Chapter 20 – Act as if You Have Faith
Episode - Lucky
Dave stands in the bathroom leaning against the wall and stares at the bathroom stalls as a local cop dusts the doors for prints.
"You sleeping?" Emily asks as she sidles up next to him.
"I've slept in some strange places, but a public restroom is not on that list," he tells her. "I'm trying to figure out how he surprised her. Did she know he was in the restroom?"
"He could have been in another stall," she suggests.
"You'd see his feet under the door," he answers as he points to the opening under the stall.
"True," she nods. "So, he was hiding outside and followed her in?"
Dave pushes off the wall and gently opens the door. He peers at the toilet, then looks back at Emily. "What if he was in here," he says following up on her earlier suggestion. "Standing on the toilet?"
She joins him and examines the stall. "That's a good possibility. Lessens his chances of being seen while waiting outside."
Dave looks at the officer processing the other stall. "Is there any way you can tell if he as standing on the toilet?"
The officer nods. "Possibly. Depending on how he was standing, he may have left shoeprints. I'll check it after I'm done with this stall."
"Good. Thank you."
"I'll dust the walls for prints too," the officer continues.
"The walls?"
The officer points to the sides of the stall. "If he was on the toilet, he may have had to balance himself."
"Good point," Dave smiles. "Thanks again."
"That would be great if we got a print to go off of," Emily surmises. "What about the books? Any chance we can get a print there as well?"
The officer shakes his head. "The type of material used for the cover doesn't allow for prints to adhere to them."
She nods and looks at Dave.
"Good thought," Dave tells her.
"Is there anything else we may have missed in here," she asks in general.
"I don't think so. Let's go outside and look for anything else we may have missed, give the officer some room to work in here," Dave suggests.
Later at the Park
They stand just outside the bathroom and look around.
"He'd have to park somewhere close by," Emily states.
"Close enough to not be seen carrying a body, but far enough that she wouldn't see the car when she pulled up," Dave agrees.
"And probably not off the road where she came in. If I was alone and saw a car on the side of the road near where I wanted to go, I wouldn't stop," Emily capitulates.
"So, over this way," Dave says. He points to the right, away from the jeep and all the local cops. They move in that direction. "Watch where you step, just in case he left tread marks or shoeprints."
"Gotcha."
They walk at least a hundred yards without finding anything.
"The ground here is so hard packed," Emily points out.
"This reminds me a bit of Vietnam," Dave shares. Emily looks at him wide-eyed.
"How long were you there?"
He snorts. "Long enough. The trees and vegetation are so dense, he could have carried her to the road."
"He'd have to know the area well," she muses. "And if he is a local…"
"It might narrow things down."
"How so?"
"A local in Bridgewater who knows the local parks and spent time in a mental facility? That can't be too many people," he replies.
"We are in Florida," she jokes. "It could be everybody."
Later still
Dave and Emily re-join the team as the volunteers begin to arrive and sign-in. Emily goes to the table and stands between Reid and JJ checking I.D.'s of the volunteers. Dave stands to the side and scans the crowd, looking for anyone who stands out from the others. Since they don't have a physical description to go by, it could be any of the men in the crowd or even a few of the women.
He glances to his left as movement catches his eye. Morgan circles Father Marks, eyeing the priest carefully as if he, Morgan, would catch fire if he moved too close. Dave smirks as he takes in the younger agents' antics.
The frantic screech of a whistle catches Dave's ear. He looks at the others who have heard it as well.
"Where is that coming from," Hotch demands.
"This way," Derek shouts as he takes off running down a pathway to the South. The team follows.
"Stop," Hotch shouts. They halt. "Morgan, Rossi – find out what's happening. The rest of us need to stay here."
"Got it," Dave responds. He races after the younger agent barely keeping the man in sight.
A half mile down the trail, they find a small group of searchers, one of whom is frantic.
"What happened," Morgan demands. "What did you find?"
