Sorry for the long delay between uploading this chapter and the last chapter. I started working at a group home this week so I have been too exhausted. I wanted to upload it last night when I finally finished but I always try to give myself a day between when I finish my first round of edits and when I do my final round of edits to help catch anything I missed. Some notes to make reading this chapter easier. First of all I apologize for jumping back and forth between Friday night and Saturday morning in the action. I hope it isn't too confusing. After this chapter I think there is only one more scene that happens on Friday night that I couldn't fit into this chapter for reasons that will become apparent later. Also anything in Italics means its happening inside a characters head: either a nightmare or a memory. Finally I promise JJ will appear again in the next chapter. I couldn't fit her into the action but they will need her expertise with the media soon enough. I also promise that the case is far from over and there will be more profiling to come!
Random note: The very last scene of this chapter was one of the first scenes I imagined when I was putting the idea for this story together.
Disclaimer: As always I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the Criminal Minds characters.
He followed the trail of blood. It started off as a single small drop here or there, but soon turned into a steady stream. By the time he reached the end of the trail he was face to face with what could only be described as a waterfall of blood, gushing down over the mouth of a cave. He approached slowly, nearer and nearer, straining this way and that, trying to see beyond the wall of blood...
Morgan woke with a start. Glancing at the clock next to him on the bedside table he saw it was only 5:30 but there was no way he saw himself returning to that fitful sleep and his blood-filled nightmares. Dragging himself out of bed he pulled on a change of clothes and thought back to the night before.
It had taken Garcia less than 5 minutes to send them preliminary information on George Stanley. Born in Augusta, raised by a single mom. Went missing at age 12 after being kidnapped by his paternal grandparents. Returned home a year later after a serious car accident killed the grandparents. Moved to Camden with his mom and lived there ever since. Inherited the house on Garrotview Lane when his mom passed away earlier that year. Nothing they had found connected him to the other victims so it seemed like maybe Reid's theory about the killer targeting transients was wrong. When he slammed the file down in frustration Hotch looked up from his own work and suggested that it was time for both of them to get some rest. When he asked about Reid and Elle Hotch suggested that if they got caught up somewhere they may have gone straight to the hotel. They would all rendezvous in the morning.
Snapping back to the present, Morgan decided to walk the couple of blocks to the station. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he never noticed that there was only one SUV in the parking lot.
-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-
The first thing Morgan noticed when he entered the station was Hotch and Detective Stanfield clustered over some files in the back conference room, the door having been left open. Greeting the officer on duty at the front desk Morgan headed to the break room first and grabbed a cup of coffee before joining his boss and the detective in the conference room.
"Guess you guys couldn't sleep either huh?" Morgan said when he entered. It was just after 6 in the morning but both men looked like they had been at it for a while.
"I got a few hours." Hotch answered. "But the DNA results on the skin samples came back from the lab this morning. There was a match but we don't have enough for a warrant."
"What do you mean?" Morgan asked his boss.
"The DNA came back a match to blood from the first crime scene." Hotch informed him. "Specifically the blood we already identified as belonging to George Stanley."
"So let's go pick up the sick son of a bitch."
"We can't Morgan. You know we can't use DNA from the missing person's database used for investigative person. Not to mention that the DNA profile in question should have been deleted as soon as the kid was found safe. Without the DNA evidence we don't have anything to arrest him on. We don't even have the profile."
"Hotch this guy may have murdered at least 7 people. You know there was only at most a day between when he finished up at the hotel and started at the library. He could be hunting more victims right now." There was a loud bang as Morgan slammed his fist into the desk as he was apt to do whenever he felt helpless.
"All right. We can at least pick him up for questioning." Hotch decided. When they reached the parking lot Hotch looked around before raising an eyebrow. "You didn't drive over?"
"No I decided to walk, why?" Morgan replied.
"I got a ride over with Detective Stanfield this morning." Hotch gave a little lopsided grin.
"Well it's a good thing some boys from the Augusta satellite office dropped off another SUV for you folks last night." Detective Stanfield informed them, grinning at the agents. "Seems that Communications liaison of yours requisitioned another one when she was calling for the evidence retrieval team." With another grin the detective tossed Agent Hotchner a set of keys and led them behind the station to where the black SUV was parked.
"Morgan call Reid and Elle and tell them to meet us there." ordered Hotch once they were settled. Hotch was driving with Morgan up front beside him and Detective Stanfield in back.
Morgan quickly dialed Elle's number. The phone rang half a dozen times before her voicemail picked up. "You've reached Elle Greenaway. I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave a message I'll try to get back to you." After leaving a quick message with the details he tried Reid's cell phone next but it went straight to voicemail. "Hello, this is Spencer Reid. Please leave a message."
"Hotch I can't reach either of them. Reid's phone didn't even ring, it went straight to voicemail." Morgan informed his boss. It didn't take a seasoned profiler to hear the stress and worry evident in the younger man's voice.
"Get Garcia on the phone."
-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-
The man checked the agents slumped on the living room couch. They were both out cold for the moment but he knew that wouldn't last long. He relieved the agents of their service weapons, tucking one of the guns into the waist band of his pants and handing the other one to George. "Georgie look through their things while I go upstairs and find a slightly more...permanent solution. Try to find out how much they know." the man ordered before heading upstairs.
George started off by searching the female agent's pockets first. He tossed her credentials over his shoulder to land in the corner while her cell phone and PDA were placed in a neat little pile next to him. Her handcuffs joined her credentials in the corner with a dull thud while everything else was cast aside.
