Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Thanks to all those that have reviewed!
The next morning, the sun rose in a clear sky, promising another day of oppressive heat. When the students of Pico Aldo College left at the term's end, the town felt emptier, leaving the sun to illuminate carless streets. The newest edition of the town newspaper would be distributed within a few moments and, as per JJ's recommendations, had written an article on the case, leaving out select details, of course. Most of the residents felt Pico Aldo was like a ghost town during the summer months without the loud, boisterous presence of the students, and that feeling was magnified now that there was a malevolent spirit sauntering among them, stalking and killing.
But the streets were not entirely carless, even at this early hour.
A white van drove down Main Street. The man behind the wheel was tall, and his build was hard to determine under the layers of clothing that he wore, even in the summer heat. A worn baseball cap with the slogan 'Go Bearcats'—the Pico Aldo College football team—was jammed on his head, covering short-cropped, curly grey hair. The pair of aviator sunglasses he wore was the only thing that did not seem out of place in the bright California sun, though the dark lenses blocked his eyes entirely.
On the seat next to him lay a small rectangular package, about the size of a paper-back book, and carefully wrapped in brown paper. Very carefully. It had no return address written, and no stamps. Scrawled in the middle in blocky red letters that would suit a child more than the grown man who wrote them, was an address.
The man intended to deliver this package personally.
Aaron Hotchner had just stepped out of the shower and was in the process of shaving when his phone rang.
"Dammit," he said under his breath; the blade had slipped as he reached for the phone sitting on the counter, nicking his neck. A few drops of blood fell, standing out in vivid red contrast against the white, porcelain sink. He fumbled the phone open and held it next to his head with his shoulder, getting a little shaving cream on the dail-pad.
"This is Agent Hotchner speaking."
"Agent Hotchner, this is Wayne," Hotch thought he detected a slight tremor in the sheriff's voice, which from his earlier impression of the man, seemed out of character.
"Good morning, Sheriff Wayne," Hotch said, sticking a tab of tissue paper on his shaving cut to stop the bleeding. "Like I said yesterday, we're coming in at eight to give a preliminary profile. Can this wait--?"
"He sent a video," Wayne said, stressing the last word. "The sick fuck sent Tony Sterling's family a video."
"Wayne," Hotch said to the obviously distressed man. "Do you have the tape? Did the family watch it?"
"Yeah, we have it," Wayne paused. "The kid's father opened it and…well, we have him pretty calm now. The tranquilizer helped."
"We'll be right over."