Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.
Who We Are
Part 3
By N. J. Borba
Emily knocked and waited, but there was no answer. She opened the door and took a tentative step inside the room. Garcia's office was a contradiction of styles, one half new-age technology, most of which Emily didn't even understand, and one half cutesy curios of every shape, size and color. The technical analyst's sacred space was both futuristic and cozy; very much a reflection of its eclectic occupant. "You got a minute, PG?" she finally called out, announcing her presence.
The redhead spun her chair around and beamed at her friend. "For one of my top ten favorite people, I have at least two minutes," Penelope cheerily responded.
With a grateful smile, Emily fully entered the room and let the door close behind her. She stood there for a moment feeling a bit out of place. Emily knew she was more than welcome in Garcia's work space, but it was her life that felt rather out of sorts at the moment. Everything seemed to be tilting slightly on its axis, leaving Emily with the sense that she was standing on the sidelines watching. After listening to Anna's recollection of her dream and finding the very similar doll in her closet, Emily's thoughts had spent most of Sunday flying off in all sorts of different directions. Now she felt the need to put some facts to her wandering thoughts.
"I could use your help on figuring something out," Emily pulled the stuffed animal from behind her back and held it up to show her co-worker.
"It's a cat in a tutu," Garcia grinned.
The profiler rolled her eyes, knowing it was the sort of smart-assed answer she would have given. "It's a doll I've had since I was very little," she explained.
Penelope's eyes danced with mirth. "Emily Prentiss once had a doll?" she was somewhat surprised by the revelation. "You've always seemed more the type to cuddle up with books at night."
A wan smile perched on Emily's face. "You know me too well," she agreed. "Actually, I've never been particularly fond of this doll, but it was one of the few things my mother insisted I drag around with me from country to country. Even when I would have liked to trash it on more than one occasion."
"Interesting story," Garcia looked intrigued. "Curious, though, why you've come to me to rehash this bit of your childhood?"
Emily fingered the white-cloth tag that was sewn into the seam connecting the cat's tail to its backside. "I was wondering if you could do a trace on this, see if there's any information about the manufacturing company? It claims to be handcrafted, so maybe there's an actual artist?" Emily held the item out to her friend.
Garcia took the cat and read the tag. "Les Petits Jouets," she noted. "The small… toys?"
"Yes," Emily confirmed. "I don't know if you'll find anything from back in the dark ages when I was a kid, but it's kind of important," she let her friend know.
"Hmm…" Penelope mused as she began to type in the search. "Me thinks someone is feeling a little perturbed about her recent birthday, which starred the numbers four and zero… in that order," the woman noted.
A frown drew Emily's bottom lip downward and a sigh escaped. "A lot of people lately seem intent on reminding me how long ago forty years was."
"Well, I hear that forty is the new thirty," Garcia chirped.
"Thanks for that," Emily was touched by the thought behind Penelope's words.
The tech scanned her search results, noticing there were quite a few more than she'd been expecting. "So, how was your weekend?" Garcia maintained a conversation, multitasking as her fingers proceeded computer information and her brain processed the fact that her friend still seemed out of sorts.
"What do you know?" Emily was instantly suspicious, knowing that Garcia and Morgan had been friends longer than she'd known either one of them.
Penelope shrugged. "What do you think I know?"
Emily had entered the BAU with a lot less training than the others on the team where behavioral analysis was concerned, but she'd gotten very good at reading people over the years. "You don't know anything, do you?"
Another half shrug raised the tech's shoulders. "I don't know, maybe," she maintained an air of curiosity with a touch of aloofness.
"Garcia," Emily's drawn-out tone let her friend know that she wanted to end their dance of words.
"Okay, I know nothing," the redhead finally gave in, glancing over her shoulder for a moment. "It's just that you seem a little different this morning, kind of glowy, but perplexed," she eyed her friend before returning her gaze to the computer screen in front of her. "Is it about Derek?"
That name caused Emily's cheeks to flush, despite her best efforts. "Penelope Garcia, tell me what you know," she demanded.
"All I can tell you is what I see," the younger woman replied.
A slight pounding behind her eyeballs made Emily grimace. "Why do I feel like I've been sucked into some Abbot and Costello routine?"
