Peppermaid Suites

Chillicothe, Texas

There were already squad cars filling the parking lot of the motel.

LEO's were swarming the small complex weaving in and out of a room that faced the main road. An ambulance had been parked near the main office.

"We're too late." Emily muttered swinging her door open before the SUV came to a complete stop. She ignored the shout from Hotch and darted across the pavement and searching for an officer who didn't look like they were fresh out of the womb.

For some reason, the smaller towns tended to have the youngest law enforcement. Normally that didn't really bother her. But she needed to get answers that a rookie would be too hesitant to answer.

Hotch and JJ were just catching up to her when she zoned in on a tall man with salt and pepper hair and a look of authority. A few stars lined the collar of his navy jacket, plus he seemed to be the only one who didn't look like he was wearing his father's clothes.

"What happened here?" Prentiss tried to catch her breath as she flashed her badge at him. She held up her hand when the chief furrowed his brows and opened his mouth. "We have a lead that led us to this location! What happened?"

Hearing her voice beginning to rise, Hotch placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back so that she wasn't shouting directly into the stunned man's face. "Prentiss." He warned quietly. When he was sure that she wasn't about reel around and slug him, he looked to the chief. He read the golden stitching on his right breast pocket. "Officer...Silva, I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, these are agents Prentiss and Jareau, we're with the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Behavioral Analysis..." Silva sputtered looking between the three. "How...what...this is just a cut and dry robbery and assault. Nothing really needs to be analyzed."

"Did you catch the perpetrator?" Emily moved her wide eyes to scan the squad cars surrounding them. She didn't see anyone sitting in the back of them. Immediately, she felt guilty for the relief that flooded her system. But the idea of Molly being cornered by cops she didn't know had her on edge.

The chief shook his head. "No, they fled the scene."

"Then we'll decide whether or not it needs to be analyzed." Hotchner kept his voice firm but polite. He didn't want to step on any toes, but they didn't have time to argue about jurisdiction. "This is possibly related to some Interstate incidents, so we'll need access to the crime scene to confirm whether or not that's the case."

Seemingly at a loss, Silva lifted his hands and shook his head. "Right this way then." He huffed, leading them pass the yellow tape and into the motel room. He gestured to the men taking pictures of the scene, "Guys, clear out for a few."

The young men paused, appraising the group warily, before stepping around them out the door.

"We're not sure of a timeline yet, but it couldn't have been more than an hour ago," Silva started with his explanation. "Our officers arrived at the scene to see mother and son tied up on the bed, gagged but unharmed. They said a woman was in the room when they got back from the park. She was dressed in all black, had red hair, and either green or blue eyes."

Definitely Molly.

A small part of Emily had hoped that they would find out that someone else entirely was behind all of this. Maybe someone else had a personal vendetta against Red Card. That was still probably the case, but she highly doubted that anyone else had the skillsets that Molly did.

"Who called it in?" JJ asked, keeping one eye on Emily as she wandered around the room.

"We don't know that either." Silva said, "Someone called the station, complaining about a noise she heard coming from Room 104, but the front desk clerk said he hadn't heard anything. The Bowles' were the only ones staying here, and nobody else really comes around these parts. At least not close enough to be bothered by the noise."

"Was it a female who called?" Hotchner was already getting his phone out to dial Penelope. Silva's not and look of realization were all of the confirmation he needed. He held the cell to his ear and spoke before the tech analyst could finish her elaborate greeting, "Garcia, I need you to track any calls made to the Chillicothe Police Department within the last two hours."

"It was the only call we got to day." Silva told him quietly.

"Then she'll find it in no time." JJ gave him a tight smile.

"Whose blood is this?"

They all turned quickly at Emily's urgent demand. She was leaning in close to the small space of wall between the front door jamb and the window. There was crimson splattered on the chipped ecru paint. At first it didn't seem so bad, but as her eyes ran down the wall and across the floor, she could see dark patches trailing along green carpet.

"Mr. Bowles was found in the bathroom." Silva led them over to the mentioned room and pushed the door so that it was opened all the way. "He was standing on the edge of the tub with a rope tied around his neck. The other end of it was tied to the shower rod so tight that he had to stand on his tip-toes to keep from choking."

"What were his injuries?" Hotch moved to look at the frayed rope still hanging from the metal bar that was drilled into the wall on both sides.

"Some minor knife wounds." The chief shrugged. "Broken nose and busted lip, but he'll live."

"No amputations?" JJ arched her eyebrows, surprised.

Silva's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "No...What?" He squinted and shook his head. "No. No amputations. What the hell is going on?"

"He wasn't shot?" Emily responded to his question with one of her own.

He checked his notepad to confirm before responding, "No GSW's."

"Stab wounds wouldn't have caused this blood splatter." Prentiss charged back to the other side of the room, pointing at the stains. "This is from a gunshot. It's not a lot and there's no bullet hole so it wasn't a through and through. But the amount of blood on the floor indicates that it was a pretty serious wound."