"Cheryl, my wife – she's missing," the frantic man cries. "Cheryl!"
"Calm down, please," Derek tells him. "Tell us exactly what happened."
"I don't know," the man responds.
One of the other searchers, a boy of about seventeen, speaks up. "We were all walking down this trail, calling for Tracey. I thought Cheryl was with us, then I heard him calling for her. We stopped to wait for her to catch up or call out, but she didn't."
"I started blowing my whistle at that point," the other searcher, a man in his thirties, says.
Dave pulls out his phone and calls Hotch.
"What do you got, Dave?"
"One of the searchers has gone missing," Dave says tersely.
"Missing?"
"Yeah," Dave sighs. "Do we have a dog you can send down here?"
Dave hangs up the phone and pockets it. "Is this exactly where you were when you noticed she was missing?"
The three men nod.
"Where exactly was the last place you remember seeing her," he asks.
"Back there by that curve in the trail," the frantic man responds.
Dave and Morgan share a look. Dave turns to the other two men. "Can you take him back to the sign-in tent? You all need to wait there."
"I'm not going anywhere," the frantic man shouts. "Not without my wife. Cheryl! Cheryl!"
"Sir! Sir," Morgan shouts getting the man's attention. "I know you want to find your wife, we do. Now we have a tracking dog coming and the fewer people here, the less confused the dog will be. The best thing you can do right now is to go back to the sign-in tent and talk to one of the agents there. Tell them about Cheryl, what she was wearing – anything that will help us find her, okay? Can you do that?"
The man nods. He follows the other two men back up the trail.
"This isn't good," Morgan says.
"Pretty ballsy of this guy," Dave agrees. "He snatches a new victim right under the noses of the FBI."
Derek shakes his head and checks his anger. "I knew this wasn't a good idea, using the church people to search the area."
Dave nods. "Yeah, but it does limit our suspect pool."
"True."
"We believe this guy is working alone, he'd have to have gotten away from his group to grab Cheryl," Dave points out.
Morgan rubs his head. "Now we have to interview all the searchers! This is going to suck."
Two local officers arrive, one has a German Shepherd on a leash.
"The victim was last seen by that bend in the trail," Dave tells the officers. "No idea which way she went from there."
They watch as the dog circles the area at the bend then cuts off the trail and enters the brush. Both agents follow a few paces behind the officers. The dog cuts in about twenty feet from the trail, then runs parallel to the trail for about thirty feet. He then starts circling again and heads back in the direction he started, only to lay down a few minutes later.
"There are some marks on the ground where he turned around," the dog handler tells them.
Dave and Morgan investigate the marks.
"He must have hit her here, then drug her to a spot where he could pick her up and carry her off," Derek surmises.
"Strong and ballsy, great," Dave snarks. "We should head back it's starting to get dark."
"Yeah. We've got a lot of work to do," Morgan states.
Dave looks at the dog handler. "You should take a stroll past all the volunteer's cars, see if the dog gets a hit off of anything."
The officer nods and leads the way up the trail with his dog. The other officer follows him.
Back at the police station
Dave grabs a cup of coffee and takes a drink as Hotch joins him.
"Ready for the longest night of our lives," Dave asks.
"It's not going to happen," Hotch smiles.
"What do you mean?"
"I told the detective to let the volunteers go home," Hotch tells him.
"What? Why would you do that," Dave argues.
"Apparently some of them had already left. They got spooked or whatever," Hotch sighs. "We need to do this our way."
"Well, hopefully Morgan gets something from Father Marks then."
"We'll see," Hotch agrees.
Outside the Bridgewater Police Station
Dave exits the police station, steps past Morgan, and leans against the glass next to the young profiler. "Father Marks seemed pretty shaken up when he left."
"Yeah, well, he had enough reason to be."
"You're still pissed I threw you under the bus with him yesterday," Dave muses.
"Am I," Morgan asks.
Dave looks at him. "You know, in my day, if your partner made a request like that – well, I was giving you a chance for personal growth."