Penelope wasn't ruffled by her friend's comment. "I see two people who have become very good friends, and who would very likely be dating by now if not for their stubborn heads. Because, you see, the biggest problem with the two of you is that you think too much. And, honestly, love isn't about thinking. In fact, people who fall in love are really rather stupid, they just let themselves go and put it all on the line. But you two, you don't know how to let go and be stupid."
"This is your advice… to be stupid?" Emily scoffed.
"I'm being serious here," Garcia insisted. "Love is about risk. You risk your lives every day for other people's safety and happiness. So, why can't you risk a little for your selves, for your own happiness? If you never go for it you'll never know what you could be missing."
"He certainly went for it with that kiss, but I wasn't…" Emily stopped short, realizing her mistake only too late. "I didn't just say that. You didn't hear…"
But it was too late, because Garcia's eyes had nearly popped out of her head. "I heard you say kiss. What kiss? When?"
"Penelope," Emily sighed, shaking her head as she pulled back into her shell. "I really don't have time to re-live high school right now. I need to find something about this stupid cat. So, can we just focus on that?"
Garcia knew well enough to leave it alone, at least for the time being. She easily slid back into sleuth mode. "The best result I've got is a toy boutique in the French town of Grenoble. They've prided themselves on having handmade crafts and toys for more than half a century now. Local artisans make the dolls and they even have an online archive that lists all current and former artists."
"Is the ballerina cat pattern one of a kind?" Emily asked the most pertinent question on her mind.
"From what I can tell, there've been a few artists who crochet that particular design. Apparently you can look them up by the initials on the tags," Garcia explained, turning her attention back to the stuffed animal in her lap. "This one has a C.B. on it, so let's take a look at the list…" Penelope trailed off a moment as she scrolled through the artist list. "There are three C.B. listings: Celine Barrineau, Charlotte Benoit, and Celeste Boyet."
Emily felt queasy. "Charlotte Benoit was my maternal grandmother's name," she said as her head began to swim again. "She grew up in Grenoble and immigrated to the US as a teenager. My grandfather also immigrated, they met in Boston where they married and lived until nana died when I was seven years old. Papa stayed a few years longer until he retired to France," she was mostly thinking out loud, trying to create a timeline for the toy's creation, but things weren't aligning very well for her. "Is there any way to find out how many of each design were made, or in what years?"
"Well," Garcia began. "Handmade usually indicates one of a kind. However, as I cruise the site pictures, it looks like there's some repetition of patterns. Take a look at this one from a current artist," Penelope showed her friend the screen, which revealed a picture of a stuffed ballerina cat that bore a striking resemblance to Emily's.
"Are they sold or advertised anywhere in the US?" Emily pressed the matter.
"No, but they ship to the US. And anyone could find them on the web like I just did," Garcia relayed. "Is this about a case?" she finally asked.
"I'm not sure what it's about," Emily replied as she retrieved the cat and exited Penelope's lair without another word.
xxx
The team was gathered when she entered the conference room, everyone aside from Garcia who she'd just left, and Hotch who was at a budget meeting. Emily was thankful of her boss's absence. He'd stated his feelings on the matter of helping Anna Wallace, which was that they could do it on their own time. Since it was 8am on a Monday morning, it was technically work time. Their schedule lacked anything pressing, but that didn't mean Hotch would be pleased by the gathering. So, she sat down at the round table, placed the stuffed cat in front of her and didn't bother building to a climax in her story. She simply spit out the words that had been plaguing her since Saturday night, and hoped for a speedy discussion. Emily figured they'd either support her, or think she was completely crazy.
"I think Anna might be my sister," she stated.
"Your what?" JJ asked.
Reid could only sum up his shock in the simple syllable of, "Huh?"
"I wasn't even aware that you had a sister," Rossi used a few less-obvious words of surprise.
Emily digested their comments, but she couldn't help notice that Derek was starring at her without saying a single word. "I don't," she turned to Rossi as she spoke.
Dave slumped back in his chair a little, left hand rubbing his chin. "Well, that certainly cleared things up," he kept his eyes aimed at her. Just because he was a bit confused by her statement didn't mean he wasn't also very curious.
She noticed Derek's gaze was still locked on to her. He looked like he wanted to push her away and pull her close all at once. Emily faced Rossi again. "I grew up an only child. As far as I know I don't have any siblings, but there's something about Anna that makes me think she's my sister; a gut feeling."
