She's Yours

Chap 19 "Deja Vu"

Alee's POV
Another three months passed and Natalya didn't have school for the week of Thanksgiving. Ever since the situation with NCIS, I haven't talked to any Marine or Sailor, other than my brother. It was Monday night and Morgan was putting Natalya to bed early since her Uncle Jack took her to the arcade and tired her out. I went to the kitchen be cleaned up a little bit. I felt Morgan's arms slip around my waist from behind and I smiled. "Is she finally asleep this time?" I asked.
"And I didn't have to use the teddy bear with a music box," Morgan sighed. "I actually sang this time. We are going to have to get her a new music box. I think the one she has now is broken."
"It's not broken," I nodded. "I just loosened the screw on the handle. I've never used that music box unless I had to."
"So you sing to her every night?"
"Yeah, and it's any song she wants to here."
"Well, tonight she didn't really have a choice because the only song I knew by heart was our wedding song that we danced to here at home."
"This I Swear by Nick Lachey," I smiled, remembering the night we danced in our living room. "Definitely a story to tell our kids."
"Do you really not regret having a reception?"
"I don't regret it at all," I nodded. "Morgan, we can get married in a court house for all I care and I'll still be happy." I looked at him. "And do you want to know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm marrying the guy I love who'll be with me for the rest of my life."
"So you don't dream of your dream wedding?"
"Of course I do. What girl doesn't? Morgan, what I'm trying to say is that I don't care if I'm poor, rich, fat, skinny, ugly, or pretty. I'm only getting married once to someone I really love. I'll rather have my true love with me than anything. And my daughter, of course. I do pray that you and I never split because Natalya really loves you."
"I'm not here for your money and you are perfectly imperfect to be," Morgan looked at me. "You're beautiful every single day. Now, when you're tackling bad guys and showing off those skills in combat, you're just down right sexy."
"Morgan," I giggled as he started kissing my neck. "Stop." He pulled back and looked at me. "No baby making tonight. We have eleven months till you leave." I looked at him. "We count down the months and soon those months will turn into days and when that happens, October will be here and you're gone."
"I won't be going anywhere for awhile," Morgan smiled. He hugged me. "And I'm pretty sure eleven months is a long while for now." The doorbell rang as he gave me a kiss. He looked at his watch. "Who rings the doorbell at ten pm?"
"An unsub looking for victims," I shrugged. Morgan looked at me. "I'm kidding." I walked to the living room with Morgan following me. I opened the door. "Hey Dad. What brings you over at this time of hour?"
"Remember Detective Tom Shaunessy?" Dad asked.
"How can I forget?" I asked. "You worked a case with him a long time ago."
"He's kinda on his death bed and he's been asking to see us," Dad sighed. "His wife's been calling the house and asking if we can. She hasn't realized it's been so long because you're all grown up now."
"Dad, we all have to grow up sometimes," I nodded. "All I gotta say is that growing up is a trap."
"I wish you were still little," Dad smiled. "But that's why I'm here. Do you wanna go with me?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Of course. Just let me grab a coat and get you out of the cold weather. Come inside." Dad did and I closed the door. "I'll be right back." I went up to my room and grabbed my fleece coat. I put it on. Morgan was in the doorway. "Can you watch Natalya while I go visit Detective Tom Shaunessy?"
"We'll be fine," Morgan smiled. He gave me a hug. "Just be careful, okay?"
"You got an FBI agent and a former agent, who are and were the BAU's unit chief, going to visit a detective," I looked at Morgan. "If anything happens, we'll be fine and I'll come home unharmed. Now, I gotta go before it gets too late." I gave Morgan and kiss and went downstairs. "I'm ready."
"Let's go," Dad nodded. We got into his car and he drove us to Detective Tom Shaunessy's house. "I'm not sure how bad his condition is so just be careful."
"Yeah, Dad," I sighed. "I didn't think this day will ever come." We got out of the car and walked to the front door. I knocked. A lady opened the door. "Dad?"
"Mr. Hotchner?" the lady asked.
"Yes," Dad nodded. "This is my daughter Alee Hotchner."
"Please, he's been waiting," the lady let us in.
"Thank you," Dad sighed. "Alee, this is Mrs. Shaunessy."
"It's good to see that you've grown up well," Mrs. Shaunessy nodded. "Uhm, you two are the only people he's asked for. You must be good friends."
