Chapter 3
Now:
Dumfries, Virginia. October 31, 2007
When a blonde woman with funky orange glasses entered the Police Station that morning, the young officer on duty at the reception area couldn't help but did a double take as he saw her. Despite all the craziest that had been going on in Dumfries for the past ten days, the appearance of the woman in front of him still managed to startle him. She wasn't necessarily bad-looking per se; it was really her eccentricity that shocked him. She was wearing a colorful flowery shirt and a bright orange skirt with braid-like patterns at the hems. As if all those colors weren't enough, the woman in front of him also had on a bright red-orange cardinal and a necklace with orange beads the size of gumdrops. Her blonde hair was done up in a ponytail, but that didn't stop her from donning a thick apricot headband with a big amber color marigold on top. In her arms, she held a vibrant Laurex Twinkle Orange laptop sleeve. Looking around the reception area, she finally noticed the young officer in uniform on duty.
"Good morning!" called the mysterious guest with a strained smile as she approached the counter where the officer sat. "Officer Teddy Merritt," she continued as she glanced down at his name tag, "my name is Penelope Garcia. I'm with the FBI. Is Agent Hotchner or Agent Morgan here?"
Snapping out of his observations, Officer Merritt returned this new agent's smile before directing her toward her team. "Um... G-d morning. Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and the rest of your team are already here. Just go down that hallway there." He pointed to the lit hallway to his left as he continued, "And turn right into the second conference room."
Giving Officer Merritt a nod of thanks, Garcia hurried down the hallway to her team. When she arrived at the empty conference room that they had turned into their temporary command center, she was glad to find the entire team all present. What she needed to tell them, she didn't want to tell more than once.
Morgan was the first to notice her presence as he looked up from the file on Robert Jackson he was reading. Surprised, he asked, "Baby Girl, what are you doing here?" His question alerted the rest of the team to the arrival of their technical analyst.
"Garcia?" questioned Hotch as he moved toward her. "Is there something wrong?"
"You're all here; you're all okay," said Garcia, relief colored her voice as a real smile graced her face at last that day, no matter how small of a smile.
"Why wouldn't we be okay? Garcia, are you alright?" asked JJ as she set down the photos she was looking at and approached Garcia. She was completely taken off guard when her friend suddenly pulled her into a firm one-armed hug with Garcia's laptop smushed between them. The action was so unexpected that it sent the rest of the team on to their feet. "Penelope," JJ tried again when Garcia finally pulled away, "what is wrong? Are you alright?"
Garcia moved toward the round table and set down her laptop before turning to face her team. "I'm fine. I thought you guys were the one in trouble."
"Why would we be in trouble?" questioned Reid as he, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi settled back in their seats.
"Well, after you guys called me yesterday afternoon about finding out if there were more victims who had died with their throat slashed, I tried calling you back that evening and this morning, and no one answered," Garcia explained. The calm and relief that she felt earlier once she had seen that the entire team was alright were replaced with frustration and worry again. "I tried calling the station, the inn where you are staying, even the Laundromat across the parking lot. No one picked up. It was like some weird electrical interference or something, and I was freaking out! So I got down here as quickly as I could...and you're all alright! Which I am happy about, but now I feel all silly," she finished, looking embarrassed as she picked her laptop back up and held it as if it were a shield.
"We can check that out later, the electrical interferences," said Rossi. "Now, what do you have for us? Were there previous victims?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes," replied Garcia as she took a seat at the conference table and started up her laptop. She also connected her laptop to the projector in the room so the rest of the team could see the information she found. "So I ran a nationwide search for cases where the victims were killed with their throat slashed after your call." Her hands flew across the keyboard as she called up the information she had found. "Now, imagine my surprise when the first case that was brought to my attention happened in 1972. Eight nuns were killed when their throats were slashed at St. Mary's Convent in Ilchester, Maryland that year."
"1972? That's 32 years ago! That means the Unsub would possibly be around his mid to late 50s by now!" exclaimed Prentiss, shocked that their profile of the Unsub's age could possibly be so off. The team had contended that the Unsub is a white male in his mid to late 20s, around the same age as the victims so far.
