Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.
Who We Are
Part 17
By N. J. Borba
Emily sat on a kid-sized blue plastic chair in Michelle's classroom. An apple-printed border outlined a bulletin board to her left. A dozen drawings of the solar system adorned the board, displayed proudly with multi-colored push-pins. Two rows of desks and chairs faced the front white boards and a larger wood desk was situated off to the right side of the space. Michelle's backpack was on the floor next to her as Emily went through the girl's cell phone. It had been turned off and in the bottom of her bag, as per school rules. Emily knew some of the kids took them outside on the playground, but she'd told Michelle she didn't think that was acceptable.
There were no recent calls, just one unread text from Ellie that said good morning; morning L.A. time, which meant it had only recently been sent. She turned the phone off and finally gave her full attention to the little girl seated across from her. She had ebony skin and pigtails with ribbons. "You saw Michelle on the playground, Alisha?" Emily asked. She recalled hearing the name Alisha Sawyer before; when Michelle had appointed her the closest friend she'd made at school so far.
"Yes," the nine-year-old replied softly. "She was at the end of the school yard, near the fence. Daniel Ratbreath had been teasing her about not having any parents, and saying she'd have to go to a new school because she couldn't afford this one," Alisha looked pained even repeating the words.
And it pained Emily to hear them. She knew how cruel kids could be, but she was having a hard time restraining herself from tracking the boy down and doing something to him she'd regret. "Ratbreath?" Emily finally settled on questioning the boy's last name.
"It's really Rathborn, but lots of kids call him Ratbreath," Alisha revealed. "Because he's a big meanie to everyone."
"Did Michelle ever call him that?"
Alisha shook her head. "No. I like Michelle. She's funny and nice. I'm kind of shy, but she always gets me to talk," the girl smiled.
A small smile crept across Emily's face as well, having further proof of her niece's good nature. "So, this Daniel kid stopped bugging her after she took off?" Emily continued, hoping to find something more constructive. She watched the girl nod. "And what happened after that?"
"I left Michelle alone for a little while, but then I saw her talking to the lady and I was worried," Alisha relayed.
"What lady?"
The girl shrugged. "I didn't know her. She was older like my grandparents and she was real dirty. Her clothes were raggy and she smelled bad when I got close enough to notice," Alisha reported. "She asked if Michelle would help her find her missing cat."
"Alisha, can you tell me anything about what the woman looked like," Emily continued. "Her hair color or her eyes?"
"Um, her hair was dark and her eyes too," the girl replied.
"You're sure about that?" Emily sought clarification, worried that she hadn't identified Margaret's green eyes. Like Michelle's, they were pretty distinctive.
"I am," Alisha maintained. "Michelle told the lady she was sorry about her cat, but that we couldn't leave school grounds. Then Dana Martin came over and asked if we wanted to jump rope. I wanted to but Michelle didn't. I said I'd stay with her, but she wanted me to go play. So, I did," the girl said, her voice a little softer. "And then I didn't see her again."
Emily nodded, taking hold of the girl's left hand. "It's okay, Alisha. You answered my questions really well. And I'm glad you've been a friend to Michelle."
"You'll find her, right?" the child asked as they both stood and walked toward the door.
"Yes," Emily replied with conviction. "I will," she ushered the girl into the hall where Michelle's teacher had been waiting for them.
The petite red-head took hold of Alisha's hand, but she stayed close to the classroom door. "I'm so sorry about all of this, Ms. Prentiss. I was one of the teachers on playground duty earlier. But there are a hundred kids out there at any one time, running this way and that. I just… I'm so sorry," she apologized again.
"I know," Emily had been a little loud at first; voicing her distaste of how the school had handled the situation. But she'd calmed down enough to realize Margaret had probably been planning the attack for a long time, and she knew the teachers and Principal had numerous other kids to worry about on a daily basis.
She watched the teacher guide Alisha back toward the cafeteria as Hotch, Morgan and Rossi approached her. "Did the girl have anything to contribute?" Hotch asked.
"Something about Michelle talking to a homeless woman through the fence," Emily explained. "Apparently she was looking for a cat," her shoulders shrugged.
