened?" The younger man frowns.

"I didn't sleep very well. Had a weird dream… a nightmare really."

"Want to talk about it," Aaron asks.

Dave shakes his head. "I don't know. Part of it was this case we're working on and part of it was about…"

"About what?"

Dave shakes his head again. "Just some kids I used to know."

He sips the hot brew and looks over at Hotch. The unit chief watches him carefully. He grins knowingly. "No, this case isn't getting to me. It was just a weird combination of memories. And probably dinner. Did you know there is such a thing as gator steak?"

"Eww, no. I've had gator kebobs though they were deep fried and covered in spices."

"I had dinner with the team," Dave tells him. "Apparently the waitress was trying to give us gator steaks. I prefer my steak to be beef."

Hotch nods slowly. "Dinner with the team, huh?"

"Yeah." He stops for a moment. "Why weren't you there?"

Hotch shrugs. "I wasn't up to eating last night."

"You talk to Jack?"

"Briefly. Haley was in a hurry to get me off the phone," he replies dryly.

"I'm sorry."

Hotch looks at him. "It's easily solvable, I could resign. Go back to law."

Dave scoffs. "Yeah, and I could be the Pope."

The rest of the team joined Dave and Hotch about fifteen minutes later. Throughout breakfast, Dave noticed he was getting weird looks from Morgan and Reid. Reid appeared to be worried about something and Morgan was watching him like he was about to explode or something.

Dave finished his meal and pulled a twenty out of his wallet, which he handed to Hotch.

"I'm going to the restroom. I'll meet you outside," he explained as he rose from his seat and walked away.

He finished his ablutions in the restroom and walked out the door as his phone rang.

"Rossi."

"Hey," Penelope replies.

"Hey, is everything okay," he asks. His mind races thinking something has happened to his Dad.

"I was going to ask you that," she says. "Derek told me you had a nightmare."

"Why would he tell you that?"

"He and Spencer heard you scream through the wall," she explained. "You guys share a wall, you know."

Dave groans silently and rubs his face. Of course, Derek would tell her that – anything to make him look bad.

"David?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," he tells her.

"You sure? You don't sound fine," she states.

"I'm still tired," he admits. "Thank you for calling."

"You're welcome. You want to talk about the dream?"

He chuckles. "No. Don't worry about me, sweetheart."

"That's part of my job," she replies quickly.

He glances at his watch. "You're not at work already, are you?"

"Good God no," she laughs. "I just took a shower and dressed. I'm about to leave."

He takes a moment to think about her in the shower and how much he wished he was there with her.

"How did you talk to Morgan already?"

"He wakes me up with a phone call every morning when you guys are on a case," she shares.

"Huh," he grunts.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That wasn't nothing," she presses.

"I just think it is interesting that the two of you are so into each other but you say you are not dating," he says.

"Not that it is any of your business, but I can assure you Derek Morgan and I are best friends. Always have been and always will be. We are a package deal. Anyone who dates either one of us has to understand that he and I will always be close."

"Duly noted," he murmurs.

"You and I, however, are still working on being friends. And as such, if you ever need to talk, I'm a phone call away," she reminds him. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare now?"

"No," he sighs.

"I'm a really good listener."

He scoffs. "I have to catch up with the team."

"Chicken."

He grins and shakes his head. "Good-bye Penelope."

"Bye," she says as the line goes dead.

Dave closes his phone, puts it away and heads for the exit.

Bridgewater Police Department – detectives office

Dave sorts through the images of the ten dead women identified by their fingerprints. He'd had a feeling from the beginning that this case was serial, and now he had the evidence. Though, this evidence didn't help them much, except for identifying the killer's base of operations.

He hangs the pictures up on the board and waits for Hotch and the detectives to filter in.

Hotch begins the briefing. "Abby Kelton and ten others murdered by a serial killer here in Bridgewater."

"Here," Detective Jordan questions. He removes the ever-present cigar stub from his mouth. "How can you be sure?"

"These marks," Hotch states as he looks towards the white board. "Represent where the first ten disappeared. The void in the center is his safety zone. He avoids killing near his home to escape detection. And the void's center is Bridgewater."

