AN: Hello! Yay! A new chapter! :D But here's the deal—it has been brought to my attention (thank you to angel1549, for telling me this. I'm forever grateful) that there was an episode in NCIS where the murders were a lot like this one. But I can assure you I'd never seen that before and don't intend to copy off of it in any way—it was merely a coincidence. And also, to ImmortalDarkPassion: She isn't sure what she wants to major in yet, so she's just taking the basic courses And so are Derek and Spencer because they aren't going to be staying long enough to finish college. But I don't really want to detail too much on the classes because they're not very important, lol. I hope this helps clear things up a bit. :)
Anyway, I also wanna mention I didn't go to Dartmouth, so I may get things wrong. I'm researching, but not much is coming up for some reason :( Damn my crappy computer. Anyway, another thing is that I doubt The Page Palace actually exists, and the café mentioned in this chapter most likely doesn't either. I made them up, lol.
Now, moving on, I hope you like the story and I'm thankful for all the reviews I have and will get. They make my day and help me keep writing! So, I hope you like what you get here, even though there's not much happiness in this chapter.
She smiled without any humor or mirth as she closed up the shop, locking the door and looking around the darkened streets behind her. Her truck gleamed in the distance, the bulbous cab just a shadow. She looked through the windows, seeing the codes set and the bars locked, the open sign off, and everything in order. Then, she turned around, taking off her green apron, and folding it as she made her way toward the truck.
She got in and started it up, a tear falling on the steering wheel as she leaned forward, her forehead against the cool, old leather. But then she shivered, reached over, and turned the heat on. The blast of air on her face—not quite warm yet—shook her from her dangerous thoughts and she sighed, wrenching the truck in gear and pulling out with a loud rumble. She stopped at a local drive-thru, ordering the nastiest tasting black coffee, and set off on the highway.
The ride was both long and torturous, left alone with her thoughts and memories, but too short in her opinion. She would take her own mind thousands of years over rather than the proof she was about to get. The one cold slab of granite that meant it was all real.
She got out of the truck, the little sun poking through the gray clouds to her east, and moved forward on her legs of lead. Each step drew her closer, until she opened the heavy black gates with the longest, loudest creak of her life. Then she ambled forward down the road, preferring to walk through the trees and autumn leaves, shivering. But finally, she felt it, and looked to her right. Down a few rows, up one, and there she was, face to face with the worst part of her reality.
Two stones, side by side, cold and hard. Two names, two birthdates, and the same death carved into each. She fell onto her knees, hugging her father's stone, and sobbing. They were both gone, because of her no less. "Mom…Dad…I'm so sorry…I should have died…I should've…" But there was nothing for her to say. She was dead, and had been since. Death couldn't claim a zombie.
That day, seeing Phil show up hours after her parents were supposed to, she knew something was wrong. The look of him, red-faced, tear-stained, unshaven, was terrible. A mess, he had sagged against her and cried like a frightened child. He had loved Renee with all he had, and now she was gone. His shaky, broken explanation was something she had never dreamed of happening. Not to her. Not now.
"I…I got the call…the damn plane crashed…no one survived…Bella…God, I'm so sorry…" he had whispered, and she slumped backward. They were sprawled in her front hall, a storm raging in the distance behind them. She held him, shushed him, and felt everything leave her body. Every will and hope and lingering emotion whooshed out with her breath, her own mind refusing to believe what he was telling her.
"I…it didn't even get a mile away…I drove like a maniac…why now? Why this?" he continued into her shoulder, and she just let him cry, sinking into her own mind. Her father, leaving to get her mother, had perished. Both of them. He had gone to Jacksonville to ask her in person, show her pictures of what their daughter had become. He had gone to help her, and ask her mother to take her to heal away from the memories. And here she was, finding out that on this quest, they gave their lives.
Why couldn't death have taken her? Simply finished what it started? Why couldn't life be fair for once? But no, they were gone. And it was all her fault.
"Bella." She snapped from her memories, her sobbing reduced to silent tears, and turned around. Russet skin and a cold demeanor, Jacob stood there. But his eyes and face melted when he saw her.
"Jake," she whispered back, knowing he could hear her. "Where's…?"