"One of the most common child abduction ruses," Rossi pointed out. "But a homeless woman?"
"Alisha's description didn't match Margaret, aside from age," Emily said. "She could be in disguise, though. Colored contacts maybe?"
"There's a shelter and soup kitchen about two blocks east of here," Hotch nodded in the direction. "Small homeless population hangs around that area. It's not entirely unlikely that some woman wandered this far off the beaten path."
"But it seems pretty coincidental," Morgan noted. "Even if it wasn't Margaret."
Emily sighed. "You think it was a distraction?"
Derek shrugged. "Maybe to throw us off Margaret's trail," he tossed out a theory.
"Rossi, Morgan," Hotch spoke up again. "You're with me. I want to check out that soup kitchen and see if we can't track this homeless woman."
"I'd like to go along," Emily said.
Hotch's head dipped a fraction of an inch. "I want you to stay here, keep talking to the kids and teachers with Reid. Find out if anyone else saw something. JJ's got the Amber Alert handled and she's heading back. I also had her issue a press release, but she may want you and your parents to make a plea on the news," he glanced down at his watch. "We'll all regroup here in twenty-five minutes," he concluded, knowing time was of the essence.
Morgan caught her attention. "Sorry," he apologized for leaving her behind before catching up with Hotch and Rossi who were already half-way down the hall.
She sighed in frustration. Her eyes roamed the brightly lit hallway. It was wide and decorated at several intervals with bulletin boards. Kindergarten through fourth grade art adorned the boards. The older kids' classrooms were housed on the second floor. She'd always seen the place filled with kids, never so empty and quiet. And at the very end of the hall, seated on a bench outside the principal's office, Emily spotted her parents. Her father was chatting with a police officer who nodded in Emily's direction. The police office remained standing guard by the front door where her mother remained, but her father moved down the hall.
Joseph Prentiss was dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt with a blue and red chevron-patterned tie. Emily figured he'd been getting ready for work when the call came. Her mother had been officially retired for over a month, but her father maintained his CEO position at the business he'd taken over from his father forty years ago. He greeted his daughter with a kiss to her cheek, not caring that she'd been keeping her distance from them for months. "Any word?" he asked.
His voice sounded like that of a frightened little boy, rather than the man whose tone she often recalled booming around their house. "A small lead, but it might not be anything," Emily conveyed the news. "You and mom should go home. I'll call if…" she caught herself. "When we know something more." Even though Hotch had mentioned doing a news piece with them, she figured she could handle it on her own.
"Can't go home," his head shook. "Can't sit still." He ran a hand over his gray head of hair and leaned heavily against the wall outside of Michelle's classroom. "Before Richard contacted us about having taken Ch… Anna, there were about three nights when we didn't know what had happened. The police were out looking, but I couldn't sit still. I drove for hours, up and down streets and alleys," he recalled. "I relived my whole life in those hours, just driving along with my memories. But none of it seemed to amount to much until I got to the age of sixteen."
Emily resisted the urge to push him away, to tell him she was too busy trying to find Michelle to listen to him rehash his life. "Why sixteen?" Emily found she was too curious to send him off.
The light in his eyes suddenly returned. "Because, when I was sixteen I met a beautiful girl with dark hair and brown eyes that twinkled with an air of superiority and a whole lot of mischief," he spoke with a smile and a reflective tone. "She attended the all-girls high school down the block from my private all-boys school. I watched her walk home several times and thought I'd never stand a chance with a beautiful, smart girl like her." He chuckled softly.
"What I didn't know at the time was that she'd noticed me too. I found out later that she didn't think she stood a chance with me because I was from a very well-to-do family. My father and step-mother having more money than they knew what to do with half the time. Always traveling the globe, flinging money at charities like it was water. Come to find out, this girl I'd been interested in was rather poor. Her parents were immigrants from France; they worked hard and saved the best they could, but still barely got by. And the girl only attended that fine, expensive, school because she'd worked her ass off to get scholarships."
"You're talking about mom?" Emily was surprised.