"Well, this does add to the theory of a team, possibly a father-son," commented Rossi. "What else did you find, Garcia?"
"Well, after that, nothing until 2006. In January 2006, a driver was found dead on a deserted highway in California with his throat slashed. A John Doe showed up in a Chicago morgue with the same wounds a month later. Eww, now that's just awful." Pictures of the two John Does popped up on the projector screen as the team examined their wounds. Much like Elizabeth Jackson and Hunter Bradley, the EM reports for both men reported a single cut through the throat that severed the carotid arteries and the trachea, leaving both to bleed to death.
"And then nothing again until November," continued Garcia. "In November 2006, a pastor, Jim Murphy, was found with his throat slashed in his church in Blue Earth, Minnesota, severed carotid arteries and trachea, left to bleed to death." A photo of a middle aged man in black priest clothing with his throat slashed as he laid in front of an altar appeared. "That same week, a Caleb Jager turned up dead with the same wounds in Lincoln, Nebraska." A photo of a younger man with a buzz cut appeared. He was tied to a wooden chair, and his lifeless blue eyes stared at the ceiling.
While JJ and Hotch were busy adding all of the new information up on a second whiteboard they had brought into the room, Rossi was jotting down notes in his little black notepad. Garcia paused for a second to drink a sip of water from the plastic cup Morgan handed her before continuing. "A month later in December, a Master Sergeant Mark Hosea was found with his throat slashed in his truck in Rivergrove, Oregon. It was thought that his passenger, Duane Tanner, was his killer, but no one could locate him. That one was strange. Apparently everyone in Rivergrove had disappeared in that same week. The town was practically a ghost town." Photos of Hosea in his truck appeared on the projector screen along with that of Rivergrove, Oregon.
"The last victim I was able to find with the same wounds was Steve Wandell. He was killed in February of this year in Otter Creek, Iowa. Now, all of the murders I just told you are still unsolved," concluded Garcia as she turned away from her laptop, unable to look at the gruesome bloody photos any longer.
"We were right when we said that whoever our Unsub is, he certainly has experience, but I didn't expect him to leave a whole string of bodies behind going back to 1972," commented Reid with a grim face.
"Is possible that our Unsub here could be Duane Tanner, Mark Hosea's suspected killer?" Prentiss threw the question out on the floor, hoping someone might have an answer.
"See, that's the thing sweetie, I can't find Duane Tanner anywhere," answered Garcia. "He and the rest of Rivergrove just disappeared. The only reason Duane Tanner even came up as a suspect for the Hosea's murder was because his prints were all over Mark Hosea's body and truck."
Even with the new information, Morgan couldn't help but think that they still didn't get anywhere on their case. Instead, now they had thirteen more bodies with their unknown perpetrator still at large. I need some air though Morgan as he gave Hotch a nod before heading out the door.
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At The Same Time With The Winchesters
Music blared from the radio as Sam shot up from his bed. "Dean, seriously?" he shouted as he ran a hand through his tousled hair.
Dean Winchester walked out of the bathroom fully dressed with a smirk as he saw his brother's scrunched up face. "And the zombie lives!" Dean joked. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. We're meeting Bobby at the Montclair Diner across the street. He's waiting for you to get your ass out of bed," said Dean as he threw the towel he was using to dry his hair at Sam.
"Wait, Bobby's here alright?" asked Sam as got up from his bed and headed for the bathroom. "Thought we're supposed to meet up with him later, after we got some personal insight on the case ourselves."
"Yeah, well, he got in earlier, and since you sleep like a coma patient, we're going do some poking around with Bobby later," stated Dean as Sam emerged from the bathroom. "Well, that was quick. Didn't need your bubble bath, Princess?" mocked Dean with a smirk.
"Shut up," grumbled Sam as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door with Dean right behind him.