"I suppose it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility," Reid spoke up, springing back into his usual clinical and wordy self. "I read about a study once in which a group of grown men, who hadn't grown up with their biological mothers, were placed in a room with twenty different women their mother's age. Nine out of ten of them correctly identified their mothers, instinctively drawn to them even though they'd never met before," he explained.
An appreciative smile cracked Emily's veneer. "Thank you."
Reid nodded, glad to have given her some credibility. But he also couldn't help himself from continuing his train of thought. "However," he held one hand out, fingers slightly crooked. Some days the others weren't sure if he knew how to talk without the use of his hands. "That study was performed with willing participants," he explained. "As well as birth mothers who had stipulated a desire to meet their child someday… whereas, you really have nothing to base your feelings on."
JJ saw the disappointed look on Emily's face after Reid had lifted her spirits and simultaneously crushed them again. "What exactly is pushing you toward this feeling of Anna being your sister?" she asked. "Granted, there is some slight physical similarity, but other than that…" JJ left the question open-ended; realizing nothing solid had been presented to support the idea.
Emily reached for the cat, feeling for the first time that a stuffed animal was hardly real evidence. She stubbornly maintained her position, though. "I've had this toy for as long as I can remember, and it was very likely hand crocheted by my grandmother. I also remember my mother often told me that it had once belonged to another little girl," Emily informed them before she recounted Anna's dream.
"Anna showing up out of the blue was rather unusual," Rossi spoke up again. "But this dream/doll connection is kind of spooky," he had to admit. "Honestly, I think your only option, if you're really adamant about pursuing this, is to talk to your parents."
"I know," Emily agreed.
There was really nothing left to be said after that and they all departed the meeting with mixed emotions. The only person who'd remain completely silent throughout the short gathering trailed after Emily as she grabbed her things and made her way to the elevator. "Hey," Derek finally spoke as they waited for the doors to open.
"You think I've lost my mind, don't you?" Emily asked as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She stepped inside and hit the parking garage button.
Morgan was torn for a second, but jumped in just as the doors were rolling shut. They dropped two floors before he finally found his voice again. "I didn't say that, Emily," he replied to her earlier comment.
"You didn't have to," she responded, aiming her gaze in his direction. "I know that look on your face, Morgan. It's the same one you were wearing when I suggested that my friend Matthew might have been killed during an exorcism. You didn't want any part of that theory," she concluded.
He nodded. "You're right, but I stood by you."
Emily felt the tight hold she was keeping on her emotions slip a little bit. "Yeah, you did," she acknowledged.
"Friends don't always agree on everything, and that's okay," Derek stated his belief. "But the good ones stick around, no matter what," he added, his hand reaching up to her shoulder where it gave a soft squeeze and rested for a moment. "So, could you use a friend on this?" Morgan asked as the doors opened to the basement parking level. "Because I could tag along if you'd like," he offered.
They stepped off the elevator into the cool, dimly lit garage. His hand remained at her shoulder, causing Emily to feel extremely unworthy of his friendship after the way she'd retreated from him on Saturday morning. But he was still there beside her, not backing down, which gave her a small hope that she hadn't completely ruined everything. "I would like that," she agreed.
Derek guided her to his vehicle, insisting on driving. Neither one of them spoke much more than was necessary during the course of their trip, Emily to give directions to her mother's place, and he to acknowledge. They easily avoided the topic of their Saturday morning encounter, each knowing it was causing a rift between them that had never been there before. As much as Emily wanted to keep running away from the matter, it was something she knew they needed to discuss eventually. At the moment, though, they proceeded with their mission as professionals.
Her mother's building was historic, with lots of exterior brick and dark wood interiors. The ambassador's assistant showed them in to the main office. Emily had visited her mother there before and seen the small personal touches, photographs and books neatly arranged on shelves. It was very similar to so many places she and her parents had lived around the world; large house with embassy offices on the ground floor and living areas nestled on the upper stories. She remembered trying to sneak into her mother's various offices as a curious child, and often trying to edge her way out of them as an annoyed teenager.
Elizabeth Prentiss finished signing some papers before she stood and acknowledged her guests. "Agent Morgan, isn't it?" she stepped around her desk and reached out to shake his hand.