"Yes," he nodded. "When I finally gained the courage to talk to her one day I discovered her name was Elizabeth, but she preferred Liz. She thought it made her sound less regal, more glitzy like a movie star, like Liz Taylor who she idolized."
Emily shook her head even before he'd stopped speaking. "My mother idolized a movie star?" She didn't believe it. Her level-headed mother, all business, strict and proper, had actually idolized an actress of all people.
"She did," Joseph insisted. "She even dragged me to every one of Liz Taylor's movies. And half the time she had to sneak out of her parent's apartment to do it."
To say Emily was flabbergasted by that nugget of information was a small understatement. "My mother snuck out?"
His nod that time was more emphatic. "She made up all sorts of excuses, usually that she was going to be down the block studying at Molly Flannigan's place. And she did head down the block, but as soon as she rounded the corner of 10th street I was always there waiting. Liz would have a bag with her and she'd duck behind this large hedge to change. When she'd reemerge she would be wearing some hip-hugging dress or a skirt cut well above her knees and she'd slide into the passenger seat of my convertible and away we'd go. We'd head to the movie theater, or drive down the coast, sometimes we'd only make it as far as a nearby park."
"I think I get the idea," Emily stopped him. Her head shook again, still not quite believing everything he'd just told her. "Why have I never heard these things before?"
"Your mother vowed never to tell you. She didn't want to put ideas into your head," he chuckled. "But you turned out a lot like her anyhow."
She cracked a small smile. "Derek says we're more alike than either of us want to admit."
"Indeed," her father agreed. "I even recall watching you as a child, wanting to imitate her," he saw Emily's doubtful look. "Yes," he insisted. "I remember coming across you some days, you'd be seated on the floor outside her office. And you'd have your hand shaped like a telephone and pressed to your ear, silently mouthing everything you heard her saying inside her office," he recalled. "That was before you decided to become a super hero."
Emily was pretty sure she'd never heard her father speak so openly and happily about the past. He reminded her so much of Anna at the moment, how she'd always managed to put a smile on her face, no matter the dire situation. "So, what happened to her?" she asked. "Mother? When did she lose all that recklessness?"
"We were foolish," Joseph admitted, his mind slinking back to those days. "We weren't careful at all. She got pregnant and her parents insisted we get married. That was the end of her childhood. Just like that I snatched it away from her. She was different after that; she wanted everything to be better for her child, better than it had been for her. She wanted the finest schools, clothing, and a nice house. But she didn't want money from my father; she wanted us to make it on our own. She wanted me to work for my father, really work. Make a name for myself. And she set to studying, finishing up her high school course work and diving into college," he paused.
"She grew very serious, and yet I was still stuck in boyhood," Joseph revealed. "What I told Anna about fixing that cradle was true, and the stories about her being my princess. I treated it all like a game; like your mother and I were just playing 'house'. I loved them both dearly, but where your mother would buckle down and study even after taking care of Anna all day, I'd flee our small apartment. I'd meet up with my buddies, and there'd be drinking and dancing, and girls. Lots of girls."
An annoyed breath was released through Emily's nose. "Maybe I don't want to hear any more."
But he was already too lost in the past to stop. "I never did anything like that. But I had opportunities, plenty of them. And I shirked my duties at work. My father was giving me a chance to learn it all, the whole business. He said it could be mine some day. But I was too busy having fun to care." Joseph took a shallow breath. "I can't really blame your mother for what she did. And she was so ashamed. She came home that night and told me everything. I didn't really listen, though. I exploded; I said some horrible things to her. I was so glad our little girl had been at her grandparent's place that night; glad she never heard those things. Then I stormed off. I left."
"But you came back," Emily whispered.
"But first I stole a huge chuck of cash from my father's office. I stayed at a hotel, I drank myself silly," he recalled. "For nearly two months I did all that. I didn't go to work; I just wallowed in my miseries. Your mother called several times, but I always hung up on her. Then one day the phone rang. I was half way sober after sleeping off a pretty bad binge. I answered the phone and there was a pause for a moment. I said hello a second time and then this impossibly soft, whispery voice came on the line. And she said, "Daddy, when are you coming home?"
"Anna," Emily said, her nose tingling, on the verge of tears.