Hotchner could see the panic building up inside of her, so he quickly jumped into the role of crime scene investigator to help her collect facts. He gestured to the smear of red on the edge of the inner door, "It looks like this was probably smashed into his face, which would explain the facial injuries." He observed. "So, she came at him with a blitz attack, attempting to inflict injury immediately in order to gain an advantage."

"If it was a female, that would more than likely be the case." Silva agreed. "The wife's description puts her at around 5'6 and Bowles is just over 6'8."

The three agents knew that size wasn't an issue. Molly was capable of attacking any human of any stature with or without the element of surprise. But they chose to keep that information to themselves. They couldn't risk making her identity public information.

"He was ready for her." JJ pointed out. "He shot her as soon as she was in the door."

Emily winced and nodded. She silently prayed that it wasn't a lethal wound. "Then she apprehended Bowles, but before she could get him out, the wife and son got back?"

Silva nodded at her. "Mrs. Bowles said that she looked almost...scared of them." He said. "She wouldn't even look at the boy. She had the mother tie him up but was adamant about her not making the ropes too tight on his wrists. Apparently, she was apologizing throughout most of it."

"Empathy." JJ stated the obvious. "She felt for the woman. She was in her place once."

"Yes, but she knew when to get out." Hotchner muttered before addressing Silva, "Are the Bowles still here?"

"Mr. Bowles was taken to the hospital already." The chief told him, "But mother and son are still here."

He led them back outside and gestured towards the ambulance. Prentiss had deliberately avoided looking that way before, terrified of seeing Molly being zipped into a body bag. If she had to place a bet on her sister-in-law's future C.O.D it would either be resisting arrest or suicide bomb. She was just that committed.

As they drew closer, all three of them immediately saw what made Molly so skittish. The child, wrapped in a blanket and sitting in his mother's lap. His face was different-more freckles and a pointier nose-and his eyes were brown, but the hair was nearly the same. The red curls made their own hearts clench at the memory of the boy who had been murdered on that mountain top.

They couldn't imagine what went through Molly's head.

"Um..." Prentiss' steps faltered as she reached up to touch Hotch's arm. "I think I'll-"

She pointed over her shoulder, at nothing in particular, and Aaron immediately understood. "We got this." He gestured Silva who had hung back by the motel room. "Why don't you fill him in on who William Bowles is? They'll want to slap some handcuffs on his hospital bed."

Emily nodded and in that moment, she wanted to plant a sloppy wet kiss right on his mouth. Later. She told herself, settling for simply squeezing his hand instead. Better not scare the locals.

She watched her handsome Unit Chief head towards the ambulance with JJ-who couldn't resist throwing a cheeky smirk over her shoulder.

Yes, Molly was injured, but she wasn't anywhere as lost as they thought she was. She was shot. She was injured by a nasty man and she didn't kill him. Sure, her actions were still questionable and would have been more than illegal if done by anyone else. But she showed restraint. She didn't lay a hand on the mother and son. Innocent bystanders.

Not that she had ever resorted to that, even though her bosses had given her permission to kill any and all witnesses. Actually, they insisted upon it. But even when her heart was at its coldest, Molly refused to shed the blood of the innocent.

Clearing her throat, Prentiss turned and nodded at Silva, indicating that they had more to talk about.

She's still Molly. She gave herself a little pep talk, walking up the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets. She hasn't crossed the line.

/

"Drulludeli." She grunted, tweezing shard number nine from her shoulder. At this point, she was still able to drive while treating her wound. In about an hour-when she had to get to work on the shrapnel embedded in her bones-she would need to find a rest stop. "Sonur tík!"

She found that it was easier if she uttered all of her favorite vulgarities while operation on herself. She breezed through the English ones twice over by now, so she had moved onto the Icelandic ones.

The hand connected to her injured arm held the wheel steady. Luckily the highway was relatively empty, so that when she occasionally jerked into the other lane there was no one to crash into.

Also, she really wasn't in the mood to be slapped with an indecent exposure citation. She had removed her shirt-heavy with blood-and tossed it into the backseat so that she could have easier access. Her sports bra covered enough. She had seen far less worn by the teens wandering the streets of the Southwestern states she drove through.

"Fjandinn heimskulegt feitur andlit hans!" She shouted that one. That had been the largest piece yet. After making sure that she was still the only one on the road, she held the tweezers up and examined the metal scrap. It was only about one or two centimeters long, and inch at the most, but it was jagged and spurred on the sides. It tore her flesh from the inside when it was yanked out.

She didn't know what kind of bullets Bowles had in his gun, but whoever manufactured them just made it on her list.

/

Little Rock Police Department

Arkansas

They were bored.

It took Garcia all of five minutes to trace the 911 call back to a payphone across the street from the motel. Of course this was of no help to her lovely agents, but she did her part.

Now all she had to do was wait for her next assignment.

Reid, who had pretty much memorized Molly's file in its entirety, was simply staring at the whiteboard now. Hoping that something would jump out at him-even though he had been the only person to write on the damn thing.

"Did you know the Arctic Fox is the only mammal native to Iceland?" He said suddenly, startling Penelope from her mindless scan of Red Card files. "Other animals were imported there over the years and bred in farms across the nation, but none of them actually originated there. Marine mammals eventually migrated there from other regions as well."