"Actually, we worked together once, about ten years ago," Dad responded.
"Uh...he'll be lucky if he makes it through the night," Mrs. Shaunessy sighed. "Anything  you do to ease his pain will be a blessing."
"Of course," I nodded. She pointed us toward his room and we walked inside. "Wow."
"Hi, Tom," Dad sighed as they shook hands.
"You came," Tom responded. "Thank you."
"Of course, Tom," Dad slightly smiled. "But I don't know why you asked for us."
"The reaper," Tom stated. "I shut down the investigation without an arrest. The killings stopped and I sent you away." I sat down, remembering the case file I read to keep up with my dad's knowledge span of the cases. "You deserve to know why."
"Okay, tell me," Dad nodded.
"A deal with the devil," Tom responded as he handed Dad a letter.
We looked at it. "If you stop hunting me, I'll stop hunting them," Dad read. "For as long as we both shall live, 'til death do us part." I nodded. "If you agree to my terms, take out a personal ad in the Michigan Post." Dad looked at Tom. "This is a contract."
"Which we both honored," Tom nodded. "You know we weren't close to catching him. If it didn't work, I could have restarted the investigation, but it did." I looked at Tom, knowing he was desperate. "The killing stopped. I waited six weeks --- six weeks before I sent you away."
"But, Tom, how do you know he stopped?" I asked. "He could have just gone someplace else."
"No, I kept watch," Tom looked at me. "I know he stopped."
"Sooner or later we would have caught a break," Dad responded.
"How many people would he have killed before we caught that break, huh?" Tom asked. "Would all those lives be worth it?"
"We don't get to make those decisions," Dad stated.
"We don't let them get away with it," I sighed.
"Then you'll have to pay for my sin," Tom looked at Dad dead in the eye.
"What do you mean?" Dad asked.
"The contract's about to expire," Tom gestured. "I've felt him watching me. He knows. He's been waiting for this."
"You think he's gonna start killing again," Dad stated.
"I did it to save lives," Tom responded. "Please tell the victims' families that I'm sorry. Please. Tell them --- tell them I had no choice."
"She'll tell them you're sorry," Dad nodded.
"What?" Tom asked.
"I resigned, Tom," Dad replied. "My daughter here has taken over the team."
"You know the case?" Tom asked.
"Like the back of my hand," I nodded. "There are a couple of hazy events in the timeline but my team can cover me."
"You're married?" Tom asked. I smiled and nodded. "Don't make the same deal I did. I lost my daughter." I nodded. "Your mind works just like your dad, you know that?"
"Well, I am his daughter and he did work for the FBI so I have an upper hand growing up in it," I nodded. "And my husband, he happens to be a profiler too so I learn a couple things from him over the years."
"Who's your husband?" Tom asked.
"Remember Agent Derek Morgan?" Dad asked. Tom nodded. "Yeah, that's him."
"Look, I am going to go and take care of this case," I sighed. "Dad, if you don't mind driving me to the office and then going to pick up Natalya and let Morgan know what happened."
"Yeah," Dad sighed as we stood up. "Thank you for this, Tom." Dad drove me to the office is complete silence. "Make sure you make those calls."
"Always," I nodded. I went to my office and close the door. I sent an e-mail to Garcia to find the post. I made the phone call and hung up. Garcia knocked on my door and opened it. "Yes, Garcia?"
"I think I found it," Garcia nodded as she handed me the paper. I looked at it. "Is that right."
"Huh," I scoffed. "Yes."
"'Cause I found it, do I get to know what it's about?" Garcia asked.
"The reaper," I sighed.
"Like...The Boston Reaper?" Garcia asked. I nodded. "I didn't even know the BAU worked on that case."
"It was Dad's first case for the BAU as lead profiler," I sighed.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but we don't have a profile for the reaper in our system, do we?" Garcia asked.
"This will be all, Penelope," I sighed. "You can go home now."
"Okay," Garcia nodded. "Good night, Alee."
"Good night," I nodded as she left my office. The hours went by. At seven am, I took a shower and got dressed into the extra clothes I had in the office. My desk phone rang and i picked up. "SSA Alee Hotchner."
"Tom Shaunessy died this morning," Dad responded.