"Carmen," he finished for her. Silently, he sat next to her, bringing her to his warm chest, and cradling her as she had for a hysteric Phil. "She didn't want to come. She understands now that you and I are just friends, and she didn't want to ruin the moment. She knows better than most that you need to grieve with only those you are close to. And she was a serious bitch to you, so she knew she didn't have a right."
"Oh," she sighed back. Carmen was Jacob's imprint, a girl he had found alone and broken after a local house fire. He had told her how on his patrol he had smelled the smoke and checked for any vampires. And when he saw her, he phased back to a human, unable to think of anything but her. The story—and the girl, admittedly—was beautiful. But Carmen had hated Bella for a long time, resenting Bella's dependence on Jacob. So they never talked, and Bella had a feeling Carmen was happy when she left for college.
"She didn't have to do that," she continued. "I understand her feelings, and I know it hurts you guys to be away from each other."
Jacob continued to rock her back and forth, but shook his head. She pulled from him, calmer now, and regained her mask of control. But some of her true self shown through, Jacob here to distract her. "Thanks, but really Bella, I agree with Carmen. I wasn't even sure if you would want me here."
She sighed and shook her head. "I am. It's great to see you, especially because I only came here for this. I hope you tell Billy I said hello, but I've gotta go. I need to study." Her voice cracked and broke as she looked toward the stones, running her mother's, "And I wouldn't be able to stand being here any longer than necessary. When Phil comes around, tell him I love him and to be well." She saw Jake nod from the corner of her blurry eye, and she swiped at her nose, rising. But before she could walk to her truck, Jake caught her wrist.
"Why won't you tell anyone your home number Bella? I know there's no way you don't have a phone. Phil sends you letters and money all the time. And he says you only ever write thank you. What's with you? Why can't you keep in contact? Why can't we ever see you?" He looked almost angry.
She ripped her wrist from his grasp, smiling sadly at him. "Because you wouldn't like what you saw." And she shuffled away, leaving him fairly stunned. She would have a long way back to Hanover.
Spencer shuffled through the files. He looked up at Gideon, who was looking at the rest of them. Silence rung in the room, as everyone processed that yet another girl was missing, on their watch. He almost felt slightly responsible, but didn't comment. Finally, after what felt like forever, Gideon spoke. "Her name is Isabella." He sucked in a breath for a reason unknown to him. "Isabella Carter. She's petite, has brown hair and blue eyes, the usual. She's twenty, and her birthday is in a week. Our goal, of course, is to get her back in time to see it."
Gideon was silent as he hung pictures of a sidewalk, with books and papers strewn around, along with just a bit of blood. "The blood is hers, as well as all the materials. It's obvious there was a fight, but we think he knocked her head against the ground here," he pointed to the largest pool of blood, "and dragged her off." A small trail of blood lead away from the puddle.
Derek looked around. "Any chances I can get to the scene?" Hotch nodded and jingled his keys.
"I was going to take you there." He was about to get up when the door to their room burst open, and JJ, panting, grabbed the remote to the television. She turned it on, a frustrated look on her face, and the news filled the room; immediately, the pictures that were lined up on the whiteboard in front of them flashed onto the screen. She left it on only for a moment, and then shut it off.
"People are in an uproar," she started. "This is the ninth kidnapping and they're all terrified. I've managed to calm them down, some, reassuring them that the FBI is on the case now, but there was only so much I could do in that department. And these pictures…" she waved vaguely at them, "I don't know how they got released to the public. We haven't, and the sheriff swears his men are loyal. Who could our leak be?" She sighed angrily, dropping onto an empty chair.
Spencer locked his jaw, thinking, trying to remember every officer he had seen this morning as he walked into the station. None had looked guilty or worried, or showed any body language to suggest they were hiding something. So it had to be someone on a different shift—the one when the kidnapping was discovered. But who?
He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again. He didn't have any answers or clues, and that unnerved him. All he could do was ask questions. "Has he slipped up? Was there any DNA of his?"
Gideon sighed and sat down slowly. "We're not sure yet, of course, but so far no unknown DNA was found. We've got nothing besides an empty space where this girl should be."
