"There's no word from Hotch or anyone yet," JJ said, checking her phone for the fifth time in what seemed like a minute.
"What should we do?" Reid asked, rocking back in a chair. Chloe glanced up at him, then returned to writing in her composition notebook.
JJ shook her head. "Just wait, I guess." They sat in anxious silence for a few moments, the scratching of Chloe's pen the only sound. Reid jumped when JJ's phone vibrated loudly on the table. She excitedly grabbed it, discerned the caller, and crinkled her forehead. "It's Garcia."
Opening her phone, she immediately switched it to speakerphone. "What's the update, Garcia?"
"How many are with you, Jayge?"
JJ surveyed the table. "It's just me, Reid and Chloe; everyone else went to Gilman's about an hour ago. Why?"
"There was a police frequency signal from Gilman's address a few minutes ago—there's a dead body."
JJ's eyes closed. "Did they give any details?"
Garcia typed something. "Gunshot wound to the head, middle-aged male…it's Gilman."
She pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Okay. Is there any other activity?"
"Nada," Garcia said sadly. "Either they went on a chase through the woods or the scumbag wasn't there when they showed up. I can't reach any of them."
"Neither can we," JJ said, wandering to the drinking fountain in the entryway for a sip of water. "It might help to release the information about Warren to the press, but I don't want him to snap and kill again." She sighed, bending to drink the water. "I need Hotch to make that call."
As she turned around, JJ saw Warren just inside the plate glass door, holding his gun between her eyes and his fingers to his lips. The blood drained from her face, and her heart began to thud slowly and heavily in her chest.
"Get off the phone," he said softly, "now."
"Garcia," JJ said, feigning complete composure, "I've gotta go. Reid's got something about the case."
"Ciao, my lovelies!" she said cheerfully. JJ winced.
"W—what do you want?" she whispered.
"Give me your gun," Warren said, not taking his eyes off the middle of her forehead. "We're gonna go in there, nice and easy, and you're gonna tell that Poindexter to give me his gun, too."
She handed over her pistol shakily. "O—okay."
He moved to behind her, holding the revolver steady against her right temple. Prodding her with his right thigh, Warren and JJ moved into the main portion of the police department.
"Tell him," Warren urged whisperedly as they neared the conference table where Reid and Chloe sat, their backs to JJ and her captor. "Take his gun."
"Reid," JJ said evenly, surprising herself with the calmness of her own voice. He turned automatically at the sound of his name, his face falling slack when he saw Warren, and his gun. He rose slowly, showing Warren his palms. When nobody spoke, Chloe glanced to where Reid was facing, and froze.
"Off—Officer Warren—what are you doing?" he asked nervously. "W—why not let JJ go? We can talk about this."
"Tell him!" Warren hissed, pressing the barrel harder against her forehead.
"Reid," she said, blinking furiously to stifle the urge to cry, "put your gun on the floor, and slide it over here."
"All right," he said, nodding and slowly bringing his right hand to the holster on his belt. "Here it is—nobody wants to hurt you, Warren." He set the pistol gingerly on the floor at his feet, and kicked it toward JJ. "N—nobody has to get hurt."
Warren released JJ to bend down and retrieve Reid's gun. "Try anything fancy, and I'll blow your brains out," he said gravely. When he stood, he pushed her lightly, and she went to stand next to Reid.
Chloe sat transfixed in the chair, her entire right arm hanging stiffly over the paper. Her pale blue eyes were wide, and her mouth was hanging open slightly.
"It should have been fine," Warren growled, moving slowly toward the three of them. JJ gripped Reid's upper arm tightly, her nails digging into his fair skin. "People should have been thanking me for what I was doing."
He neared Chloe, who stared up at him from her chair. "Then not only did the F.B.I. come here to drag this crap through our town again, but they brought you." She swallowed hard. "They brought their very own leech."
Chloe brought her hands up, tried to speak. "I—I didn't—"
Warren cut her off by grabbing the front of her green polo, lifting the slight girl off the chair. "Shut up!" he barked, using his strong forearm to bring the shaking teenager closer to his face. She struggled to maintain footing, and closed her eyes tight. "People like you ruin everything!" He thrashed the wad of shirt he held in his fist. "Dragging up other peoples' dirty laundry—making it fit whatever story you're peddling—you're all pieces of shit."
He released her roughly, and she fell back into the chair. She swallowed again, trying to stave the tears from spilling over.
"David LaRoe was a hero. He rid the world of scumbags—people nobody would bat an eyelash at if they ended up dead." He looked hard at Reid and JJ. "Just like I am."
He turned to Chloe, cocking the revolver and lowering it toward her. "And you're next."