Morgan lets the statement linger in the air for a moment. He steps away from the glass wall and turns to look at the older man. "I get you, Dave. You're not a mystery to me, man. They said you couldn't interview serial killers. You did. They said you couldn't put together a profiling team. You did. They said there was no way in hell you would ever come back here. You did. It's in your nature, Rossi. It's who you are."
Dave takes the profile in stride. "Well, if you knew all that, why would you tell me you didn't want to talk to the priest?"
"I was giving you an opportunity for personal growth," Morgan snarks. He walks past Dave, heading towards the parking lot.
"Where you going?" Dave asks even though he already knows the answer.
Morgan turns around. "To apologize."
Dave smiles and nods as Derek resumes his trek to the lot. A few steps away, he turns around and comes back.
"You know, Rossi. It wouldn't hurt you to do some apologizing too," Morgan tells the older man.
Dave tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, for what?"
"Lying to all of us," Morgan says cryptically.
"Excuse me? What have I lied about?"
"Your girlfriend," Morgan teases. "You've been keeping her a secret, but we all know."
"What the hell are you talking about," Dave growls. Does everyone know about he and Penelope?
"That woman, the one who hid in your office."
Dave scoffs and shakes his head. "She's not my girlfriend."
"That's not what I heard. She told Anderson that the two of you have been together for years," Derek replies.
Dave huffs. His face hardens as he thinks about Bren. "She's my manager. I'm not in the least interested in anything more with her."
"She seems pretty interested in something more with you," Morgan presses. Derek studies Dave for several seconds. "Something has changed in you, man. Something for the good, I think."
Dave chuckles and shakes his head. "You don't know me as well as you think you do."
"You don't think so?"
"I've sat across from some of the smartest and most devious people on the planet," Dave points out. "If they can't get me, neither can you."
"Maybe you're right," Derek says. He turns away then stops.
"What's the matter," Dave asks after a few seconds.
Derek slowly turns around, his face a mixture of wonderment, joy, and disgust. "You've got it bad for Garcia, don't you?"
Dave stares at him. He wills himself to stay calm even though his heart just jumped from zero to a hundred.
"Yeah, I can see it," Derek grins. "That explains a lot. I don't blame you, man. She is something special. I love her."
Dave straightens from the wall.
"Don't get upset. I love her but I could never give her the happiness she deserves. But you, you may have a shot."
"You think so," Dave says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What makes you think I'm interested in her and why do you think I would be good for her? She's nothing like the women I date."
Morgan purses his lips and nods. "I've been trying to figure out why you went to Penelope's office that night your "not-girlfriend", came by."
Dave shifts and stuffs his hands in his pocket.
Morgan grins. "You wanted to make certain you and Garcia were okay. But you're not, are you? She throw the stapler at you?"
Dave glances at Morgan then looks away and shrugs.
"She's thrown that at me a few times as well," Morgan laughs. "You need to fix this, otherwise you may lose her for good."
With that, Derek walks away. Dave watches him disappear. He continues to stand outside the police station and think about the situation with Penelope and the fact that this team seems able to read him very well. On one hand, he liked that they were so knowledgeable about profiling and on the other hand, he hated that they were so knowledgeable about profiling.
Several hours later
The team gathers in the small conference room. Morgan's discovery of another body at the church put the whole investigation into overdrive. The medical examiner was pulled out of bed to expedite the autopsy.
Emily walks into room, notebook in hand. "Dr. Fulton confirms it," she announces. "Maria Lopez was frozen shortly after her death."
"Well that explains why we haven't been able to find the other victims," Morgan states. "He's keeping them."
Looking up from the file in front of her JJ peers at Hotch and asks, "How did you get to cannibalism?"
"He didn't take them for sex and he took their legs," Hotch explains. "He was trying to tell us by feeding the fingers to Abby Kelton. Fingers were a message. I've killed before was part of it. I'm eating them was the other."
