Author's note:
Part of me wanted to abandon this story after hearing the depressing news of the departure of my favorite character. But I'm glad I didn't. That said, I don't know that I'm writing this quite as I would be had the state of the show not changed.
It is what it is, and hopefully somebody out there can still get something out of it. In any case, we're nearing the end… Feedback would be lovely.
Stalker
Chapter Six
There was shocked silence.
Utter confusion.
Then, a comment from Morgan that Will had an accomplice.
And then there was yelling.
Emily: "Why is it so hard for you to accept that maybe -"
Morgan: "All I'm sayin' here is that there's too much evidence -"
Emily: "Evidence? Suppositions! Guesses! There's no real evidence that Will had anything to do with -"
Morgan: "Forgive me if I'm not a rose-colored glasses kind of guy!"
Then Rossi: "It would be unusual for this kind of stalker to have an accomplice -"
And Morgan: "You see anything usual about any of this?"
Reid squeaked "Um, guys?"
And Hotch took pity on him, and finally spoke up himself:
"Enough." It was firm, and it caught them, even at a lower volume. "We're not getting anywhere."
They were silent for a moment, then Reid noted:
"None of this makes any sense."
"No it doesn't," Hotch agreed. "But one thing that seems pretty clear is that we were lured here. That might be good news for our victim -"
"And bad news for JJ," Reid pointed out.
"It might be," Hotch allowed. "We need to figure out the why. We need to go over everything with fresh eyes."
He started grabbing folders and papers, then added:
"And we need to find JJ. Now."
…
JJ was driving.
And reeling.
Which probably wasn't a good combination.
She tried to force herself to focus on the road.
And Henry.
She'd get to him, put everything else away.
Will, the team. Nightmares. Reality.
Danger.
It'd all have to wait.
She couldn't let any of it in anymore.
Henry was still simple.
So she'd get to him, hold him in her arms, and maybe get an hour of sleep tonight.
The sudden ring of her phone jarred her.
Emily.
(Again.)
JJ reached over and switched off her phone.
…
"Her stuff is still in her hotel room," Reid announced, phone to his ear. "But she's not."
"Second SUV's gone," Morgan told them, coming back from outside.
Then Emily spoke up, dropping her phone on to the table in frustration: "She's still not answering."
Hotch took it all in, instructed Morgan: "Get Garcia tracking that car."
Then Hotch took a seat, and the others followed suit.
"Calmly," Hotch warned them, "Let's talk this through."
"Neither case made sense," Morgan offered. "Now we know why."
"But he was stalking JJ at home. Why draw her here?" Hotch questioned.
"If this is Will and an accomplice?" Reid jumped in. "Then he needed her here because he was going to be here."
"He was the one who pressed for this trip," Emily told them. "Why would he complicate things for himself like that?"
"Maybe he figures, things happen to her while he's away, he's free and clear as a suspect," Morgan suggested.
And Emily was incredulous:
"So he attacks her here?"
"Maybe he thinks he's still far enough away that nobody makes the connection. Maybe he's got a wingman who's breaking the rules. Maybe -"
"'Maybes' aren't getting us anywhere," Rossi cut in. "Point is that we were lured here, which makes the little girl a side note and JJ their focus. Now, whether Will's involved or not, the fact that he was coming south is in all likelihood why JJ had to, too. Which means, if it's not him -"
Reid's eyes were wide, as he finished the thought for Rossi:
"It's probably someone he knows."
They were quiet for a moment, and then a thought hit Emily:
"Damn," she half whispered, half breathed. And at their looks, she explained: "The night that last photo was taken, Will had friends in town. They'd all been drinking."
They all realized what that could mean, but Rossi said it out loud:
"So the odds that someone else could have made his way to her bedside to snap that photo just gained a little ground."
"Guys," Reid got their attention, "I think, I mean, she's probably going for Henry. Where else, right? If she's feeling betrayed, and… That's where she'd go, right?"
"Very possibly," Hotch allowed.
