The Stripper Chapter Five
Disclaimer: Not mine…
A/N – I am soooo very sorry this has taken me so long to get back to. Life got a little busy lately. Hopefully we've slowed to the point where I can get back to my stories. I had the first part of this done but not the second and I labored over wanting it just right. No Emily, but the race is on to save her. BTW - no beta either so let me know if I have any errors.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." The slight blonde turned from the driver's seat to glare at the woman she considered her honorary sister in law.
"What? This was your idea." The pregnant blonde growled as she made another attempt to get comfortable in the seat of Jessica's car. No matter how she moved it just wasn't happening.
Feeling a bit chagrinned to have the fact pointed out that it was indeed her idea, Jessica sighed heavily as she kept her eyes focused on the backdoor of the club her former brother in law and his team were currently holed up in. The idea of going on a stake out seemed exciting initially. The reality was it wasn't. She was bored and wished they would have just stayed home and played Sorry! with the boys like they had requested. The constant movement beside her had her turning to JJ and asking pointedly, "Are you okay?"
JJ winced as she placed a hand on her back. "Yeah, I'm fine but this has got to be the most uncomfortable car I've ever sat in. I wish we could have brought the Suburban."
The idea made Jess grin. "Sure because that would have been completely inconspicuous. Big, black vehicle that just screams law enforcement. Yeah, no one would have given it a second glance." She snorted, smiling at JJ before turning back to her surveillance and voicing her dissatisfaction. "You know, somehow I thought this would be more exciting."
"Most of the cases are more depressing and sad than they are exciting." JJ admitted, still fiddling with the seat adjustment.
"I just don't understand how, if you can pinpoint that this is a white male, forty five years old, why can't you figure out who it is?" She questioned, "Or how he's doing it?" The puzzle was still intriguing.
JJ sighed. "We work with the evidence available to us, and we don't know exactly. We base our theories on the evidence we have to work with. A lot of the time we have incredible accuracy..."
Jess frowned and interrupted, "So you don't think this guy has an accomplice?" It was that theory that had her and JJ leaving the comfort of home for the alley behind the club. She should have never voiced her opinion but she liked the fact that JJ, unlike Aaron, was willing to listen to her amateur sleuthing.
"I think there was probably something that made them discount the idea that he's working with a partner. Usually it has to do with the fact that there is nothing to indicate that there is more than one unsub involved. If I'm recalling correctly they haven't recovered any DNA or prints from any of the crime scenes."
"So all that means is he's obviously got a woman cleaning up behind him." Jess scoffed, theorizing that most of the men she knew needed cleaning up after. She wish JJ hadn't shared the knowledge with her that they knew for certain that their unsub was a man. All of the victims had sexual trauma, and they knew it wasn't from a foreign object.
"I wish Aaron would have left the files at home." JJ lamented once again. It was the lack of files to peruse that led them to the brilliant idea of doing a stakeout. She didn't know what avenues they had looked at. Typically they were all pretty open with her about the cases they were on but her husband and friends had gone remarkably quiet about this particular one. She fumed silently over the slight. She was pregnant, not invalid.
Jess squinted when the back of the club opened then bolted up in her seat. "JJ?"
"He did it on purpose too." She grumbled, still stuck on the fact that Hotch wasn't sharing the case particulars.
Jess couldn't believe she was seeing what she was seeing. "Uh, JJ? I think…"
"What? It's not like I snoop through his files." She gave a self-deprecating chuckle before admitting. "Okay, fine, I do. But in my defense…"
"Jennifer!" Jess's exasperation came clearly through.
JJ finally looked up at her. "What? I do have a clearance."
"JJ someone just exited the back door with something slung over his shoulder. Something that looks a lot like a body." She shared needlessly. Excitement tinged with disbelief was evident in her voice.