Rossi nods. "Cannibalism, the greatest taboo. That explains his need to blame his drive on an outside force."
JJ shudders. "Why would anyone want to eat human flesh?"
"It's like a sexual urge," Reid blurts out. "The cross wiring of the two most basic drives: sustenance and sex."
"It all fits," Morgan muses.
Emily's phone rings. "Hey, Garcia. I'm putting you on speaker."
She sets the phone on the table next to Dave's elbow.
The click-clack of typing is heard through the line, then Garcia speaks. "So, I can't find any patients in Florida who have the charming cocktail of being both a Satanist and a cannibal. However, Hazelwood Mental Institution is the place to go when looking for Florida's most dangerous kind of wackos, and they had a fire in 1998 that destroyed all their records."
"How far away is Hazelwood," Hotch asks.
Reid answers for her. "70 miles."
Hotch rises. "Uh, JJ, tell them we're on our way. Reid, let's do it."
Floyd Feylinn's House
Based on the name obtained by Hotch and Reid at the mental institution, Dave leads the team of agents along with local cops to the home of Floyd Feylinn. They search the main floor of the house to no avail. In the kitchen, Detective Jordan hears music coming from the basement. The team, Dave, Morgan, JJ, Emily, and the detective quickly move down the stairs.
Detective Jordan and JJ breach the first room, it's a walk-in freezer. JJ presses the detective to search the faces of the bodies hoping to find Tracey Lambert.
Dave and Emily search the next room. Cheryl Timmons lies face down on a makeshift bed inside a chain-link cell.
"Cheryl Timmons," Emily asks.
"Yes," the woman replies.
"You're safe now," Emily tells her. "Is Tracey Lambert here?"
"No."
Dave turns around and goes back to the hallway where Morgan waits. The two agents enter the last room where a man wearing shorts sits with his back to the door as he listens to music. Morgan handcuffs the man and pulls him to his feet.
"Where's Tracey Lambert," Dave asks.
The man looks at him with glassy eyes. Morgan drags him out of the room. Dave takes a moment to look around. He pulls a black notebook off the shelf and peruses the contents.
Bridgewater Police Station
Once they returned to the station, evidence in hand, they meet up with Hotch and Reid who had returned from the mental institution. Reid studies the art that had been handing on the wall in the room Feylinn was found in.
Hotch directs Morgan to conduct the interview. Dave watches as Morgan enters the room and sits down. He pauses for a moment before opening the book and asking about the recipes Feylinn had written down. Feylinn doesn't respond at first.
"Kobe Girl Steak, huh," Morgan starts. "That's where you massage the meat, right?"
Feylinn sits unresponsive.
"Floyd, these are some pretty unusual recipes you got here. You try 'em all?"
Morgan tries to catch Feylinn's eye.
"Hmm? Must have tried some of them, right? Talk to me. Which ones did you try?"
"They have a smiley face by them," Feylinn responds lowly. "Other's have a frowny face."
"They sure do," Morgan agrees as he flips through a few pages. "Why?"
"They didn't turn out so good."
"Well thank you for that," Morgan responds. "You hear voices, Floyd?"
"I'm not smart," Floyd answers. "But I have a smart friend who tells me things.
"What's your friend's name," Morgan asks.
"He wants me to tell you something."
"Tell me what?"
"Your watch has stopped."
Morgan glances at his watch then slowly eases back in his chair.
"He's trying to spook him," Dave says to Hotch on the other side of the glass window.
"Well, that won't work," Hotch murmurs.
The interview continues for a few minutes more until Feylinn asks to talk to Father Marks.
An hour later
Father Marks arrives at the police station. He and Morgan enter the interview room and sit down. Dave listens to the interview as his mind races. Something isn't right.
"This is strange," Dave states as he looks through the names from the volunteer sheet. "When he entered the park, Feylinn signed the volunteer sign-in sheet, but he's not on the list of searchers."