There was more silence in which no one looked at anyone else. Finally, Gideon turned to Derek. "Before you leave, call and see if Garcia has any ideas." Derek's head snapped up and he looked dazed. It was obvious both he and Hotch had forgotten they were leaving. He pulled out his phone, nodding, and hit a number before bringing it to his ear.
"Hey baby-doll…yeah, I missed you too…uh-huh…you're the bomb, I know…got anything, though? Any Ideas?" Derek rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch. "I think we safely deduced that there's a psychopathic creep running around. Thanks though, sugar. Keep up the good detective work. Yeah, gotta go." He hung up and shook his head.
"Alright. Elle and I are going to look around the dorm and ask some questions. Derek, Spencer, Hotch—don't be seen. Their cover can't be blown." With that, he piled files and pictures into Spencer's hands, grabbing his coat, and left. The men followed each other into a tinted car, making their way toward the scene of the kidnapping. The ride wasn't long, but Hotch had to get out and shoo every last stray person away before Derek and Spencer could safely jump out ad walk over. There was a nearby bench, and he set down the files and leafed through a few as Derek looked around.
"If I were our unsub…" he muttered, walking around. His eyes were in some sort of trance as he examined the way her books and bag were strewn. He began to speak as he bent, looking at the large hole in the fabric. "It looks like something made this hole…I'm guessing he came up behind her after a late class and grabbed the bag. He tried to pull her back by it but she got out of it and tried to run—" he pointed forward, where the blood was, about three yards away. "He got angry and threw the bag here from…there." He pointed again, to a spot about a yard from him, where books and papers were scattered. "And then he ran after her and they fought, which eventually led to him grabbing that book—" he pointed to said blood-stained college textbook, "and bashing her on the head, leaving her unconscious, so he could drag her away."
He got up and brushed off his pants, looking around the site as if to check again. Then he nodded and looked behind him to Hotch, who was looking at nearby trees, trashcans, and benches for any further evidence. Spencer looked up from his file, a small bit on Isabella—Bella—Carter, and sighed. After seeing this picture of a girl he never saw before, he felt almost relieved that it wasn't the same Bella from yesterday. Why, he had no idea. But that was how he felt.
"It does say here that she had a late class yesterday night, so you're probably right," Spencer said, pointing to her schedule. Derek nodded to him as Hotch's phone rang. Spencer could faintly hear Gideon's voice on the other end, though he couldn't make out anything but what was said on Hotch's side.
"Yes, we're going to further examine the bag and a specific book…we have an idea of what went on here. No, we're not much closer, other than that…alright. Got it." He shut his phone with a snap and made his way to the car, coming back with gloves on and plastic bags in which he carefully placed the book and bag. "We're gonna drop this off for further testing at the station, and then you guys have to go. Now we'll just be interviewing her friends, and you can't participate in any of that. I would suggest sleep or a date or movie. Let's go."
The car ride back was silent, and Derek said nothing as he drove them in their new rental car to the dorm. As they walked in, Spencer sighed and dropped the files onto his bedside table for later examination. He was tired, but not ready to sleep, as it was only noon. Derek went into the bathroom, changed, and came back out with an expectant look on his face. "C'mon man—it's our job to snoop in the local gossip. Let's find a party or local club or something." Spencer knew he was right, and yet he didn't want to. But slowly, silently, he nodded and got up, following him out the door. They decided to walk amongst the other students, looking around and chatting with a few cute girls that Derek would stop along the way.
"Hey sugar," he said to a redhead with her back turned. She looked behind her at them and appraised Derek with a smile. Spencer said nothing, standing there awkwardly as Derek began to extract information from her. "You know of any hot-spots for students?"
"Um…" her voice was high and whiny, and her eyes sparkled with lust as she looked at him. She bit her lip in a seductive way, but Derek either didn't notice or ignored it. "There's a café right off campus. Everyone meets and gossips there, but it's hot around five-ish on Fridays. And then a lot of people shop for books at The Page Palace, right down there." She smiled at him again. "And there's always my dorm."
He laughed and patted her cheek. "Maybe another time. I'll keep in touch." And walked away. Spencer shook his head and looked at him in something akin to confusion.