"Super cool." Garcia rubbed her temple with the pointer finger of her left hand while scrolled her mouse with the right. "But as much as I'd love to hear about foxes and polar bears and every other cute creature living in that Nordic wasteland-"

"Interestingly enough," Spencer held up his finger, cutting her off mid-rant. "Polar bears don't reside in Iceland. They can be found in almost every other part of the arctic circle, but it's almost as though they skipped over that region entirely."

"Reid!" Penelope chucked her pen at him.

The fuzzy end hit him right between the eyes, startling him. But only for a moment.

"And Iceland isn't necessarily a wasteland." He continued, keeping his voice somewhat subdued at this point. As though he were speaking against his will. "A wasteland is defined as being baron and unused, whereas Iceland has a thriving population of nearly 330,000."

"Stop. Stop..." She drew it out the second time, warning him. "I know your super brain is running a mile a minute right now. But you need to give it a rest. The team will be calling any minute and we need to give them all we've got."

He seemed to accept this. Nodding and sucking his lips between his teeth, he went back to studying his notes.

Just when the silence settled, he mumbled, "They don't have a McDonald's in Iceland either."

Garcia growled and threw her head back.

/

Interstate 20

Texas

The consensus was that she'd be heading to Bronte next. It was a small town nearing central Texas. The drive time would be pretty much equal for both parties, so they expected to be able to meet up this time.

Morgan had just pulled into the Van Horn police station when JJ called to tell them that Molly had gone to Skellytown instead-well not Skellytown, but a path leading from Skellytown.

Last they'd heard-as they were getting back onto the interstate-William Bowles was hospitalized and currently being processed. He would be the first Red Card Detainee not to be deported. He had been the only legalized citizen thus far, so he would be transferred to the maximum security prison in Abilene.

"So she didn't remove anything from Bowles?" Dave asked in disbelief. He was antsy. They had spent nearly twenty-four hours straight travelling and they'd yet to see any action. Well, there car hadn't. Hotch's at least got a little bit of a crime scene to entertain them. "Why would she change her M.O?"

Derek shrugged, keeping an eye on his rearview mirror as he switched lanes. "Maybe the kid threw her off her game." He suggested. "Or it could be that her injury hindered her. From the looks of the blood splatter, Hotch thinks that she was hit with a fragmenting bullet. Those can do some serious harm."

Rossi shook his head. "Yeah, but this is a very determined woman." 'Determined' was an understatement. Reading her file had been one of the more surreal moments of his life. "She was still able to haul him into the bathroom and rig him up on the shower rod. She could have easily dumped him in the tub and sawed off his arm or something."

When Morgan didn't offer a reply, he went on.

"Time was on her side. She could have moved the mother and son somewhere else, gone back, and mutilated him once she regained her strength. But instead, she left him mostly unscathed and called it in herself. Why?"

There were a lot of plausible explanations Derek could have thrown his way. The more obvious being, she wanted to get out of there before she bled out. But he was tired. And he was frustrated.

Molly was doing them a favor. He didn't necessarily like her methods, but she was doing a pretty damn good job. In less than a month, she had apprehended eight criminals. All of whom were flying under the radar, with some pretty heinous acts under their belts. She was doing what their team wasn't allowed to do. She was doing what the government was too lazy, and/or cheap, to do.

Why were they trying to stop her?

/

Bronte, Texas

The gas station was empty. In small towns, they didn't remain open all night.

Fortunately, the payphone was outside.

She had been staring at the device for going on twenty minutes, contemplating her next move. It could be too risky. It could be dangerous. It could help.

Two steps back, one step forward. The perfect metaphor for her life.

"Screw it." She muttered, unbuckling her seatbelt and shoving her door open. Her arm had blessedly gone numb from the elbow up after she had removed the last of the shrapnel. There was probably a bit of nerve damage. Hopefully time would take care of that healing process.

Fishing out her gallon-sized zip lock bag of change, Molly scooped out a handful as she approached the phone. The yellow sheet of paper, torn from a legal pad at BAU headquarters, was still folded up in the front pocket of her backpack. Emily had given it to her before they left to find Flynn.

"Try to stay with us at all times." She had said as she slid it across her desk. "But if you do, this is all of our numbers. I even put Garcia's on there. She can track you down if you were lost in the Center of the Earth."

Molly grinned at the memory of her laughing at her own joke. If nothing else, Emily could always entertain herself.

She picked up the receiver and balanced it between her shoulder and ear before shoving silver coins into the slot until the dial tone was interrupted with two sharp beeps. She ran the tip of her index finger along the curved blue writing on the first line of the wrinkled sheet. For a moment she alternated between curving the digit and straightening it out.

Finally, she let out a breath and quickly dialed the nine numbers before she changed her mind.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

And just when she thought that it might go to voicemail, she heard a click and a slight shuffle before. "H-Hello?"

"Emily?" Molly kept one eye on the dark empty road on the other side of the parking lot. "I need to tell you something."