With the Impala parked outside, Sam and Dean entered Montclair Diner and looked around for any sign of the man that had long since become their surrogate father. Not finding hide or hair of Bobby Singer, the boys were about to head out again when a figure in the corner booth waved at them. Deciding to see who it was, Sam and Dean headed toward the stranger. As they got closer, suspicion and trepidation were replaced by amusement and shocked. Gone were the ragged oil-stained jeans, the patched up sleeveless vest, and the crummy worn baseball cap that were the customary clothing of Bobby Singer. In their place instead was a well-tailored black suit complete with polished black shoes. His hair was washed, brushed, and gelled back. Even his shaggy beard was trimmed.
Tired of being stared at like a zoo animal, the older man grumbled, "Well, are you idjits gonna sit down or do I have to pull out your chairs for you? Took you long enough to get here."
"Sorry, Bobby," said Dean as the two took their seats. "Princess here overslept," he explained as he jerked his thumb toward his brother.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," continued Bobby. "Now, tell me again why I got dressed up in this monkey suit only for us to not go in as FBI?" His face seemed to be in a permanent frown as he loosened his tie yet again.
"Sorry, Bobby," started Sam only to be cut off by the older hunter.
"Will the two of ya quit apologizing and just explain to me the problem?" he snapped impatiently.
"The BAU is in town," said Dean as he looked Bobby in the eyes.
There was a beat of silence before Bobby replied, "Oh." As if the only explanation he needed were those five words.
Sam waited for Bobby to say something else, to ask who the BAU were, to question why they still can't go in as FBI, but he waited in vain. Bobby remained silent, and Sam, unable to stand being kept out of the loop any longer, spoke out at last. "Alright, what's the big secret that I don't know?" Sam demanded. "What's the big deal with the BAU? What do the two of you know that I don't?"
"There's a lot of things you don't know, Sammy," mocked Dean with a smirk as he turned to his brother.
"Dean, seriously. Bobby?" demanded Sam with a frown.
The older hunter looked at both brothers before answering, "Nothing, Sam. Nothing important. Just let it go." And while Sam begrudgingly did as Bobby asked and focused back on the job, he didn't missed the glance Bobby traded with Dean.
"Fine," said Sam. "Whatever. So Bobby, you'll check out the Police Station while Dean and I visit the morgue?" he suggested.
"Uhh...I think I'm gonna check out the station, Sammy. You and Bobby visit the morgue," Dean contradicted as he shared another glance with Bobby.
"What, are you kidding? You want to walk right into a police station full of Feds?" exclaimed Sam, pissed at whatever Bobby and Dean were keeping from him.
Dean gave his brother an eye roll as he got up and scooted out of the booth. "I'll be fine, Sammy. Relax." He gave his brother a smirk before continuing. " I'll see you two later. Remember, I'm James McGovney, and you're Kirk Bonham." He directed the last statement at Sam before heading out the door, completely dismissing Sam's objection at the change of plan.
xxxxxx
Police Station
Morgan had just headed back inside when the doors behind him opened again, letting in the cool October breeze. Turning around, he was hit with a sense of déjà vu as he stared at the man in front of him. Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he'd met the stranger before.
With short-cropped light brunette hair, hazel eyes, and similar facial features to the recent male victims, he could have been related to them. With a permanent smirk on his face, the stranger approached Morgan. Breaking the silence, he greeted the agent. "Good morning. I'm James McGovney, reporter for my blog. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about the recent string of murders here in Dumfries."
The question snapped Morgan out of his musing, and a small frown appeared on his face. "This is an open investigation. No comment," responded Morgan. He was just about to turn around and head back to his team when the reporter stopped him again.
"I heard that you found something strange at the each of the crime scenes, sulfur. What do you think it means?" questioned McGovney with a hopeful hint in his voice as if he didn't really know that, but was making a lucky guess.
"Like I said before, no comment," reiterated Morgan, yet he knew that McGovney had gotten the answer he was looking for when his permanent smirk got wider, and he backed off.
"Well, thank you for your time, Agent," said McGovney as he turned and headed out of the station.
