Sorry for not updating in awhile. I had a research paper to write that was really kicking my butt. As a reward for turning it in, I decided to post this chapter. Weirdly enough, now that it's the holidays, I'll have way more time to write, so expect more frequent updates?

Cammi watched the police station empty before her. Every single one of those officers was out to arrest the man who had destroyed her family. Agent Jareau had already made an appearance on the news stating that the individual in question should be considered very dangerous.

Strapping on their bulletproof vests, the team prepared to enter the ramshackle warehouse that someone had converted into a car repair shop. A robust man wearing a greasy white shirt and torn jeans stepped out of the shop, trembling hands raised over his head. Emily rolled her eyes. Someone had obviously been watching too many cop movies.

"Is Marcus Wilson here?" Hotch asked. The man, whom they assumed was the owner of the shop, shook his head.

"Haven't seen that bastard in weeks. Didn't expect him to be workin' here long anyways."

"Did he provide an address when you gave him the job?"

The man shook his head, finally lowering his hands. Emily watched Morgan take a few other officers in to search the premises before confirming what they already suspected. The SOB knew that they were on to him, and was skipping town before they could arrest him. And, since Garcia hadn't been able to find any other information on him, they were back to square one in terms of catching him.

A dejected Emily joined Hotch a few moments later in the SUV.

"We'll catch him," he assured her in a rare show of optimism.

"I'll just keep telling myself that," she replied with half a smile. "I just hate going back in there and telling that poor girl that we didn't find her family's killer."

He knew his next statement wouldn't make her happy, so he chose his words carefully. "You're getting really attached to that girl."

Emily shrugged. "It's easy for me to form connections with kids. I don't know why."

"Because you're good with them," Hotch surprised himself by admitting. It was true, very true, though he'd never said it out loud. "Just be careful."

Emily turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Eyes still on the road, Hotch said, "Don't get too attached. When this whole thing is over, we have to go home and she had to go with whatever family Child Services can find."

Emily had been forming thoughts on that, though none she would like to voice aloud at the moment. She couldn't bear to see a girl as sweet as she knew Cammi could be shipped off to some foster home. In the experiences she had faced through her job, she knew those situations weren't always pretty.

Though what exactly could she do about it? That was what she was working on as Hotch took them through the winding streets of Sunset Falls.

Cammi watched the team file in the doors, trying and failing to conceal the dejected looks on their faces. She sighed. So somewhere Marcus Wilson was still running amok.

"He's a little slippery," Emily said in response to her sullen face, "but more often than not we catch them."

Never one for the glass half empty outlook, Cammi clung to the hope that they would.

Emily met Hotch at a cozy diner located near the hotel, and, well, everything else considering the size of the town. Dinner together had been the norm for them for awhile now, especially on the nights when Emily would watch Jack when Hotch's workload proved too much to handle if he still wanted to go home at a decent hour. However, it wasn't something they did on cases, at least not alone. Tonight the rest of the team had turned in early, sensing the turn this case would be taking. Emily herself had a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't fathom why.

"I can't believe this," Emily huffed when she sat down. "He's probably right under our noses here. I don't get the feeling that he's gone."

Hotch shook his head. While they had no way of knowing for sure, there was a strange vibe around the town. He still felt the shadow seeping into cracks in the buildings, felt the chill that told him someone was laying in wait, just out of sight.

"He's probably holed up somewhere, waiting for us to stop investigating so close to him," Hotch suggested.

"What I don't get," Emily said, "is why he came back for Cammi. He had to know she couldn't be dead, and he definitely knew she was in the house. Why didn't he get her then?"

Hotch shrugged. "I think it's because she looks like his sister," he suggested. "Which means he'll probably be back. It's probably set off some sort of sick fantasy he has to complete. In fact, we could probably use her to draw him out."

Emily's eyes narrowed. She didn't like his train of thought. Not one bit. "We couldn't use her like that. It was bad enough to see her face when we were trying to question her. We can't put her in danger like that!"

Hotch put up his hands in surrender. "It was just a thought," he said. "And we would do it in a way that wouldn't put her in danger."

"Any way would be putting her in danger!" Emily said in exasperation.

"Still, that might be what we need to do to catch this guy," Hotch pointed out. "And isn't that what Cammi wants anyway?"

Back at the station, Cammi wrapped her hoodie tighter around her shoulders. She wasn't quite ready to go to sleep yet. She wasn't sure she ever would be. Every time her eyes closed, blood would stain her dreams. How could anyone possibly sleep with images like that invading her nightmares? She refused to see it again, refused to relive the worst night of her life.

Sipping a mug of hot chocolate, she stood. There was something on the window, and it was bothering her. Perhaps a smudge of dirt. Crossing the room in a few quick strides, she reached to wipe it off before discovering that the object of her distaste was in fact a sheet of paper taped to the outside, fluttering in the breeze.

Christie,

I'm sorry our last meeting didn't go as planned. I want to see you again. How about tonight, by the cemetery on Cutler Street? If you meet me there, everything will stop, I promise. I just need to see you again. Don't let those cops follow you. I could never hurt you, you know that.

Your brother

Cammi allowed the note to fall to the ground. Who was Christie? The name sounded familiar. Maybe the agents had mentioned it during their investigation.

She wondered why the note had been left here, of all places. The only person who had set foot in this room for the past few hours was…her. What if the note was intended for her?

At once, Cammi made her decision. She would have to meet him. He was probably watching, waiting for her to meet him before staking out another family to kill. And if he thought she was someone else, someone he loved, he wouldn't hurt her. Really, nobody would lose. They would catch the guy and put him in jail and he would stop killing.

Cammi didn't indulge in thoughts other than simple instructions from her mind to her body on how to escape. Carefully, she propped open the window, raising a leg over the sill. Too easy. Landing delicately in a cluster of leaves, Cammi took off across the lawn. Cutler Street was a fifteen minute walk. If she hurried, she could meet him there before the police officers were any the wiser. Hopefully the agents would figure it out if things went south.

Besides, even if he did hurt her, would it matter? What did she have left to live for anyway?

Well, even if it wasn't my best chapter, I'm planning more, and hopefully better, to come. Please tell me what you think!