JJ immediately turned to the door and watched as a slight woman closed the door and wiped it clean. She and Jess shared a look. "Son of a bitch." She reached for her purse, searching for her phone as she kept a close eye on what was happening. She couldn't help the grin on her face, despite the circumstances, as Jess continued to take snap shots from her iPhone. "I don't have my phone." She growled, as she'd completed a full search of her purse only to come up empty. She shook her head as the person they were watching deposited his load in the trunk of his car. He then kissed his accomplice and gave her a pat on the butt, sending her back into the club. "I don't have my phone!" JJ wailed as the events quickly began to get away from the hapless, unprepared pair.
"What do we do? What do we do?" Jess babbled as the club door closed and the car with what was very likely Emily in the trunk roared to life.
"Quick, give me your phone!" JJ demanded. "And whatever you do, do not lose that car."
~~CM~~CM
Derek swiveled his head around trying to locate Emily, he'd been on his way to the stage when he was besieged by the eruption of the audience swelling up and closing in. He could hear as Rossi continued to swear as he attempted to regain order. It would have been amusing if Derek didn't have a vice around his heart. He could also hear Hotch shouting out orders above the din. He took comfort in that. He located Blake and spotted both Garcia and Reid. Emily was the only one that he couldn't seem to find. He breathed a sigh of relief when the DC police began pouring into the building.
"Where's Prentiss?" Hotch asked, pushing through the crowd, making his way towards Derek. The local LEOs were fast on the scene thanks to the quick actions of Garcia and they were rapidly taking control of the mob situation. There were a few rowdy patrons that wanted to resist but they were far and few. Order was being restored and they were free to do what they needed to.
Derek pushed his way towards the back. "She must have gone to the dressing room."
"She knows better than that." Hotch growled, coming up behind him, scanning the room.
Derek went to the private dressing area quickly, not bothering to knock he barged in only to find it vacant. He turned and strode out, baffled. "She's not here." The area was open enough to see there was no place she could have been hiding even had she wanted to. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins and he was having a hard time keeping it together as thoughts of what her absence meant came rushing in.
Hotch didn't say a word as he moved to the back door. Testing it he turned back to Derek. "It's still secure."
"We didn't miss her out front." Derek said tersely, not ready to give into the panic eating at him.
Hotch nodded and made his way back to the bar and stage quickly coming to Rossi's side. "Lock it down."
Rossi's head snapped back towards him as the ramifications of what he wasn't saying were plainly clear. He didn't question Hotch as he made his way to the front of the club making sure that the bouncer and the head of the local police effort both knew what was going down. He noticed that Hotch moved with purpose towards Garcia.
"I need video."
She, too, understood what he was saying. Her eyes went wide and she swallowed hard before she began hitting the keystrokes that would give Hotch what it was that he requested.
Hotch watched the replay. Later they would be able to delve into the feedback from the audience angle but right now they were focused on the stage. Derek stood stoically beside him. He flinched Emily was grabbed from behind by a slim arm.
"That's a woman's arm." Reid commented needlessly. They all watched as she initially drew back with a fist, then smiled and followed the arm into the back.
"I'm going to need more than an arm." Hotch stated, turning back to Garcia. "Can you isolate and blow it up?"
"Pfff, kid's stuff." Their tech scoffed, rapidly hitting the keys to meet his request.
Derek wasn't waiting he was actively scanning the crowd trying to spot someone. His eyes finally landed on the person he was looking for and he charged at her. "Where the hell is she?"
The young woman called herself Summer but Derek knew that her actual name was Ann McKenzie. She hadn't raised any flags when they ran a background check. She didn't give off any weird vibes either. She was completely non-descript and totally forgettable. "Son of a bitch." He belatedly recalled one of the other club owners making a comment about a mousy dancer that wasn't very good and who hadn't stuck around for very long. They hadn't made a connection. Instinct was telling him that he was looking at her and she hadn't left in fear as they assumed. Unless it was the fear of discovery that prompted her departure.
Brown eyes blinked up nervously at him. "Wh-what are you talking about?"
Morgan was in the mood for games. "Do not fuck with me." He placed a hand on each of her shoulders to steady her and keep her from fleeing. "We have everything on tape I know that it was you that pulled Emily into the back."