"Where is Tracey Lambert," Morgan demands.
Dave half-listens to the interview in the other room as his mind races for an answer. "Something's wrong."
"Father," Feylinn says quietly. "I feel so alone. I feel like God has abandoned me. Why?"
"You are not alone, my son," Father Marks answers. "God is in all of us."
In a split second, the answer is right in front of Dave. "We need to stop the interview." He races out the door.
"So is Tracey Lambert," Feylinn answers.
Dave runs down the short hallway and bursts into the interview room as Morgan pulls Father Marks off the table. He grabs the priest and helps remove him from the room.
It takes them several hours to calm Father Marks and the local cops before they could grab their stuff and go to the airport to head home.
On the Jet
Dave and Morgan sit across from one another on the plane.
"Blaming the devil for his cannibalism wasn't enough to lessen his guilt, so he tricked others into participating. He made them all as guilty as he was," Dave explains to the younger agent.
"He caught every break possible, Rossi. Gets released from the hospital. His records get destroyed. Gets pulled over with a victim in the trunk of his car and they let him go. I've never seen anyone that lucky," Morgan recounts.
"What's your point?"
Derek takes a breath. "You've been doing this a long time. You've seen a lot of things. You think it's possible that Feylinn would – I don't know, that he was getting some kind of help from something else?"
"It's irrelevant," Dave says dismissively. "The job is to find evil, to stop it, not to know where it came from. Let someone else take that job. This one's tough enough." He pauses. "You know, Reid was right."
"About?"
"If you believe in one, you have to believe in the other."
DC Airport
Once the plane lands in DC, the team disperses. Dave heads to his car, he opens the rear door and throws his bag on the seat.
"See you at the office," Hotch asks.
Dave turns around and shakes his head. "I already sent you my paperwork. I'm headed home."
"Home? You mean Virginia?"
Dave sighs. "Well, the only thing I have as a home at the moment – the hotel."
Hotch grins. "You need to find a house."
"Yeah, I suppose," Dave quietly agrees.
"What," Hotch challenges. "You going to live in an apartment?"
Dave shrugs. "I don't know what I'm doing yet. Have I passed probation?"
Hotch frowns. "We'll talk about it in the morning."
Dave nods. "Good night, Hotch."
"Night, Dave."
Both men get in their cars and drive off in separate directions. Dave drives to the hotel he has been calling home for a few weeks. He stops at the valet stand, gets out and retrieves his bag from the back seat. The valet hands him a tag before climbing behind the wheel of Dave's car.
Dave's Hotel
Dave enters the hotel and goes to the desk to retrieve his key. He glances at the bar and sees that Doris is working, he could use some company but she's not the company he wants to keep.
"Here's your key, Agent Rossi," she smiles. "Have a good night."
Dave takes the key and heads to the elevator, once inside he punches the number for the twelfth floor. As the doors close, he wonders why the attendant called him agent, he never told anyone here he was with the FBI.
Dave exits the elevator cautiously. He was probably just being paranoid. Maybe he had an admirer, other than Doris, at the hotel whom had recognized him? Maybe someone had called the hotel looking for him and… then why wouldn't they have left a message? He arrives at his room.
He checks the bottom of the door no lights are on. He listens for a moment but all he hears is the hum from the ice machine down the hallway. He slides the key into the lock, the door clicks. He puts his hand on his gun as he pushes the door open.
The room is quiet with the exception of the air conditioner. He steps inside and flips on the light.
"Dave," a female voice calls out sleepily.
He steps further into the room and finds Bren sitting on the bed. The bedding pools around her waist revealing her nude form.
"What the hell are you doing here," he asks angrily.
"Sleeping," she smiles at him. She lays back on the bed and throws the covers off. "Come join me."
Dave drops his bag on the floor. "And just why are you sleeping in my hotel room? How the fuck did you get in here?"
"You wouldn't come to me, so I had to come to you," she explains. "Why are you so mad?"