"So then…" Reid continued. "I mean, I guess it's a bit… alarmist, maybe, since we don't know who, but… is anyone else feeling a bit… concerned? 'Cause when we checked out Will's alibi? It turned out he was camping with friends, right? But the thing is, he also left Henry with friends. Do we really… do we really want her heading in that direction?"
It didn't necessarily have to mean anything.
But it wasn't comforting, either.
Hotch asked: "Have we got a location on the vehicle yet?"
And Morgan looked ready to smash his own cell phone as he complained:
"The one damn time Penelope Garcia doesn't pick up her phone."
"Call Kevin," Hotch instructed, "Tell him it's a personal favor -"
"No need," Rossi broke in.
And they all turned to find Garcia making her way toward them.
"I've been too far, for too long, with far too much going on," Garcia announced. "And these commercial flight attendants have no mercy with the cell phone rule."
She glanced around, asked them:
"Where's my girl?"
…
Sitting in her 'borrowed' bureau car, outside the house where her family was apparently staying, JJ found that she couldn't move.
Will might still be camping.
He might also be in the house.
And while she was almost completely certain he was innocent – and probably would have been completely certain if she hadn't seen all the things she'd seen over the years – she still wasn't sure she wanted to face him.
She wouldn't be able to tell him.
'Hey, Honey, I can't ever let you touch me again' – that wasn't an easy conversation to have.
It felt like a coward's move, but she grabbed her cell phone, and dialed his.
She needed to know. Where he was, what to expect.
She was immediately informed by a mechanical voice that the person she was trying to reach was unavailable.
Which was strange.
Will's phone was always on.
But maybe it meant he had no cell signal, and he'd turned off his phone to save the battery.
Maybe he wasn't here, and she could make the last few steps to her son in peace.
She stepped out of the car and noticed for the first time that there were other cars lining the street, and wondered if Will's oldest pals were gathered together for drinks tonight.
It wasn't ideal.
But better a house full of friendly acquaintances than a man she couldn't look in the eye.
She started toward the front door.
…
The team was on the road in two SUVs.
Hotch and Reid listened to Rossi make a phone call as their vehicle raced down the road:
"No, she hasn't broken any laws – No, we can't say for sure that any danger is imminent, but what I'm asking is – Yes, I know, it's 'damn late', Detective, but this is from one law enforcement officer to another, asking for a favor for yet another law enforcement officer, because we can't get to her as soon as you can!" He was silent for a moment, then added curtly: "It would be nice if you could get around to it!"
He hung up abruptly.
"Locals say they'll check on her."
Hotch pressed:
"But?"
"His tone says 'eventually'."
Hotch stepped on the gas.
…
Morgan drove the other vehicle, with Emily in the passenger seat and Garcia in the back.
He wondered, vaguely, if anyone had thought to call any of this in, or what they would have said.
It was a damn strange night.
And a tense one, too.
Emily spoke up, suddenly but quietly, a hitch in her voice:
"We're gonna lose her."
Morgan shook his head:
"Don't go there, Em."
Emily shot an apologetic glance into the back seat, where she knew Garcia's heart was likely breaking at the thought, before she continued:
"I keep trying… but I can't see this ending any other way."
"We'll get there!" Morgan insisted. "Whoever this guy is, he doesn't even know that we're on to this. He's not gonna -"
"That's not what I mean," Emily cut in.
They were all silent for a long moment, before Emily finally admitted:
"If I was JJ? If I'd been through… what she's been through?" Silence, again. Then: "I don't mean feeling betrayed. I don't mean us not believing in her." She paused again, because they'd all been avoiding the word since it had happened to one of their own. "I mean the rape. I mean that I don't know that I could get up in the morning and look at all the things we have to look at and deal with all the things we have to deal with… and put ourselves in all the situations, that we have to put ourselves in…"
She waited, but Morgan didn't do anything but stare out at the road and clench the steering wheel harder.
"I don't like it any better than you do," Emily told him, tears blurring her view of the passing roadside. "But even if we get there… even if we get this guy… even if nothing else happens… I can't shake this feeling. We're gonna lose her."