"Why would he violate his safety zone," Jordan asks. "No one knew he existed."

"Because," Dave cuts in. "No one knew he existed. That's why he left us the fingers."

Jordan asks, "If he wants us to know, does he want us to catch him?"

"No. Killing gives him power," Dave tells the man. "Our knowing gives him more. He won't stop. He's just getting started."

Jordan's cell phone rings. "Detective Jordan. Yeah? Yeah, I got it." He hangs up the phone. "You were right. He's just getting started."

In the SUV

Dave drives the SUV through the streets of Bridgewater and heads towards the water. Emily sits in the passenger seat navigating, while on the phone with Garcia.

"Okay," Emily says into the phone. "Five miles on the highway, take the dirt road on the right, follow the signs to the park, got it. Thanks, Garcia. What?"

Emily listens silently for a few moments; she gives Dave a side glance. "Thanks," she says finally. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Keep an eye on whom," Dave asks when she hangs up the phone.

"Hmm?"

"You told Garcia you would keep an eye on him, him who?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emily responds.

Dave groans. "What did she say about me?"

"Why would you assume she was talking about you?"

"Why won't you tell me who she was talking about," he sasses back.

"You're avoiding the question."

Dave laughs and shakes his head. "This is turning into an Abbott and Costello routine."

They sit in silence as they leave the small city.

"You sure you don't want me to drive," she asks.

"I'm sure," he says as he glances at her. "Why do you ask?"

Emily shrugs. "After last night…"

He glares. "What are you talking about?"

"She said you didn't sleep well."

"Jesus Christ," Dave mutters. "I had a bad dream is all. I'm okay to drive."

"Okay," she nods. "If you want me to drive though…"

He glances at her and reads the sincerity in her face. "Thank you."

She smiles. "You're welcome."

"She asked you to keep an eye on me?"

Her smile turns to a grin. "You've been accepted. You should be grateful. Garcia doesn't like change and she has a hard time trusting people. You must be special."

He doesn't reply to that, instead he thinks about how he has broken that trust and he wonders if it will ever return again. What he needs, he thinks, is an ally. He glances at the woman next to him who is staring out the side window. She turns back and catches his glance.

"I don't think I'm a fan of alligators," he quips.

She laughs. "I'm with ya, on that one."

Bridgewater Inlet State Park

Dave and Emily enter the bathroom where the latest victim went missing. Emily looks at the sink area as Dave moves to the toilets.

"So yesterday afternoon, Tracey Lambert told her roommate she was going for a hike," Prentiss tells him.

"He was waiting for her."

"A blitz attack," Prentiss agrees. "Probably like Abby Kelton's at the gas station."

Rossi pushes the door to the second stall. "Our, umm, unsub was likely in a mental hospital."

Prentiss walks over. "Why do you say that?"

"One neat aspect," he says as he steps back to give her room. A row of neatly stacked books sits on the back of the toilet. "The severely mentally ill have chaos all around them. When institutionalized they're given order, taught to keep their rooms clean and neat. When discharged, they stop taking their meds. Their minds fall back into chaos, but often they do one thing to keep some order back in it."

"Ok. I'll call Garcia, tell her to check state mental records," she tells him. She pulls out her phone and heads outside. "Hey."

Dave wanders out of the building behind Emily. To the left, he sees several patrol cars and SUV's pull into the park. The rest of the team has arrived. He heads over to talk with Hotch about his suspicions.

"What have you found," Hotch asks as Dave approaches.

"I think our guy was in a state mental hospital."

"Yeah?"

Dave nods. "Prentiss is calling Garcia right now, trying to get us a lead."

"You look at the jeep yet," Hotch asks. He points to the abandoned car.

"No. I'm going back into the bathroom," Dave replies. "We should get a search going, in case she is hiding here in the park somewhere. Or our guy may have left evidence behind."

Hotch nods. "I'll speak with the detective."

Hotch strides over to the detective who is talking with several police officers. Dave glances around, making note of how isolated it is in this area.

End Chapter 19