He nodded remorsefully. "That was it. My wake-up call. I went home, I forgave your mother. She told me she was pregnant and that it might not be mine. I told her it was. I told her it didn't matter."
"You forgave her, just like that?" she thought it seemed unbelievable.
"I did," Joseph replied. "I did it because I loved her. And I loved your sister. And that's all that matter," he smiled. "Anna was right about that. Our lives are only defined by love," he echoed his late daughter's words. "As difficult as things got at times I always loved your mother, and she loved me. And for a short time it was good. It was very, very good, Emily. And even when it wasn't good, it was still better than divorce, or sitting in a hotel by myself with a bottle of booze."
Her fingers picked at the hem of her royal-blue blouse. "Why did you just tell me all that?"
A shrug raised his left shoulder. "Because I want you to know your mother and I were never perfect, but we tried to do the right thing for our family." He smiled, still seeing uncertainty clouding her eyes. "And I want you to know that when I look at you, I never see him."
She swallowed, knowing what he meant. "Why not?"
"Because the day you were born, I was there and he wasn't," Joseph told her. "I remember that day more clearly than any other. It still wasn't very common for fathers to be in the birthing room, but I wanted to be there. I hadn't been for Anna, but I wanted everything to be different for you. Perfect. So I was there, I held your mother's hand; I watched her sweat through hours of pushing. I listened to her scream about how stubborn you were. Just like your father, she'd said, meaning me," he grinned.
"And then you were crying and covered in goop, and so beautiful. Your mother had fallen asleep by the time the nurses brought you back to us after cleaning you up and checking you over. So I was the first one to hold you," he beamed proudly. "And I swear you opened your eyes and looked right at me. It was like you knew exactly who I was. And you gave me this challenging stare that let me known you'd grow up to kick my ass if I wasn't a good dad to you."
Emily laughed; an actual merry sound that drifted down the hall. She watched as her mother got to her feet, probably thinking they'd both lost their minds. Laughing when Michelle was God only knew where. Emily reached out to touch her father's shoulder. "I don't think any ass kicking is in order yet," she assured him.
His smile was thankful. "I promised to do it all better with you, and I tried. But after Charlotte was gone, it was hard. Your mother retreated inside herself, she dove into work headlong. And there were so many years of us being apart, you with your mother overseas, and me back here with the business. It was hard," he repeated.
She nodded her understanding as Reid emerged into their line of sight from a cross hallway, the one Emily knew led to the cafeteria. He walked toward them with a young boy at his side. "Emily," he greeted her. "Mr. Prentiss," Spencer's head bowed a little when he spoke the man's name. Then he motioned toward the dark-haired boy. "This is Daniel, he was just telling me something in the cafeteria that I thought you might want to hear," Reid relayed.
Her mind retreated to what Alisha had told her. "Daniel Rathborn?" she asked the boy.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered politely. "I was afraid to say anything earlier, because I… I was really mean to Michelle this morning."
"Alisha told me what you said," Emily was surprised to hear him admit his faults, but curious.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized.
He looked her straight in the eye and seemed genuinely remorseful, but Emily wasn't concerned with forgiving him at the moment. "Dr. Reid said you had something to say," she prodded.
"Just that I saw Michelle walk around to the backside of the school at recess," he told her. "It was after Alisha went to jump rope with Dana. And when we were lining up to go back inside I wanted to tell her I was sorry," the boy paused. "My real parents died when I was a baby and I was adopted. I got teased a lot, but I fought back by becoming the teaser. But when I did it to Michelle, I felt really bad. I didn't see her in line so I ran behind the school thinking I might try to apologize and make sure she didn't get into trouble for being late. But she wasn't there," he concluded.
Emily couldn't stay angry at the child. "Thank you for telling me all that," she said. Her eyes flicked to Reid. "Walk him back; I want to check that area of the school."
Reid took off and Emily conveyed to her parents that they should stay put outside the principal's office. Then she headed outside. She surveyed the area around back and found a narrow concrete pathway that ran the length of the building. It was lined by a row of densely planted evergreen hedges. Beyond that was a row of parking and then a fairly busy street. There were no windows on that side of the school, and she only found one door that was labeled as a delivery access. Emily opened the door and discovered a hallway. She could see the lunch room to her right and bathrooms to the left.