There was something like a sob from the back seat.
And Emily forced herself to backtrack out of the doom that had been settling on her for days:
"Penelope… I'm sorry. Maybe I've just seen too much of her, these last few days. We've been in the same hotel room… maybe I've been too close. Maybe she's even stronger than we think. Maybe if nothing else happens -"
"Nothing else is going to happen," Morgan declared, stepping harder on the gas. "Nothing else is gonna happen."
…
JJ said quick hellos and how-are-yous to the gathered poker players when she entered the house.
They confirmed for her that Will hadn't arrived back yet, but that he was expected soon.
It put a knot in the pit of her stomach for a moment, until Mara Jenison told her she'd had a phone call.
Mara was the only woman in the room, an old friend of Will's going back as far as high school.
JJ forced a smile:
"Someone from work?"
"An Agent Reid, kind of excitable, you ask me. Asked if you were here, said he thought you were coming. Said to tell you, if you showed up here, that they were all sorry, said you would know what it was about. Said to tell you and only you, which was the strange part, really, that they cracked your case wide open, and that you should call, even if you're angry."
JJ managed to keep her face even.
She hid the relief that coursed through her.
Will had nothing to do with anything.
The team had a real line on her stalker.
It was a moment before she could breathe.
And then she managed to nod and thank the woman, and assure her she would call.
Which she would, eventually.
But it was late, and she didn't want to deal with any of it tonight.
She'd let the team catch whoever it was they were getting close to catching.
Let herself have a chance at a decent night's sleep.
And tomorrow she'd figure it all out. Who owed who thank-yous and apologies, where she stood with the team. And for that matter, with her career.
It was a mess. And it would have to wait.
JJ asked where to find her sleeping son, then started up the stairs.
She saw nothing of the man sitting at the head of the poker table with an ace-high flush he hadn't even seen.
She had no idea he'd gone stock-still and deathly pale at Mara's words.
And she'd never been close enough to see the birthmark on his neck.
…
It was Clint McAllister's house, and when the poker game broke up and the house began to empty out, he invited JJ to stay the night and wait for Will.
It was Clint McAllister's house, but it was Mara Jenison who offered to make up a bed for her.
Clint wasn't much for 'women's work'.
JJ had never liked him, or the aging southern stereotype he clung to.
But he'd known Will forever, and Henry was asleep in his house, so she declined Mara's offer and accepted Clint's, happy to slip into the same guest bed as her son and keep him close.
Now, the house was quiet and Henry was fast asleep and burrowed against her side.
And the mess that was her life was still a mess.
But for the moment, it hurt less.
She took in a deep breath.
Reveled at being able to do so.
Kissed the top of Henry's head, let her eyes drift shut.
Let the warmth and weight and comfort of sleep overcome her.
And it was nice.
It was peaceful.
It was beautiful.
But a floorboard squeaked. Outside the bedroom door.
And that was all it took.
Her attention snapped right back into focus.
Her heartbeat sped up.
And she told herself it was probably just Clint using the bathroom.
But she was at the end of the hall. No one should have been outside that door.
And someone was.
She couldn't move.
The door swung open while she watched.
Clint McAllister was standing there.
Nothing short of murder in his eyes.
And in his right hand - a gun.
…
They were idiots, Will thought for the hundredth time, looking over at his oldest friend, Shane, behind the wheel.
They were too damn old to enjoy this like they had when they were kids.
They'd been caught in the rain, had their dinner stolen by a bear, and tipped their canoe into the water – with their cell phones in their pockets.
Then they'd had an hour-long fight about whose fault it had been.
They were, indeed, idiots.
But he knew, looking over at his buddy, that it could have been funny.
He'd been too tense, too busy worrying about why JJ had barely returned his calls.
Something was wrong, he knew.
He just didn't know what, and damn if it didn't grate on him.
"Shane, I've been a jackass," he admitted out loud.
