Chapter 2
"The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles me"
A long time after midnight, when the last guests had left and city was slowly falling asleep, Emily Prentiss stepped out of the door that led onto the porch in front of the BullPen.
The night in the desert was cold and she had wrapped herself into a warm blanket. Leaning against the pillar, she looked up to the stars and waited. She was sure he wouldn't appear before he was convinced that nobody else was awake. He also loved to keep her waiting. It was an old game, maybe as old as time itself, but it never lost its appeal.
She couldn't say she dearly loved the valley or its citizens, but it was a safe place. Or at least she had thought so, until he had appeared in her Saloon. She had never expected him to find her in this damn, lonely, hot place. She also didn't know what exactly he wanted, but he would tell her soon.
The gaze he had given her, after the Marshalls had left, let her know that tonight was the night, he would finally approach her. Their time had come.
"Lauren."
His voice sent a shiver down her spine. He stood behind her, she hadn't heard him coming. Damn, her instinct had become rusty in this dirty town.
She felt his hand on her shoulder. It was warm, pleasant, if he hadn't applied so much strength to his grip.
"Ian," she greeted him back, without moving. She hoped she sounded as cool as the air felt.
"It's been a long time."
"Not long enough."
He chuckled. "Sharp as you used to be. I hope the Marshalls aren't here because of me. It would hurt my feelings, if you called them because you were afraid of me."
He removed his hand and when she turned her head, she saw him standing next to her. He had grown older, but they both had. Time was an unkind friend.
"The Marshalls are here, because of the killings in the desert," she explained. "But you should wonder, why you were the first person they set their eyes on."
Now he laughed. Low, husky and almost inaudible. "Yes, must be a cruel creature who kills all those girls. But I'm not interested in girls. I prefer real women."
He let his eyes glide over her body and a very familiar tingle spread all over her skin.
"The Saloon is full of women who will be ready to serve you." A useless attempt to avoid what was inevitable. She swallowed hard, as his hand found its way underneath the blanket and made contact with her naked skin. The smile that crossed his distinctive face made her gasp and her own breath formed a cloud in the night air when his touch became more and more possessive.
"I don't want your toys. But you know that, don't you?"
Jennifer Jeareau left her room on tiptoes. Inside Will LaMontagne was sound asleep and he didn't need to know she was leaving for a cigarette. If he awoke accidentally, he would want to fuck her again and for tonight she was tired of fucking. It was fun most of the time, but tonight was different. He had asked her again to marry him and again she had to tell him, she didn't have the wish to marry anyone. She loved her freedom and if freedom meant to work in this Saloon, so be it.
She startled when she heard steps on the stairs. She held her breath, when she heard Emily's dark voice and the husky answer of a man. She raised her left eyebrow. It wasn't allowed to let "normal" customers to stay the night. But Emily was the boss...
JJ withdrew and hid behind the corner, because she hoped to get a glimpse of the man. Her eyes narrowed when she recognized the strange figure that had already caught her attention when he entered the Saloon for the first time. A smile crossed her face when she saw how he pressed himself against Emily when she unlocked her door. The prospect of the two of them having a lot of fun behind that door, convinced her to rethink her decision.
When she returned to her room, Will was still asleep. But just as JJ thought, it was an easy task to lure him out of his dreams to keep him awake till dawn.
As Emily Prentiss had promised, she made sure the Marshalls had everything they needed, before they left for the Sheriff's office. The "everything" included, in addition to good food, also Penelope Garcia, who served the breakfast, much to Morgan's pleasure.
"This is the best breakfast I've ever had," he complimented more to her cleavage than to her face, when Penelope leaned over to refill his cup with fresh coffee. The blonde smiled in return and answered sweetly into his ear.
"Well, the longer you stay, the longer you'll enjoy it."
"I'll keep that in mind, Babe," Morgan whispered back and cleared his throat when he noticed Hotch's stern gaze.
"So, I guess we'll first have a look at the place where they found the last body."
"The last head, you mean," Hotch clarified and finished his coffee. "I asked the Sheriff to take us to the gold mine. Are you ready?"
"As ready as ready can be," Morgan said and finished his new coffee with one large sip and an added gasp.
"Hot," he mumbled, but Hotch had already risen from his chair. He grabbed his hat and ran after Hotch who was already out. When they stepped out onto the porch, they were greeted by the merciless sun. Although the day had hardly begun, the air was already as hot as it used to be in the afternoon.
"What a damned place," Morgan whispered to himself when he placed the hat on his hairless scalp.
