Chapter 2
The SUV sped through the city streets on the tail of the parade of cop cars.
They finally had the lead they spent weeks trying to find. The profile had been correct; the Corval County serial killer was Mason Thomas Ezral and they were racing to his home on the outskirts of the County.
Morgan glanced over from the passenger seat to Hotch whose fists were clutched tightly around the steering wheel as he drove like a bull, almost barreling through the cop cars up ahead.
"Hotch?" frowned Morgan.
Hotch seemed to be taking this case personally; Ezral who had worked as a freelance plumber had brutally murdered six women all within the past three months. All the women were blonde and looked somewhat like Haley, Hotch's murdered ex-wife. Hotch had taken it upon himself to personally speak to the families of the dead women promising them his team would not stop until the Unsub was found.
Well it happened; there was a witness and they finally got the break they needed.
The moon was hidden behind the clouds, the air crisp as the cars flew down the darkened road.
"Hotch?" repeated Morgan.
"I'm fine." Hotch huffed, still staring at the road; his hands tightening a little more on the steering wheel.
"We're going to get him, you know that, right?" pressed Morgan.
"I know Morgan...I know."
Morgan glanced back at the SUV behind them, the rest of the team keeping close.
Ten minutes later the cars pulled off onto a dirt road, they had cut their sirens earlier on Hotch's order.
We don't want to give him any warning…
Not long after, the house came into view; a small ramshackle excuse for a home sitting in a small clearing by the edge of the woods. The cars pulled to a stop and officers poured from their vehicles.
Hotch ran towards the front door gun drawn, Morgan right by his side; he quietly motioned the rest of his team around back.
"Ezral!" Hotch shouted, standing by the side of the door.
"FBI!" Not waiting even a second more, he motioned to the officer with the battering ram who broke down the door; Hotch, Morgan and the rest of the officers rushing in.
Soon the echoes of "Clear…Clear" resounded throughout the house.
Ezral wasn't there.
"Damn it!" Hotch slammed his fist against a wall.
"No movement out back." said Rossi, as he Reid and Prentiss stepped into the room.
Prentiss holstered her gun. "He must have known we were coming."
Reid pulled out his phone and dialed Garcia.
"Garcia, Ezral's not here, he…what? Hold on!"
Reid turned to Hotch. "There was a leak, news footage a few minutes ago. They gave out his name."
No!" shouted Hotch. The normally collected man kicked over a side table next to him, startling the team members. "Where was JJ?!"
Rossi stepped closer to Hotch, worried about his uncharacteristic outburst.
"Hotch, let's get some air."
He stood facing Hotch, eyes calm but persistent. The taller agent stared at him, jaws clenched, his body shaking; after a moment, his shoulders slumped slightly and he took a deep breath and nodded walking past the others and heading out the back door.
Rossi looked at the others. "Don't worry about him; we need to find some evidence where Ezral might have gone."
The others nodded as the two older agents left the room.
Standing on the small back deck, Rossi sighed softly as he stared in worry at his friend.
"Aaron, we'll get him. We'll find a clue here...I'm sure of it."
"It's June, Dave. He's been killing since April. What if it takes another three months before we find him? How many more women will he kill between now and then?"
Rossi was concerned over how tired his friend sounded. "When was the last time you slept?"
Hotch leaned against the deck railing looking out into the woods as the moon eased its way from behind the clouds.
"I'll sleep when Ezral's behind bars." he replied.
It had been a little less than a year since Haley's death and with the victims looking similar to her…Rossi shook his head slowly, thinking of what he could say to make Hotch back down from this.
Nothing...there was nothing he could say.
Hotch squeezed his eyes shut, he was so tired; this case had kept him thinking about Haley which meant no sleep. The nightmares of that day still plagued him, though he kept that fact away from his team. Rubbing the side of his head, Hotch opened his eyes and froze; his heart slamming to a stop in his chest.
Several yards away, a figure stood at the edge of the woods.
"Dave, are there any officers out there?" whispered Hotch, his eyes glued to the shadowy figure.
"No, it's too dark to see much of anything; they're waiting until daybreak. Why?"
Hotch hurdled the railing, his hand yanking at his gun.
"He's still here!"
"Hotch, wait!" started Rossi, but his friend was already running full speed towards the darkness of the trees. Rossi turned back to the house.
"Morgan!" he yelled and then ran from the deck to back up Hotch who by then had already disappeared into the woods, notching up Rossi's worry scale to a million.
Damn it, Aaron!
Mason Ezral had stood by the woods' edge watching the men standing on his deck. He could have been long gone by now, the news footage giving him ample time to be far enough away, but he had decided to stay close by – hiding – waiting. He knew he was chancing heavily on getting caught, but he wanted to see if The Agent would come.
Hotchner.
The man was a bane to his existence; his face appearing at press conferences. Mr. Serious Agent, his eyes like lasers, no doubt in his voice, stating that they would catch him, staring straight into the camera almost like he was looking directly at Mason himself.
We will catch him…
I will catch you…
Ezral's new path in life started months before after his wife and young son had died in a car crash; she had been planning on leaving him and taking their son with her.
You're so angry all the time, Mason, I can't take it! What's wrong with you?
Do you want our son to grow up like his daddy?
He had hit her hard across the face for that; they had been arguing for months, his hatred for her seeping and hardening into stone as the days and weeks slipped by. She had reminded him of his mother, a bottle-blonde chain smoking vindictive woman who thought that shame, degradation and abuse were the hallmark's in raising a child.
When he got the call a few months before from a relative that she had up and died of lung cancer, Mason had drunk himself into a blackout, not out of sorrow, but rage that he didn't get to kill her himself. He awoke to find himself face down on his living room floor, the room swinging enough into focus for him to see his wife carrying his son as she hesitantly walked by with a suitcase in hand. Mason's eyes had narrowed as he took in her black eye and the bruise on her cheek and neck; then had looked down at the swollen knuckles on his hand.
Oh.
Before he could say anything, she saw that he had awoken and had startled, then yelled that he would never see his son again and ran for the door. By the time he found his footing, by the time his rage tightened its hold on him once again, they were gone; the screech of tires echoing down the street.
Plans to find her and kill her to get his son back were yanked from him when the next morning, some deputies were at his door with condolences and news that his wife and son were dead. She had been driving too fast and had lost control, the car had wrapped itself around a tree.
Most likely dead on impact, they didn't suffer.
She had done it, taking his son from him for good. She didn't get to pay for what she did. He had wanted her to suffer, he needed someone to suffer.
His rage grew, festered. Then one day at a bar a small blonde smiled at him and his course was set.
It bothered Mason that they had gotten so close, that he had almost gotten caught; he was better than that! So when he moved slowly to the edge of the woods and saw Mr. Serious Agent standing there, he couldn't help but step out into the clearing. He stood there for a few minutes waiting and then it happened, he was seen and Hotchner was suddenly vaulting the railing and racing after him.
Mason smiled and turned back to the woods, as this was exactly what he had wanted; he gripped the hunting knife he was holding and ran into the darkness.
-TBC-