"Who was that?" asked Reid as he came up from behind Morgan. The older agent had gone out for air a while ago, and when he hadn't come back, Reid had volunteered to look for him. He was surprised to find Morgan talking with a stranger in black leather jacket who looked eerie familiar.
"Just a reporter," said Morgan as he turned to the younger agent behind him. "What's up? Did we get some new info?"
"No," answered Reid, distracted. "Who did you say that was?" Reid asked again as he headed outside, hoping to catch another look at the stranger.
"Reid," called Morgan as he went after him. Stopping next to his teammate outside of the station, Morgan asked, "What's wrong?"
"I'm pretty sure that was Dean Winchester you were talking to," stated Reid as he looked back at Morgan.
"What? The one wanted for the St. Louis murder and the Milwaukee bank robbery? Are you sure?" asked Morgan as he searched the parking lot for the telltale sign of the black Impala the Winchester brothers drove.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," said Reid as he headed back inside and toward the officer sitting in front of the security screen. "Excuse me, can you run the tape from a few minutes ago here in the reception area?" As the images raced across the screen in front of him, Reid's eyes flew from side to side as he searched the faces in front of him for that of Dean Winchester. Spotting his target, Reid turned to the officer next to him, "S-stop right there. No, back a little bit. Yeah, right there."
Beside him, Morgan cursed, "Damn it! That was Winchester! Right in front of me, and I'd let him get away."
Reid wasn't listening though as he hurried back into the conference room where the rest of the team was waiting. "Hey guys, the Winchester brothers are in town," he said. His statement sent the room into a frenzy as Reid wondered if maybe they'd caught a break after all, and these were the Unsubs they were looking for, barred the murders in 1972.
"Are you sure, Reid?" asked Hotch.
"Yeah," Reid replied. "He introduced himself to Morgan as a reporter." Moving to where Garcia was sitting, Reid asked, "Garcia, can you find out where and when...uh." Reid turned to Morgan for help.
"James McGovney," Morgan supplied. "He introduced himself as James McGovney." As Garci entered the information in her laptop, Morgan ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "I can't believe I didn't notice it. McGovney was the original bassist for Metallica. These guys are known for using aliases that include names of famous rock musicians."
"Even the best makes mistakes, Morgan," Prentiss tried to comfort him. "And the Winchesters are good. They've been able to avoid the agent sent after them for nearly a year."
Whatever Morgan was going to say was forgotten when Garcia exclaimed, "Got it! A James McGovney and a Kirk Bonham checked into room 24 at the Days Inn on Old Stage Rd yesterday night."
"Wait," said Rossi. "If they just checked in yesterday, they can't be the Unsubs we're looking for."
"Maybe not," replied Hotch with a frown. "But they are fugitives, and we should find out what they are doing here. We don't want to let them know that we're on to them so let's go over there without sirens and hopefully ambush them." With that, Hotch walked out the doors with Morgan close behind him. Rossi and Reid followed them not far behind. As Prentiss was heading out the door, she ran in JJ who had left the room earlier when Reid went looking for Morgan.
"Hey," said JJ. "Where's everyone going?"
"Uh...We're picking up some suspects from Days Inn. Are you coming?" Prentiss asked.
Seeing Garcia looking uncomfortable in the empty conference room by herself, JJ replied, "Nah, I'm gonna stay with Garcia."
"Alright, see you later then," said Prentiss as she hurried after the others.
xxxxxx
Days Inn
Hotch checked his watch again as he waited in the reception area of Days Inn with Rossi while Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss waited for the Winchester brothers to come back in the two rooms on either side of Room 24. The purr of an engine drew Hotch's attention to the window next to him as a black classic Chevy Impala pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot. Turning to Rossi and bringing his hand mike to his mouth, Hotch said, "Everyone get ready. They're coming up. Wait for them to open their door before making the arrest."
As the Winchester brothers made their way to their room, Hotch caught bits and pieces of their conversation through the others' communication line.