Derek nodded with a friendly smile, even though he was a bit put off by the way she'd side-stepped her own daughter to greet him. "Yes, ma'am. It's nice to see you again," he took her hand and shook.
"I'd be inclined to return the sentiment, agent Morgan, if it weren't for the dismal looks on your faces," Elizabeth took a step to her right and kissed Emily chastely on the cheek. "Is this visit about a case you're working on?"
Emily wrung her hands, still feeling like she was twelve years old in her mother's presence. A few years ago they'd been on a path to understanding one another a little better, but as her mother continued to go without a proper assignment she'd slowly closed herself up again. "Is daddy around?" Emily asked, seeking out the man who'd always been the closer of her two parents, although that wasn't saying much.
The older woman's head of dark hair shook in reply. "He's in Denver on business and won't be back till tomorrow morning," Elizabeth explained, scrutinizing her daughter's presence. "Why are you stalling? Is there something wrong I should know about? Because if there's not, I actually do have some work to get to."
"Do I have a sister you never told me about?" Emily blurted out.
Even though Morgan typically found Emily's candidness endearing, it was sometimes grossly out of place. Her earlier outburst to the team, and now with her mother, had him more than a little worried about her state of mind. Although, what little he knew about her mother lead him to believe that candor was a trait Emily had come by honestly. He imagined getting straight to the point was a useful tool when dealing with foreign dignitaries, as it was with an UnSub. However, Derek felt the current, delicate, matter called for a little more finesse. "Why don't we all have a seat so we can discuss this," he motioned toward a leather sofa across the room.
"I don't want to sit," the ambassador replied, barely paying attention to Derek as she stared at her daughter with a perplexed and slightly worried look. "What is this about a sister?" she asked. "You know you're an only child, Emily. You're the only child I have."
"Did daddy ever have an affair?" Emily didn't bat an eye as she asked the question, knowing her parent's marriage had its ups and downs.
"Emily," Derek was the one to admonish her, feeling like a referee.
"Maybe he had another child before me, and the doll was hers," she didn't let up.
"No," Elizabeth's word was firm, confident. "What has gotten into you?" she asked her daughter. "You know your father and I married very young; straight out of high school. We both attended college before we even thought about having a family and then you came along very shortly after graduation."
Emily finally took a moment to breath, realizing she'd been holding her breath for a while. When the air left her chest she felt somewhat deflated, but she still had one ace in the hole. She pulled the stuffed cat out of her bag and showed it to her mother. Then she launched into a condensed version of Anna's arrival and the doll's connection. "You always told me the doll used to belong to another little girl, and I'm fairly certain nana Benoit made it."
"Yes, she did," her mother confirmed, reaching out to stroke the cat's soft orange yarn-fur. "She made it for me when I was little," Elizabeth revealed. "I'm the girl I told you about, Emily," she further explained. "I don't think I've seen this in years. You used to be inseparable from this thing when you were four years old."
None of her mother's explanation was what Emily had expected, but it made perfect sense. "I'm sorry I wasted your time, mother." She glanced over at Derek and made it clear to him she was ready to go.
Derek was once more concerned about Emily's fluctuating mood, accusing one second and complacent the next. But he followed her lead toward the exit. They were nearly out the door when the ambassador called after her daughter. "Emily."
She turned at the sound of her name. "Yes?"
"Maybe when your father returns from Denver the three of us could have dinner," Elizabeth suggested. "We did miss out on celebrating your birthday last week."
No emotion, happy or sad, graced Emily's features as she nodded. "That would be nice." With that, she and Derek exited the room and weaved through the ornate entry hall which spilled outside into the parking area. They climbed into Derek's SUV, but he didn't start it up right away.
He regarded the woman beside him for a moment. It had been hard to read her in the context of her mother's presence. In just that short amount of interaction he'd seen the ambassador go from somewhat ignoring her child to an offer of dinner for her birthday. Of course, the whole team had been there to share a meal with Emily on the actual day of her birthday while her parents had been up in Boston. Now, as he sat beside Emily, worried about her state of mind, he thought she looked very much like a little girl. Lost and confused. "Do you think she was lying?" he finally asked.