His friend guffawed, told him:
"That ain't new."
Shane's smile said he was far less irrated than Will himself.
And as if to confirm it, he clapped Will on the shoulder, told him:
"Buck up, we're almost home."
…
"What's she, like, sitting in front of the house?" Reid queried out loud. "All this time?"
"The car hasn't moved?" Hotch asked from the driver's seat of their vehicle.
"It hasn't," Reid confirmed.
Hotch instructed:
"Try the house again. We're almost there."
…
JJ was struck by one thing.
Two things, maybe.
All-consuming fear, yes.
But under that, an irony.
For hours that evening, all she'd wanted was to have her son right there by her side.
Now, she would have given her right arm to have him anywhere else.
Somewhere downstairs, a phone rang.
Clint didn't even seem to hear it.
He was staring at her quietly, with seething eyes.
She'd never liked him, but she'd never seen him like this.
Would never have thought he was her stalker, if this moment hadn't announced it to her.
For all her years working with profilers, she had no idea how to talk him down.
But she had a goal, and she started with:
"Whatever our problem is, Will's son has no part in it."
'Will's son' - she said it consciously. Hoped it would help.
But Clint came back with quiet fury:
"You took a man who could kill a chicken with his bare hands and drink any man in the room under the table, and you made him your bitch."
JJ blinked, struggled to process that.
She'd… ruined Will? That was Clint's problem?
All this to break them up?
Or was this punishment, for being a career-driven mom?
She could hear Hotch's voice inside her head: "It only has to make sense to him."
And if she was going to get Clint out of this room where her son slept, she'd have to play along.
If she could make her voice work.
"I've made some bad choices," she allowed. "I'm sorry."
His seething glare didn't break, and he didn't speak.
So she continued, feeling her heart squeeze at the sight of Henry beginning to stir:
"You're probably right. Will… might be better off. He could live without me. Maybe he should. But he can't live without his son. He loves this boy."
"You really are a bitch and a half, aren't you?" Clint muttered. "You think you know Will better than me? Which one of us sat up all damn night last year, listening to that sweet guy, the one you're too good to marry, pour out his damn heart?"
Somewhere, under the fear and desperation that were making it so hard to keep her voice even, JJ bristled with guilt. Wondered if there was any truth to Clint's words.
But it wasn't the point.
"I'm going to ask you, for Will's sake, to take me somewhere else. To leave his boy out of it."
Clint said nothing.
He just moved his finger to the trigger.
And JJ could see it in his eyes –
It was almost over.
And Henry was waking up.
And her son was going to see this.
And so it killed her, but she forced the word from her mouth:
"Please."
She hated the break in her voice.
She hated, with everything in her, to beg this man.
And the words she had to say, they only got harder:
"I'll do whatever you want. I'll let you do whatever you want." She whispered, closing her eyes tight: "I won't fight you."
And it was the best and the worst thing to say to him.
Because he leaned in.
Fixed her with a challenging glare.
And whispered:
"You think I can't do it?"
And suddenly he was dragging her from the room.
…
Will and his buddy Shane were mere blocks from their pal Clint`s place when Will took note of the two identical Suburbans speeding past them.
They looked familiar.
And a chill shot through him.
"Speed up!"
Shane turned, looked at him in confusion.
"What`s your hurry -"
"Just step on it!"
…
Henry was elsewhere.
She'd accomplished that much.
But as they reached the bottom of the staircase, Clint was pulling at his belt.
And she wanted to scream and cry and vomit and curse the world.
Instead she fought.
He had a gun, and she didn`t care.
She kicked at his shins, tried to knee him the groin, bit down on his arm – hard –
- and received a slap in the face.
And then he was looming over her.
And moonlight glinted off his gun.
And headlights swept the room – once, twice – three times –
And there were panicked voices outside -
And Clint took aim –
And there was a rush of footsteps, a blur of clothes –
- A gunshot –
Then a groan of pain.
And it took JJ only a moment.
Just a moment, to realize that the pained cry had not been her own.
…