"Well, at least we know for sure...demon...sulfur." Sam Winchester's voice could be heard through the comms.
xxxxxx
Sam's and Dean's POV
"Well, at least we know for sure that a demon is in town with those traces of sulfur we found," said Sam as he made his way to their motel room with Dean behind him.
"Yeah, with those traces of sulfur Ifound," countered Dean with his signature smirk.
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's immaturity before continuing. "Yes, Dean, that you found. How could I ever doubt you? You did great at the police station. No one is even after us," Sam mocked.
"Don't patronize me," snapped Dean before he stuck his tongue out at his little brother.
"Yeah, Dean. Real mature." said Sam as they passed by room 22. "What's strange though, is how similar the victims look to you and Jo. Whoever this demon is, he obviously has something against you." At his brother's unconcerned look, Sam continued with a frown, "That's not good, Dean. Especially with your deal."
"Dude, who knows how many demons I've pissed off," said Dean as he fiddled with the key into their room. Just as the lock clicked and as he turned the knob, the doors to either side of their room burst open, and shouts filled the air.
"Hands in the air! Hands in the air!" shouted the FBI agents storming out of rooms 22 and 26.
Dean almost hit himself in the head when the agent he had talked to earlier ordered him and Sam to face the wall as his two partners searched them. His mood didn't get any better when Sam grumbled next him, "Yeah, Dean. No one is after us."
xxxxxx
BAU's POV
Prentiss almost laughed out loud when Dean Winchester snapped at his brother as she and Reid confiscated their handguns. The ride back to the station was uneventful as the Winchester brothers were kept separate with Dean in Hotch's and Rossi's van and Sam in hers, Morgan's, and Reid's van. As they led the brothers through the station, Prentiss almost missed JJ's face paled when she caught sight of the Winchesters before she disappeared.
JJ and Garcia had just stepped out of the conference room when Hotch entered the station with Rossi and Morgan behind him, leading Dean Winchester through in chains. At that moment, JJ felt as if a hole had just opened up and swallowed her underground. Everything and everyone else seemed so far away, and all she could hear was a buzzing in her ears. She didn't even hear Garcia when the other woman asked if she was alright before JJ hurried to the restroom. She didn't even wait for the door to close behind her before JJ's phone was out and a number was dialed. The few seconds that it took for her call to be answer seemed like an eternity to JJ. As soon as she heard the "hello" that she was waiting for, JJ didn't any waste time explaining the situation. "Hey, we have a problem. How fast can you get to the Dumfries Police Station?" Her call was done and her phone was stowed away when Prentiss came looking for her.
"Hey," greeted Prentiss. "You alright?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" answered JJ as headed back outside.
"You were looking pretty pale earlier," Prentiss said as she led the way to the interrogation room. "We got the Winchesters. Hey, has anyone gone in yet?" Prentiss asked Hotch as the two stopped in front of the interrogation room that held Dean Winchester.
"No, not yet. We're letting him sweat for a while," answered Hotch as they continued to watch the older Winchester through the one-way glass.
xxxxxx
Dean's POV
They had put him and Sam into different interrogation rooms a while ago. He knew the FBI agents were watching him through the one-way glass. He wondered if she was on the other side as well and what was she thinking about right now seeing him again. He had got a glimpse of her as they marched him into the station before she disappeared. He had felt a rush of excitement and anticipation when he caught sight of her face earlier. Now, waiting for someone to walk through that door was killing him. Maybe someone had heard his thought because at the moment, the door into the interrogation room opened.
"Well, about time," said Dean, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. As he looked up, Dean was taken off guard by the person who had just walked through the door.
"Hello, Dean," greeted the newcomer. "It's been a while."
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AN: Thank you to everyone who'd reviewed, favorited, and followed Secrets of the Night, specifically winka and cjhtorchwood since I can't private message you guys. Well, who do you think JJ called? And who just walked through the door? I hope you'd enjoyed this chapter, and I'll try to update again soon, but with the Olympics on, can't make any promises!
Minor grammatical revision: 1/19/17