Emily shrugged. "I have no reason to," she replied. "In fact, my mother has always been brutally honest with me in everything from my choice of boyfriends to my career path and sometimes even the clothes I wanted to wear, although the clothing issue was mostly isolated to my rebellious teen years."
Derek thought the part about having brutally honest parents had also contributed to her personality trait of being honest to a fault. "If your mother is telling the truth, where do Anna's dream and her knowledge of the cat fit in?"
She heard the question he was posing, but she also heard accusation in his tone. "What are you trying to say, Morgan?"
"Was the cat stored somewhere at your place?" he asked.
"Yes. In a box in my walk-in closet."
"Was the box locked? Was the closet or the door to your room locked?"
"No, none of them were," Emily replied, still not following his line of thinking.
Morgan took a deep breath. "So, Anna had time alone in your place while we were at the park on Saturday. She could have easily found the item and seen a perfect opportunity to make up a story you might believe," Derek finally laid it all out for her. "Anna waited until that night to tell you about her dream. After she'd had time to find the cat," he concluded.
Emily felt sick to her stomach as his words began to make sense, but she still wasn't convinced. "To what end, though?" she asked.
"You said you thought she seemed determined about more than just finding her family. Think about it, Emily. She has no money… no place to live and no job…"
"And that automatically means she's trying to extort money from me by pretending to be my sister or something?" Emily grew even more disturbed by his scenario, yet she was letting some of it start to sink into the rational side of her brain.
He nodded morosely. "It's a type of identity theft. She sucks you in, becomes your friend and then tries to take over your life."
Her head rested against the back of the seat as a puff of breath slid out from deep within her belly. "God, this is all so…" Emily wasn't sure what to say, but she still didn't feel right about any of it. "That's not the feeling I get from Anna at all, but…" she sighed again, unable to wrap her mind around that sort of deception.
Derek wanted to comfort her, to tell her his theory was probably a bunch of garbage, but he wasn't yet convinced one way or the other. And he couldn't lie to her about how he felt. Thankfully, the ringing of his cell phone provided a distraction. "Morgan," he answered. Derek nodded along to what the woman at the other end was saying. "Yeah, JJ, we'll be right there," he ended the call and looked to Emily. "Another girl in Nell Campbell's kindergarten class is missing. Amy Ralls didn't show up for school this morning. Local police have called us in and Hotch wants to leave in an hour. Is your go bag at work?"
"Yes," Emily replied. "But what do I do about Anna and Michelle while we're gone?"
xxx
The eastern Washington scenery was green, gold and brown. A few houses dotted the horizon, but mostly there were vast acres of rolling farmland spread out like a patchwork quilt. They turned onto a road that sent them downhill for several miles, snaking into a canyon. "You told her where you had some cash hidden?" Derek asked his passenger. Morgan was puzzled by her revelation, even as he tried to concentrate on navigating the steep and unfamiliar road.
He and Emily were in another SUV, though this time several thousand miles across the country and heading down to a crime scene along the Snake River. It was the same thing they did so often, pairing up to track an UnSub. Neither one of them was quite sure how it had first happened that they were partnered up in the field, but in the ensuing years it had almost become a given that they'd be assigned to clear a building, tag-team a suspect for questioning or have each other's backs when facing off with a killer. It was, in part, that symbiotic relationship which had caused them to become closer than most co-workers. There was something about putting your life on the line for someone else that quickly bonded you for good. However, it didn't stop them from disagreeing on matters.
"I withdrew the money on Saturday, thinking there'd be the possibility of them needing cash if I went out of town on a case," Emily explained. "It just so happens that this case provided the perfect opportunity to test your theory about Anna," she concluded.
"Wait a minute, my theory?" Derek didn't care for the allegation in her words. "I thought you were with me on this?"
"No. I may not think she's my sister any more, but I'm certainly not as quick as you were to jump on the gold digging band wagon," Emily clarified. "I just can't believe that she would be that sinister."
"Can't believe? Or won't?" he challenged.
Emily knew he was right, and she hated when he was right. She continually battled her love/hate relationship with the fact that he knew her so well. It seemed best to keep her mouth shut as the road leveled out and curved to the left. The river was wide and the canyon deep, a decent reflection of her emotions at the moment. Every time Derek brushed close to the surface of her feelings, she dove a little deeper into her personal canyon. Therefore, work seemed the safest thing to focus on.