She quickly grabbed Reid from the cafeteria and led him outside. Emily stepped past the hedges while he remained close to the school. "I can't see you from here," she announced, rejoining him shortly.
"I couldn't see you either," he let her know.
"Margaret could have easily had a vehicle parked here and snatched Michelle without anyone from the school seeing her," Emily said.
"Still seems likely that someone on the street might have seen something," Reid added. "Or someone across the road. There's a lot of activity around here."
"Not if they saw what they'd been expecting," Emily countered. They reentered through the door and Emily sought out the principal. She was a tall woman, heavy set with dark rimmed glasses and jet-black hair pulled back in a bun. Emily had spoken with her before and found her looming presence to be softened by a kind voice and gentle authority. "Who's been in and out through that door this morning?" she pointed to the service door. "Do you keep a roster?" Emily questioned Davies.
"Mrs. Walsh is the lead kitchen person; she's been here for fifteen years. Her duties go beyond the kitchen, accepting and signing for deliveries, keeping tabs on the janitorial staff that comes in every morning," the principal explained.
Reid glanced toward the kitchen where it looked like the cooks were arranging a meal for the kids. It wasn't quite lunch time yet, but he imagined the food was more to comfort the children after the upheaval of their morning. "Could you ask her to come speak with us right now?"
Davies nodded. "Of course, just a minute," she left them and returned promptly with a woman in her fifties, brown eyes, white apron and gray locks matted down in a hair net. "These agents need to know about the janitorial staff you checked in this morning and any deliveries," the principal addressed the woman.
"Well, there was Ray and Lola Landry," the woman began. "They do the bathrooms every morning, small company, just the husband and wife team. School board mandates we have a male janitor clean the boy's room, and a female do the girl's restroom, in case any kids enter while they're cleaning. They were gone by 9am. We got a pretty big delivery from Borden Frozen Foods at 7am this morning, same as every Monday. And a milk order came in from Smyth Dairy at about 10am."
"10am is close to the recess time, right?" Emily asked.
Walsh and Davies nodded. "Morning recess is 10 to 10:30," the Principal confirmed.
"Who was the milk delivery person?" Reid asked. "A familiar face?"
"Guy named Brad Handler," Walsh replied. "He's been on the route for about two years. And Principal Davies conducted a staff meeting about that woman, Margaret Wilson," she added. "We got a flyer on what she looks like. I studied it, we all have. We've been very diligent about who goes in this school."
Emily smiled graciously. "I know, and I appreciate that. But the area outside your delivery door is a prime spot for abduction. And a student here, Daniel Rathborn told us he saw Michelle walk around the back of the school at recess. So, do you remember the exact time the milk delivery came and went?"
"It was about 10:20am," the gray-haired woman answered. "But I'm sure Brad had nothing to do with this."
"Does he drive the milk truck, or van?" Reid questioned. "Or is there a partner?"
The woman gulped. "I… actually don't know," she admitted.
Instead of asking for the dairy's information, Emily dialed Garcia. She was faster than anyone. "Penelope, I need you to look up Smyth Dairy, they deliver milk to the school. I want anything you can find me on a Brad Handler, and any other workers, possibly someone who works directly with Brad such as a delivery driver."
"Okay, I've got info. on Mr. Handler," Garcia didn't waste any time. "He's thirty-five, been with Smyth Dairy for two years, moved from Milwaukee with his wife and two sons three years ago. No record. Unfortunately the Dairy doesn't have a web site or any sort of electronic data, their pay records aren't even available. But I have a cell phone number for Brad Handler if you want."
"Send it to me," Emily demanded.
"You should already have it," Penelope replied. "Anything else?"
"Not right now, but be on alert."
"Always," the tech signed off.
Emily quickly dialed the new number and hit speaker, mostly for Reid's benefit. "Handler, here," a man's voice answered.
"Brad Handler, this is Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI," she identified herself.
"Okay," he replied.