He rubs his hands on his face and starts pacing back and forth. "Why am I mad, she asks," he mumbles to himself. "Why am I mad?"
He stops pacing and glares at her. "You cannot, cannot intrude on my life like this. Are you fucking kidding! Why am I mad? First, you lie your way into the FBI and up to my office. You tell my colleagues that we are dating. We are not, by the way. And now, now you've broken into my hotel room. I should have you arrested."
She sits up and pouts at him. "You make me sound like a criminal. We have a relationship, Dave."
He sighs. "Yes, yes we do. And I'm sorry that it has been blurred from professional to personal. Bren, we… you're my manager. There cannot be an us."
"Why not? Many successful people have gone on and married their managers slash clients," she retorts. "Shall I name a few? Celine Dion? Randy Travis?"
He closes his eyes for a moment. "That's not going to be us," he tells her quietly.
She smiles and rises from the bed. "We are good together, Dave. In bed and out of it."
He shakes his head. "We were fuck buddies, Bren. That's all."
She moves closer reaching out for him. He grabs her arms holding her away from him.
"What part of this are you not understanding," he asks.
"If you'd just relax and let me show you what you've obviously forgotten about our sex life…"
"We are not sleeping together anymore," he shouts. He releases her arms and steps back. "You know what, fuck it! I'm done."
"What do you mean done," she questions.
"You're fired," he tells her.
"Wait, what? We have a contract. You can't just go out and find another manager," she says angrily.
"No worries, Bren. When I said I'm done, I mean done. I'm not writing anymore. No more books, no more tv appearances – nothing."
"Dave – this is your life…"
"No. Not anymore. That part of my life is over," he growls. "I'm going to step out onto the balcony and have a cigar. I expect you to be gone when I come back in."
Dave goes outside and sinks into one of the chairs. He pulls a cigar from his jacket pocket. His mind races as he thinks about how much his life has changed over the past few weeks. A few weeks, he thinks. He sighs. A lot has changed in a short amount of time.
Time passes as he puffs on the stogie and he eventually hears the click of the door to the hallway. Breaking things off with Bren, was the last thing he thought he would be doing tonight. But it was obvious that he should have done it sooner. He snubs out the cigar and heads back inside.
He picks up the house phone and dials the front office.
"Good evening, this is Sara," the girl at the front desk greets him.
"Hi Sara, is your manager available?"
"Yes, sir. One moment, please."
He listens to music while on hold.
"This is Scott, how may I help you?"
"Hi Scott. This is Dave Rossi in twelve-twenty-five. I had a visitor in my room tonight and I am not happy about it."
"Sir?"
"Someone working at the front desk gave a key to a woman claiming to be my girlfriend," Dave explains.
"I am very sorry, sir," the man apologizes quickly. "Do you need me to send security up there?"
"I've already kicked her out, but I would like a new room. And I want you to stress to your staff that no one is to be given a key to my room except me," Dave growls. "Is that understood?"
"Oh, yes sir! I can have you moved in a matter of minutes. Shall I send a valet for your bags?"
Ten minutes later, Dave walks into his new room on the fifteenth floor. This room is larger, with a kitchenette and a separate bedroom – upgraded to a suite. The valet places the bags in the bedroom.
"Would you like for me to unpack for you sir," the young man asks.
"No," Dave replies. He pulls out his wallet and fishes out a twenty-dollar bill. "Thanks. Have a good night."
The valet leaves. Dave secures the door and heads to the bedroom. It's been a long and arduous day and he just wants it to end. He secures his gun in his carryall, strips, and pads to the bathroom to take a shower.
Fifteen minutes later, he strolls out of the bathroom, still naked. His phone vibrates on the dresser. He opens it and sees that Hotch is calling him.
"Shit, can't I get a fucking break," he mutters. He opens the phone and answers gruffly. "Where we going this time?"
"Dave," Hotch says solemnly. "Penelope's been shot."
END CHAPTER 20