They'd landed at noon local time, and by four o'clock they already had a pretty good idea who their UnSub was. His name had turned up on the class rosters of the three college professors whose children had been taken; two murdered, one still missing. Peter Grayson was a 4.0 student who'd recently lost his mother to breast cancer. His first assignment below the 'A' mark had been followed closely by the first girl's death. Peter had taken Tara's life in exchange for the grade her father had given him.
Derek negotiated the two-lane highway where they caught glimpses of the river against a setting sun. Ten minutes down the road they came to the site where five-year-old Tara Jennings had been dumped. The area was a large rocky hill dubbed: Granite Point. It was a famous local hangout where students climbed, partied and jumped into the river on hot summer days. Morgan pulled their dark SUV alongside a silver Chevy S-10. "That's Grayson's truck," he noted.
She nodded and was about to dial Hotch when she spotted a figure above them. The steel of their UnSub's weapon reflected sunlight, giving him away. "Morgan!"
"I see him!" Derek jumped out of the vehicle and set off after the man.
Emily punched in the speed dial number on her phone as she drew her gun and followed after Morgan. They climbed the rocky slope and Emily paused half way up to relay their situation to Hotch. She then pocketed her phone and placed both hands back on her weapon as she crested the ridge. "Morgan?" she called out.
"Stay back or I swear I'll drop her!" Grayson's frantic voice relayed.
It didn't take Emily long to assess the situation. Peter Grayson was standing on the cliff edge with a blonde-headed Amy Ralls in his arms. He was dangling her precariously above the river, which was a good thirty feet below them. Derek was right in front of Grayson, legs spread shoulder width apart and gun aimed. "You have nowhere to go, man," Morgan spoke, gently trying to defuse the situation. "Don't do this because of some grade. We all slip up now and then."
"Help me, please," Amy's frightened voice pleaded.
Emily smiled for the girl's benefit. "You're going to be okay, sweetheart," she told the child. "Just hang on."
"No, she has to die so her father will understand," Grayson shook his head, glancing over at the girl in his arms. "I have to make my mother proud. She was supposed to watch me graduate this spring, but now she won't be there. I have to try even harder to make her proud. My grades need to be perfect."
Morgan groaned. "I'm sure she was plenty proud of you, Peter, despite the grades you made," he tried to reassure the young man. "But hurting this girl isn't going to make your mother proud at all."
"She'll be proud of me," Peter mumbled as he loosened his hold on the girl. "She will," he insisted before letting go of Amy.
"No!" Emily shouted as she helplessly watched the child go over the side, screaming on the way down. There was a loud splash below and her heart seized. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Morgan chasing after Grayson, but she left her partner's side to peer over the cliff. Emily saw Amy floundering in the water below and barely gave her actions a single thought. She carefully placed her gun on the ground and then jumped in after the girl.
The cold water was a shock, but Emily recovered quickly and spotted Amy struggling to keep her head above the surface. Emily's left arm went around the child and she was thankful for all those summers at their beach house in Maine where she'd learned to become a strong swimmer in the frigid Atlantic. She held fast to the child, whispering soft assurances to the girl as she swam them toward the shore.
Derek was there to help them up. "Where's Grayson?" Emily asked.
"Restrained in the back of the SUV. He tried to take off, so I had to cuff one wrist to the opposite ankle so he couldn't run." Derek carried a crying Amy as they climbed up the bank and onto the road. "Jumping off that cliff was really stupid, Prentiss. You could have gotten yourself killed."
"You would have done the same thing," she replied, standing there dripping and shivering.
He nodded. "Exactly, because I do stupid things like that," Morgan acknowledged. "But you don't, Emily. I'm worried about you. I know that dream you keep having is compelling you to help everyone you can, which is why you were looking for a quick fix with Anna. Making her your sister would have given her an instant family, but you can't help everyone that easily. And needlessly risking your life as a way to compensate isn't healthy behavior."
Emily tenderly caressed the child's wet cheek as Derek sat her on a rock to check for injuries. "Amy is alive. I'm alive," she pointed out to him, her eyes clouding over with a dangerous haze. "I did my job out there, and I can help whoever I please. So, I sincerely suggest you stop profiling me," Emily snapped.
To Be Continued…