"I need to ask you some questions about a delivery you made this morning to St. Ann's Academy."
"That's the only delivery I've been on today. Stupid driver stranded me there and I had to wait for my boss to come pick me up. Needless to say, he was not amused."
Her heart raced. "Sir, a nine-year-old girl was taken from this school about the time of your delivery. Who was driving that milk truck?"
"Crap," he said. "Um, it was that new woman. Meg something. She's older, doesn't talk much. The Dairy has a pretty liberal hiring policy; they don't discriminate for any reason. And I can usually get along with anyone; I've got no problem with women in authority roles either. But if you ask me, that Meg lady is a little off her rocker. Then she ditched me and…"
"Can you tell me what she looked like?" Emily cut him off. "I need to know details."
"She's late fifties, maybe. Dark hair, probably it was dyed. Average height, I guess. Not fat, but muscular for an older lady. Really green eyes."
His mention of her eyes pretty much confirmed it for Emily. "Brad, is your boss still nearby? Could I talk to him? I need to get an address for this Meg person,"
Within five minutes Emily had a last name and an address. "Meg Warner? This woman has got more aliases than I can keep track of," she looked to Reid. "I'm going to check out her address."
"I should go with you," Spencer offered.
"No, someone needs to stay here. I'll call Hotch on the way," she promised, dashing from the cafeteria before the genius could say anything else. Emily exited the school from the delivery door, not wanting to pass her parents at the main exit. The less she worried them the better, Emily thought as she got to the SUV that was parked out front. She stared at her cell phone as she buckled up and pulled away from the curb. She considered not contacting Hotch until she knew something more. It didn't seem necessary. But she knew that wouldn't fly, so she called.
"We'll meet you there," Hotch agreed, disconnecting.
xxx
The apartment building was six stories, concrete tilt-up construction. Fairly clean exterior, landscaped, underground parking lot. Alley to the east side, commercial office space to the left and retail to the right. The street was busy with wide sidewalks; tree-lined. Morgan, Hotch and Rossi pulled up behind Emily's vehicle. The four of them entered the building and headed straight to the mail boxes. The name Warner was labeled on box 2E. They raced up to the second floor. Hotch knocked on the door, once, twice. Rossi called out Margaret's name and identified them as FBI. No response. They pulled weapons. And Derek's leg rose, about to kick the door in.
"Hey, what the hell, dudes?" a man shouted out to them from down the hall. "You cops or something?"
"Who's asking?" Morgan responded, placing his foot back on the carpeted floor.
"I'm the super here, I own all this," the tall, bald man gestured around the hall. "Not much to brag about, but I'd like all the doors to stay on their hinges if possible," he eyed Derek in particular.
"The woman who lives here, Meg Warner, is a suspect," Derek relayed. "We think she may have kidnapped a young girl. You know her?"
The bald guy sneered. "Nope. My uncle died two months ago and I inherited the joint. Honestly, if she pays the rent on time I got no cause to know her."
"You have a key to this unit?" Hotch asked.
He held up a keychain. "Skeleton opens every unit." The man keyed the lock and stepped aside.
Morgan took the lead, followed by Rossi, Hotch and Emily in the rear. "Clear," Derek called out from a back room. Rossi cleared the bathroom. Hotch the kitchen. Emily glanced around the living room. It was completely empty. "Bedroom's empty, too," Morgan said as they all regrouped.
"Nothing in the bathroom," Dave reported.
"Why would someone pay for an empty place?" the apartment manager asked, poking his head inside.
Hotch pushed past the man. "It was just an address she used for the job," he said. "Dave, let's canvas the area." The team leader looked to Emily and Derek. "You two should get back to the school," he said before leaving.
Emily rubbed her eyes with one hand as Hotch and Rossi took off. She holstered her weapon and stared at the blank, gray walls. "When I dropped her off this morning I tried to tell her I loved her. But she was embarrassed someone might hear," Emily sighed.
Derek lowered his weapon and reached out to touch her cheek. "Kids are like that at her age."