Moving on to the male agent, his credentials quickly joined hers in the corner while his cell phone was likewise placed gently on the floor. Finding nothing else of interest he moved on to the messenger bag the agent carried. He opened the bag and dumped out its contents on the floor. In doing so some pictures fell out of one of the file folders the agent carried. He grinned when he saw the pictures but his grin quickly turned to a scowl after noticing that some of the pictures had been marked up, using various colors of ink, spoiling their beauty.
He spent almost a full minute staring at the pictures before he gathered them up and shoved them back in the folder. Gathering the rest of the FBI folders he placed them all in a neat little pile next to the confiscated electronics. He was about to turn away from the mess when a single piece of paper covered in what appeared to be addresses caught his eye.
Picking up the piece of paper he scanned rapidly over the names and addresses until his eyes fixated on one name in particular: His own. He giggled madly at the discovery. His friend would be delighted to learn that he was on an FBI list.
-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-
Once upstairs the man headed to the bathroom and began rifling through George's medicine cabinet. He found all kinds of prescription medications and quickly grabbed a vial of amobarbital sodium and a bottle of liquid lorazepam. He threw the medicines into a plastic bag along with half a dozen individually sealed hypodermic needles that he grabbed from a box on the shelf.
Leaving the bathroom the man entered the bedroom and quickly set about searching the usual places. He got lucky and struck gold, so to speak, as the third place he searched contained exactly what he needed: several ampoules of the much stronger propofol. It was a good thing George preferred the strong stuff. He took them all, he could always replace them later, and headed back downstairs. The agents would be waking at any moment.
-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-
"Office of omnipotence, do you realize what time it is" complained Garcia when she answered the phone.
"Sorry babygirl. It's important. " At Morgan's tone Garcia was instantly upright in her seat her hands at the ready. "Can you track Reid's and Elle's cell phones?"
"Just give me a minute." Garcia worked quickly bringing up a program she had written and within moments she had activated the GPS locator on Elle's phone. "Okay it looks like Elle's phone is currently located within the vicinity of Garrotview Lane. I've sent the coordinates to your GPS." Garcia hit a few more keys and then gasped. "Not only is wonder boy's phone turned off but I think the GPS locator's been smashed!"
Garcia heard a "Hotch step on it," from Morgan and the wail of police siren's followed promptly by a dial tone. Garcia forgave Morgan this one time for not saying goodbye. Her babies were in trouble!
-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-
As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs George shoved a sheet of paper into the man's face. "What is this" he demanded, a scowl plastered firmly on his face. George just gave a mad laugh. When no answer seemed forthcoming the man grabbed the sheet of paper and quickly scanned it over. "Where did you get this?"
George pointed at the unconscious FBI agents behind him. The man continued to press him for information. "Why is your name on this list." When George didn't answer the man decided to examine the names on the list more carefully. His scowl depended when he recognized another name on the list. "Don't tell me you're still active on that stupid hospitality exchange site?"
"I can't help it. The people who stay with me are so beautiful," said George. He gave a great big sigh, now readily playing the part of the tortured artist. "They inspire me."
With a role of his eyes the man pulled a couple of the hypodermic needles and two of the ampoules of propofol out of the plastic bag. With practiced ease he snapped the neck off one ampoule, ripped open one of the needles and filled the syringe. George started to whine when he saw the drugs but a look from the man silenced him.
The man approached the female agent first. She was still out cold when he approached her so injecting her with the propofol was quick and painless. He went back and filled the second syringe in the same practiced manner. He stared down at the helpless young man before him for a second. The man thought he looked more like a college student then an FBI field agent. The agent was just beginning to stir when he jabbed the needle into the young man's neck and pressed down on the plunger.
-PTTR-PTTR-PTTR-
Hotch broke every speed limit on the way to George Stanley's house. The whole time Detective Stanley was frantically radioing the rest of the squad on duty trying to secure them some backup. Frankly Hotch wasn't in the mood to wait, not when two of his agents were in trouble.
When they arrived he brought the SUV to a screeching halt in front of the unsub's house and all three men jumped out. A squad car pulled up behind the bureau-issued SUV less than 15 seconds later and two uniformed officers hopped out. Backup had arrived.
The agents approached the house first, guns drawn. Hearing only silence they waved the other men forward. Hotch held up his fingers in a silent count and on 3 Morgan kicked the door in.
They spread out all around as they began to clear the house. Agent Hotchner took the front room off to the right and waved Morgan towards the back of the house. He sent the uniformed officers upstairs while the detective headed towards what appeared to be the kitchen. Hotch was about to yell "Clear" when he heard Morgan yell.
"George Stanley. FBI. Drop your weapons and step away from the body."
It took all of Hotch's self control not to go running towards the back of the house. He proceeded with caution, his gun held at the ready, checking everywhere in case the unsub had a partner lying in wait. He was joined in the hallway by Detective Stanfield and the two men moved together into the room where Morgan stood with his gun pointed at the unsub.
Morgan repeated his command. "I said put your weapons down and step away from the body." The Unsub stood over someone holding a knife in one hand and a Glock in the other. The body was bathed in shadows so it was impossible to tell who it was, or if the individual was even still alive.
George looked up and stared Morgan straight in the eye, a mad grin on his face. "Oh you won't shoot me Agent." The man practically spat the last word at him.
"And why the hell not?" asked Morgan. He knew he wasn't really helping the situation but he couldn't help himself.
Instead of answering Morgan, the man turned to stare directly at Agent Hotchner. The man locked stares with the team leader for almost a minute before he replied using an almost a sing-song voice. "Because I know where your agent is."
Thank you for reading. I promise the team will soon have the bodies they need for a decent profile! Any reviews are greatly appreciated. Oh and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to bring Gideon in soon.