"I don't know how you do it. Get these girls falling all over you in milliseconds. I couldn't if I tried—and who would want women throwing themselves at your feet almost constantly?" he muttered. Derek laughed.
"You just don't understand, you little brainiac you." He ruffled Spencer's hair, and he slapped the offending hand away. "It's nice to be wanted. And flirting is fun. Y'oughtta try it sometime. In fact…" He looked over and followed Derek's gaze. Long mahogany hair bounced in time with the gentle sway of a female's hips. Derek sped up a little, toward her, and smiled at him. "Watch and learn."
With that said, Spencer hung just a bit behind as Derek put his arm casually around her. She yelped and jumped away, toward him, and fell. All he could think was damn, before he hit the cement, her on top of him. She was panting and looking around frantically, and he could only wait for her to realize he was stuck and get up. Derek stared, his eyes wide, before he laughed.
"Wh—what do you think you were doing?" she hissed at him, and that was when Spencer recognized the voice. He groaned internally to himself, the thought of his frantic need to escape the bookstore yesterday returning to the forefront of his mind.
"Not again," he said out loud by accident, making the girl jump away from him, swinging around, and staring him down.
"Spencer?" she asked quietly, amazed, before turning around and looking at Derek. "And you're…um…Derek, right?" she sighed. Spencer got up, brushing himself off, and felt surprised at the fact that she not only remembered him, but knew who his friend was.
"Yeah…how'd you know?" he asked suspiciously. She shifted to her other foot nervously, before laughing without humor again.
"Because everyone seems to know, especially if you make a habit of pulling that crap." She gestured vaguely to where Spencer was standing, and Derek snickered at her.
"Got some fire to ya, huh?" he asked. She ignored him, turning around to Spencer.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly. "Sorry, by the way. All of our encounters shouldn't include falling. That would probably get old after a while." She mustered a smile that didn't reach her eyes. He wanted to question why she looked so sad, empty, almost, but bit his tongue.
"I'm fine, thank you. And like I said, no need to be sorry," he said after a moment of hesitation. Derek's eyebrows raised to his hairline.
"You two know each other? Damn, Spence, and here I thought you weren't a lady's man." He slapped him on the shoulder in a friendly way, but Spencer felt his face heat up.
Bella laughed again, in that same way that nearly gave him the chills. It just sounded so forced and wrong. "Yeah, your friend here is quite the catch. Maybe you shouldn't doubt him so much." And she walked away. Derek nodded to him, his eyebrows still abnormally high, but Spencer just shook his head and followed after her.
"Hey, Bella?" he called. She stopped abruptly and turned around, looking at him in silence. He blushed, realizing he didn't know what to say or ask.
"D'ya know any local spots for students to meet and all that jazz?" Derek asked for him.
She bit her lip and sighed, leaning on one foot and thinking. "Um…well, you know about the Page Palace already. And the Jordan Café is pretty hot too. I work there on Fridays through Mondays, and it's pretty much always crowded from two to seven." She shifted awkwardly again, glancing between Spencer and Derek, hoping that they would drop it and leave.
But they didn't. Instead, Derek asked an odd question. "Did you know that a girl named Isabella Carter was kidnapped yesterday?" Spencer looked at him angrily. That information wasn't released to the public yet. How could he be so stupid as to tell this girl, who they didn't know?
She backed up a step in surprise. "No. How do you know?"
"Heard it from some girl." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it didn't matter. "Pretty scary if you ask me. Did you know her, by any chance?"
She bit her lip again and looked away. "I've talked to her. She was in one of my classes…but we weren't friends. I don't have any of those," she added as an afterthought. Both men furrowed their brows but didn't say anything.
She yawned, covering her mouth. "Look, I'm tired and kinda sore, now." She glared listlessly at Derek, before turning to Spencer. "I'm going home. See ya later." With that, she walked off toward where he could only assume her dorm was. Derek looked over at Spencer, to the sky, and sighed.
"No one's really out at around three on Thursday," he said sadly. "I guess we're stuck at home." And silently, they made their way back to scouring the files on their current case.
Reading it over, I'm not the proudest, but it'll have to do. I hope you liked it! And…you know…I do appreciate reviews *hinthint*. :D