"Good morning, Reid," Hotch greeted the young bartender, they had seen the night before behind the bar. He was nervously holding the two horses and seemed grateful when Hotch took the harness out of his hands.
"Morning, Sir. I hope you slept well."
"Yes, we did. Please give Emily our best wishes. She doesn't seem to be around this morning."
"I will. She's never up at this hour."
If Hotch wasn't satisfied with this piece of information, he didn't show. He just nodded at Morgan who was climbing his horse.
"Let's go, before the heat grills us."
Hotch, Morgan, Sheriff Gideon and his Deputy La Montagne reached the gold mine half an hour after they had left the Sheriff's office. The stick where the head had been stuck on, was still where Gideon had found it, two weeks before.
"Here we are," he said and pointed at the mine. "All the victims were found in this area. We just removed the other sticks."
"Who did you say owns this place?" Hotch asked, as he carefully walked around the stick.
"That's the big question," Gideon answered with a loud sigh. "It once belonged to Sebastian Strauss, one of the biggest rancher's in the valley, but rumor has it, he lost the mine after a poker game, but the deal lacks proof. Fact is, his widow and the supposed owner can't find a solution for the problem. They've been fighting their own little war over the mine for the last two years."
"Did it ever occur to you, one of them could be responsible for the murders?" Morgan asked.
"Yes, I admit the idea seems logical, but I know Erin Strauss and David Rossi, and neither of them has killer qualities. Maybe they want to kill each other, but they won't do each other the favor and so this will go on until the end of time."
"The killings are ritual," Hotch remarked. "The killer is staging the victims and exposes them to nature as if they were sacrificed. He enjoys killing, revels in it like a pig in a slope."
"And what does that knowledge help us?" LaMontagne asked doubtfully. He had been watching the Marshall the whole time and appeared less than impressed with the way Hotchner stared at the stick and the blood on it.
"It tells us, this isn't about the gold inside this hill. He has no motive beyond his own pleasure," Morgan explained.
"This stick," Hotch said, as he let his finger ran over the blood soaked wood. "It's not just a perch. It's something a carpenter would use to build a house. Is someone building a new house in this area?"
"Well, I know Strauss is renovating her ranch..."
"Did she hire someone from here to do the work?"
Gideon shrugged. "I'm not sure... the ranch is outside the city. She hardly goes to town..."
"Then we should go to her," Morgan said with a shrug.
"Although..." Gideon smiled. "I know she's the one who bought Emily Prentiss' Saloon. It can't be long, before she appears there. She'll have to rub it in Rossi's face that she bought the place, he wanted to buy as well."
"I prefer to meet her in her comfort zone," Hotch said and went back to his horse.
"In her what?" Will asked, dumbfounded.
"Her comfort zone. Where she feels safe. People will open up more easily when they feel comfortable," Hotch returned his attention to Sheriff Gideon. "Can you take us to the ranch?"
"Will will show you the way. I have to go back to the city." Gideon nodded at Will who took the order with a less than graceful reaction.
"Strauss doesn't like me and aren't you the one who knows how to handle her?"
"I'm afraid Rossi and the late Sebastian are the only people who can handle her," Gideon answered and mounted his horse. "But give her my best wishes. I'll meet you in the afternoon."
"What was that supposed to mean?" Morgan asked, after Gideon couldn't hear them anymore.
"I'm not sure," Will cleared his throat and spit out on the dusty ground. "There are rumors, you know... Rossi and Gideon are step brothers, but they don't get along and before Strauss married old Sebastian, she was the one who owned and ran the bullpen. People say, Rossi was after her, but she kept turning him down and one evening, Gideon and Rossi had a fist fight over her. Cost Rossi a teeth and Gideon his honor." Will shrugged. "But that happened a long time ago. I don't even know how much of it is true."
"Sounds as if this valley is a place full of interesting people." Morgan remarked with a grin.
Emily had woken up after 9 o'clock. Her body ached in places, she didn't want to name and she also ached for a black, strong coffee that could bring the dead to life.
Doyle was gone. Of course, he was. She had never woken up next to him and she never would. They were both children of the dark. When they had first met, they had instantly recognized each other as people who didn't live for the day. The darkness had so much more to offer than the bright daylight. Just like the sun over this valley exposed the ugliness of its citizens, the darkness covered them with its cold like a blanket.
Would he return tonight? She doubted he had enough. Ian Doyle was insatiable. Greed was his engine and the blood in his veins was restless. He would come back and she would welcome him.
**tbc**