"I know," Emily nodded. "It's just that I promised Anna I'd tell her every day and now…"
"Hey, do not go there," Morgan sheathed his gun. Both hands rested on her shoulders as he tried to ground her. "We're gonna find Michelle," he vowed. "But I think we need to start checking airports, bus stations, get some highway road blocks up. She's probably trying to get Michelle out of town as quick as she can," he tightened his jaw, resisting the urge to hit a wall.
"I don't think so," Emily breathed out, long and slow. She noticed the apartment manager still hanging by the open doorway and her mind started to spin again. "What has this all been about, Derek?"
"Getting her hands on Michelle," he answered. "She said so herself."
Emily gnawed on her lip. "No, I think you were right earlier when you said that homeless woman was too much of a coincidence. I think what she told me that day on the phone was a dodge, same as this apartment, same as the homeless woman. She's still close, Derek," Emily's confidence in that fact grew with each passing second.
"How do you figure?" Derek asked.
"She keeps mentioning righting the wrongs of the past and teaching Michelle the things she never got to teach me. But all those pictures she sent with the notes. That was never really about Michelle. She was sending me a message. She knew threatening my sister and niece would rile me. She's been pissed all these years that Richard took Anna instead of me. I think she's trying to lure me closer by using Michelle as bait, and I think she's still close," Emily crossed the room in a few short strides. "I need to see your tenant list," she told the bald man. "Now," she growled and watched him head off.
"What are you thinking, Em? She's here under another name?" Morgan was curious.
"Maybe," Emily wasn't sure, but she followed her instincts. The super returned and handed over a spiral bound book. She flipped through it, scanning names. Five pages in, she put her finger on a name and showed Morgan.
"Anna Ericson," he read. "Son of a bitch."
"3E," Emily said as she slapped the book against the super's chest.
She and Derek raced up the stairs to the third floor. Morgan kicked the door in without knocking, without verbal warning. It swung open from the force, banging against a wall. He and Emily rushed through the apartment, clearing all the rooms. Margaret wasn't there, neither was Michelle. But one bedroom had a full sized bed and dresser. The second room had a twin bed. There was minimal furniture in the living room, but it looked lived in.
Emily stood in the small kitchen. There was a coffee mug on the counter and another glass filled with milk. A plate of chocolate chip cookies sat between them. She put two fingers against the coffee mug. "Derek, this is still warm," she alerted him.
"She's still close," he looked to her for confirmation.
Her eyes went to the window and her legs followed. She pushed the curtains aside. "It's open," Emily told him. Morgan was by her side in a flash and they looked outside. "Fire escape," she went through the window and stepped onto the metal structure. Derek followed her out. "I'll go up, you go down," Emily suggested.
Morgan nodded and she watched him start down the metal rungs as she sheathed her weapon and began to climb. Emily peeked into any window she could, but most of them had blinds or curtains drawn tight. At the sixth floor landing there was a rickety ladder that went all the way to the roof. Emily didn't think twice as she traversed it and swung her legs over the parapet wall. She drew her gun and scanned the roof. Several HVAC units stood like Stonehenge, perfectly arrayed on the east side of the building. There was also an access door to the building's internal stairwell. And further back she could see some sort of three-sided covered patio.
She crept forward, slowly, aiming her gun around every piece of equipment. Everything was clear all the way to the door. Emily kept moving forward toward the outdoor living space. Inside she could see a barbeque, three picnic tables, and some cupboards. She rummaged through the space, but came up empty. Then she pressed her back against the west wall of the structure and slowly skirted along the narrow pathway toward the back. Between the parapet and the wall there was only about a foot of maneuverable space.
Gun leading the way, Emily took a deep breath before turning the corner to check the back of the building. The sight that greeted her brought her stomach up into her throat. Yet she'd been expecting it the whole time. Michelle was seated on the three foot high parapet wall, legs dangling over the sidewalk below. Margaret turned the girl sideways a little and wore her like a shield, left arm squeezed around Michelle's mid-section. The woman's right hand held a kitchen knife against Michelle's neck. It was a small knife, but Emily could tell it was plenty sharp enough to cut her niece's throat.
Margaret smiled. "Hello, Emily," she greeted. "It's so nice to finally meet you."
To Be Continued…