For five years, Spencer Reid has mourned the loss of the love of his life. Mourned Eliza, morned the future, morned himself. Morned a time when he felt something other than deep sorrow and loneliness.
For five years, Elizabeth Doyle has survived...
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May 27th, 2016
The room was cold around her, rats squeaking and scurrying on the ground. Glass shattered from across the building, but it was drowned out by whispering.
"Help me..." her voice was rough, tired.
"Lousie, okay, it's okay! Help is on the way!" she promised, kneeling beside the woman laying on the stray mattress. Louise groaned before clanging drew the attention off of Louise. A man began laughing before a scream erupted from her throat.
"No!" Emily sat up straight, panting as she did. She looked to her nightside table where her cell phone was ringing. The alarm clock read 2:07 am. Emily groaned, grabbing her phone and answering it. "Hello?"
"Hey!" Eliza's voice rang through the phone and Emily felt a slight wave of relief. "I was uh...planning on leaving a message."
"Well now you can tell me in person," Emily said nonchalantly, not wanting Eliza to hang up.
"Why are you up at..." there was a pause and Emily assumed Eliza was checking a clock. "At two in the morning?"
"No particular reason."
"Dreaming again?" Eliza asked softly. Emily didn't respond, and Eliza took it as her answer. "Same one?" Silence again. "Maybe you should see a counselor. It might help them to stop."
"Only one thing is going to help them stop," Emily replied, rubbing her forehead.
"None of it was your fault," Eliza said reassuringly. "You know that. Mum, you can't go on like this. You need your sleep."
"I'll be fine."
"Yeah, I know," Eliza replied. "Just...let me know if you aren't."
"Right," Emily took a breath. "I'm going back to sleep. Bye Eliza."
May 30th, 2016 8:42 am EST Quantico, Virginia
Hotch took a breath as he analyzed the words of the two women video chatting with him. "That's not a lot to go on, guys," he said finally.
"I know, but it's him. I know it is. And now he's stateside," Emily said seriously.
"People get shot in New York every day," Hotch said, "what makes you so sure?"
"Geography, M.O., victimology, he copycats the classics - Chikatilo in Russia, Jack the Ripper in London, last month it was the Boston Strangler. Now, it was a single homicide, so I thought maybe that was just me trying to see something that wasn't there. But now he's in New York copying the Son of Sam," Emily stated matter of factly. "It's him. I know it's him."
"Berkowitz shot two people in the first Son of Sam murder," Hotch argued, "you've only got one victim here."
"Yes, but it happened in the same neighborhood in the Bronx, and ballistics confirmed it was a.44 caliber Bulldog exactly like Berkowitz used," Emily said, "in Boston, he used nylon stockings to strangle an elderly woman one block from where DeSalvo's first murder took place back in 1962."