Her eyes diluted and she huffed out a breath, probably in relief. "Sure so she wouldn't get a bottle or chair flung at her. You saw the way this place went crazy."
The excuse was plausible but her eyes registered a touch of glee, a little shine of smugness lit them. She clearly knew something. "Then where is she?" Derek questioned.
The woman glanced around as if looking for Emily. "I thought she came out here." She shrugged. "You're the boss, you probably know her better than anyone." There was a wealth of innuendo behind the comment.
"I'm a little more than the boss." Derek said tersely.
The glint grew a little smugger. "You don't say."
A muscle twitched on the side of his cheek. "My name is Special Agent Derek Morgan." He bit out. "I am on assignment here to uncover what has been happening with several of the local dancers. I'm assuming that you are aware of what has been going on. Several of your kind are winding up dead."
Ann's eyes went wide with surprise as she nodded slightly. "Yeah, sure, it's horrible…"
He closed in on her, crowding close using his body to intimidate her. "Do not bullshit me. Tell me where he's taken her."
"He?" It was working as she barely squeaked the question out.
Derek leaned down so he was eye level with the slight woman. "Your accomplice or maybe he's your boss." He hissed.
"MORGAN!"
He barely registered Hotch's voice over the rush of blood in his ears. He was seconds away from wrapping his hand around the neck of the woman in front of him. But the urgency in his boss's voice told him whatever he had was important. He turned to the officer beside him. "She is to remain in custody for questioning."
Ann had been relieved the other man had called to him and demanded his attention. She was plotting on how to get out of the building when his command drew her up short. "You can't do that."
Morgan ignored her and spoke to the officer. "Cuff her and make sure she doesn't talk to anyone."
"You can't hold me based on your paranoia alone. I have rights you know." She yelled as she tried to break free of the officer's hold.
He gave her a scorching glare. "Stun her if you have to." He turned and headed towards Hotch. One look at his face had him faltering. "Hotch?" But he wasn't looking at Derek he was focused on whoever it was on the phone.
"Can you trace the cell, Garcia?" Hotch ran an aggravated hand down his face. "What about getting some feed from the local traffic lights?"
"I don't understand. Do we have a lead?" Morgan turned to Rossi wanting to find out what was going on. Before the other man could answer Hotch was on the move.
"NO! You are not to engage. Do you understand me?!" His roar was deafening as he moved quickly through the club. "Get me a location, Garcia!" Morgan and Rossi were already in pursuit. Reid and Blake were quick to follow.
Bewildered and frustrated Morgan balked before climbing in the vehicle. "Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?" He wasn't happy that they didn't seem to be focusing on the fact that Emily was not in the club and he had been pulled off of his one viable lead.
Rossi responded by shoving him hard. "You better move it, pal or you'll be left behind."
He vaulted into the backseat, just barely, as Hotch gunned the engine and peeled out of the lot. "What the hell are we doing?" He growled, wanting an explanation.
"We have eyewitnesses that saw what they are fairly certain was a body being loaded into a vehicle from behind the club. They were also able to identify the individual that helped him and are currently following the vehicle." Rossi provided, as they raced through town.
"Summer?" Morgan questioned.
"Yep." Rossi confirmed.
"I want roadblocks set up." Hotch barked, weaving his way through the treacherous city traffic. "I need some guidance here, Garcia. Where am I going? I'll need backup. We're going to need some LEO's. This has the very real possibility of going to shit fast." He let out a moan. "No. You are not to leave your vehicle. I swear to God if you do I'll have you arrested for obstruction of justice."
Derek frowned. It was obvious that Hotch was talking to whoever the eyewitness was and he was not happy with the situation. It crossed his mind once more that Hotch looked wrecked then everything suddenly clicked. Morgan leaned forward in his seat, his own panic slightly subsiding. Emily wasn't lost to him. She was being looked after by someone that loved her almost as much as he did. Now all they had to do was stop the bastard. "Please tell me she has her gun."
Thanks for reading! I hope all of you that have been so lovely to review and follow are still with me. I have not abandoned this story (like I would leave Emily in peril!).