CHAPTER 39 ━━━

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# ! | CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- they dive in to the past

━━━ "FEBRUARY FOURTEENTH,
nineteen ninety. Write that down." A slender woman, imposing both in height and stature sits on the cobblestone of a bridge just south of the family farm. Her accent is thick, heavy in it's eastern sound. They were a long way from Italy, a long way from the home her daughter knew, but Margaret Murphy had always said that for some things, you just needed to be close to family.

A girl just shy of five years old writes the date down. Her short, jet black hair sticks up in every direction and her green eyes are wide, curious, and at this moment, terrified. Her glasses only magnify the fear. A young Meryl sits adjacent of her mother, the old rock biting into the soft skin of her knees. "Now, listen carefully, topolina, and write as I tell you."

February 14th, 1990

Know that in the actions that I am about to take, there is not a single grain of choice. There is nothing left for me here. No hope, no purpose, I have been casted down from the ranks of favor and all I will leave behind is what you will consider my legacy, but when I have always and will always consider my primary reason for leaving.

I was a star, dang you. Built to burn bright and burn long but then the first child came and went with their father and I thought myself to be free. But then she came and she grew and she was oh so special. But when she began to glow, I was not Mara Murphy, champion rider. I was Margaret, the mother of a prodigy.

I refuse to be an accessory to anyone, the only story I want written in to is my own.

So, when she grows up and realizes who I'm talking about, know this:

It was you. It was all you. This is your fault. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Goodbye.

Spencer stares down at the note, reading it over and over and over again. "Meryl told me her mother made her write this."

Emily nods. "It checks out. Saying dang instead of damn points to the scribe being juvenile or not wanting to offend the adult."

They knew what happened next. When the note was complete, Margaret Murphy had thrown herself off the bridge and was dead before she'd even hit the water.

Spencer turns to the other piece of paper and wipes angrily at the tears that fall down his cheeks, puffy from crying.

February 14, 2012

This is the date in which you will make things right, Meryl. You can fix this. You will draft your will, leave everything to a one Claudia Ferrara, and you will find yourself at that same bridge just before ten p.m.

Repent, Meryl. Repent and be forgiven. Do not forget that I have the means to wipe out everything you love over the course of a night. Your blood family and your new one, all gone at the expense of your selfishness.

It was you. It was all you. This is your fault. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Goodbye.

Rage washes over the young genius like gasoline, igniting a deep seated hatred for both Claudia and Margaret. They had one of the brightest burning stars of this time right in the palm of their hand and just tossed it, just like his father had done.

Spencer didn't know what he might do if Claudia Ferrara is the reason his star burns herself out. Garcia's face pops up on their screen and Spencer unclenches his jaw to ask, "What do we know about Claudia?"

"I can tell you one thing, this miserable, icky, ugly b-"

"Garcia," Hotch warns.

"-itch has never worked a day in her life. I'm sorry, sir, but I'm past the point of being my bubbly self. Daddy's money fueled her forty three years of life. Looks like her and Margaret were pretty close- oh, very close. Margaret got a restraining order against her on the basis of sexual misconduct. Ugh, gross. Anyway, when Meryl got the heaping inheritance, looks like Claudia got involved in some drug scandals because apparently she used to have some questionable ties to the mafia and works as an informant for the NYPD. I'd send you her address but I doubt you're gonna find her there."

"So," JJ snarls, "in Claudia's eyes, Meryl took away her love, her life, and her legacy."

Hotch looks to the window, unable to stop the two or three tears that slip out. "Our primary focus should be finding Meryl alive. We can then worry about Claudia."

ೃ⁀➷

As it turns out, Meryl is not the only one they have to worry about finding alive. Upon arrival at the lodge, seeing all the dead animals, and trying to contact Ren, Leona, and Joey, they come up empty.

It's nine thirty when the team heads down a path that leads south. The air is sharp, fresh, coppery like leaves but they can all think it only smells like blood.

"Chances are," Morgan pipes up, out of breath from scanning the entire property, returning to the test of the team as they continue down the trail, "she has them too, ready to carry out her plan if Meryl doesn't comply."

"Son of a bitch!" Spencer slams his fist against a tree. "She's gonna comply, you all know she will. We're going to get to this goddamn bridge and she's going to be dead and Claudia will be long gone."

Rossi shushes him aggressively and points a bit down the road. There lies the bridge, and on the ledge stands Meryl, blood streaming steadily from a cut in her forehead. Derek and Spencer look at each other, making a plan just with their eyes.

"You don't have to do this, Mer." Morgan's voice is low, calm. In truth, he is petrified. Afraid of losing Meryl and afraid of what will happen to Spencer if they do. Sweat makes his tight grey shirt stick to his chest but he isn't worried about that now, only reading the body language of the woman a few yards in front of him. Spencer approaches her almost silently from behind, her attention too directly split between Morgan and the rushing water to notice his advances.

"You need to go, Derek. She'll kill you, she'll kill all of you. Please," Meryl's green eyes look more grey as they stare at him. He'd seen that look in her eye before when they had found her in the motel with James. It was the look of someone who had come to peace with the end of their life, unintentionally suicidal.

She breaks the eye contact and makes the move to step off the ledge but Spencer lunges for her, snagging her petite waist and holding on for dear life as she struggles.

"Spencer, please. Please leave! Goddamnit, I can't let this world lose you, I can't lose you-" From the trees, a shot rings out and Meryl freezes in place, left hand flying to her chest before blood seeps through her fingers. Spencer's mind grinds to a stop then. Logic tells him she'll be dead in a few minutes, but he is far too blinded by anger to listen to that.

There's rustling and then a flash of black hair as Claudia makes a dash for it. Spencer looks down in horror as Meryl shakes, chest caving and then arching. "We've got her," Emily says as she slides to a stop next to the wounded woman, JJ following quickly behind. "Go get that bitch."

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