"This morning?" I asked. I could feel Dad's nod. "Well, it's a good thing that he went quickly in the end." I sighed. "Thanks, Dad. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am still refreshing my mind with this case. It was ten years ago." I hung up. I sent an e-mail to JJ. Within fifteen minutes, she appeared at my door. "Hey."
"You wanted to know immediately about any unusual Boston homicides?" JJ asked.
"Yes," I nodded. She handed me a case and I looked at it. I closed the file and I grabbed my bag. "We're going to Boston."
"Well, shouldn't we wait for the official request?" JJ asked as she followed me out of my office. "We haven't been invited."
"We will be," I replied. We boarded the plane and everyone got a file on the case. "This is a great refresher."
"Baby girl, wanna tell me why you bolted so fast out of your office?" Morgan asked.
"Not really," I nodded. I opened my case file and looked at the notes. "The reaper is driven by a need to dominate, control, and manipulate."
"So then why would he officer a deal that would stop him from doing that?" Prentiss asked.
"Well, killing gave him power, but after so many, the payoff began to diminish," I replied. "So, he decided to switch tactics. Offering the deal gave him the ultimate power, better even than killing. He manipulated the police into voluntarily surrendering."
"He even got it in writing," Reid stated.
"He won. Why start killing again?" JJ asked.
"Well, because the only person who knew he'd won, the person he made a deal with, just died," Morgan replied.
"Narcissistic killers need other people to recognize their power," Rossi stated. "That's why they contact the media."
"So how did he stop for ten years?" Prentiss asked.
"In Night of the Reaper, the author suggests he had been arrested for an unrelated crime or died," Reid replied as he picked up the book. "Perhaps he's trying to correct that misconception."
"What has he been doing all this time?" JJ asked.
"Planning what he would do if he started killing again," I replied.
"For three years, he shoots, stabs, and bludgeons twenty one victims," Morgan looked at me. "Men, women all ages, all types. No specific victimology or MO. How do you build a profile from there?"
"My dad didn't," I sighed. "Shaunessy sent them home before they had a chance."
"What?" Morgan asked.
"BTK, The Zodiac, and The Reaper all have similarities," I nodded. "They're all highly intelligent, disciplined, sadistic killers who name themselves in the press."
"Highly intelligent may be a bit of an understatement," Reid nodded. "The Reaper and The Zodiac Killer have never been arrested. The BTK Killer was only caught after twenty five years because he went to the press to counter a book that said he'd died, moved away, or been locked up, just like this one."
"Speaking of the media, when this one gets out, it's going to be a frenzy," JJ replied. "If they get wind of this, they're going to be all over the Boston Police." JJ held up the contract. "What do I do?"
"The longer we can float the copycat story, they better chance we'll have of catching him," I nodded. "Rossi, Prentiss, and Morgan, go to the field office, set up shop, go through everything there. JJ and Reid, we'll go to the crime scene."
"Okay," Morgan sighed. "Do you want to tell us what's going on?"
"Ten years, Tom Shaunessy let the killer go," I replied. "For ten years, the guy has been watching Shaunessy, waiting for him to die." I looked at everyone. "I'm not letting him get away this time. This was the first case my dad worked when he was the lead profiler. Sure, sooner or later, he would've caught a break if Shaunessy hadn't closed the investigation." I looked back at Morgan. "I'm not going to let this happen again." We landed. JJ, Reid, and I went to the crime scene. "Wait in the car till I say so." I walked up to a a guy. "Mike?"
"Who are you?" he asked.
"FBI SSA Alee Hotchner," I replied. "My dad worked on this case with you."
"Yeah," Mike nodded. "Why'd they send you?"
"Because I took my dad's spot on the team," I replied. "But Mike, this isn't a copycat. I wish it were, but it isn't."
"Yeah, no offense, you don't know that," Mike replied. "And I didn't invite you in."
"Shaunessy did," I nodded. I handed him the letter. He looked at the letter and then looked at me. "Want to invite us in?" He nodded. I waved to the SUV. JJ and Reid got out of the car. "We're here now."
"What was he thinking?" Mike asked. "This could destroy the department."
"I know," I sighed. JJ and Reid walked over to us. "This is SSA Jennifer Jareau, Dr. Spencer Reid, Sergeant Mike O'mara."
"Uh, we're setting up at the field office," JJ replied.
"Okay, I'm done here," Mike stated. "Give them anything they want."
"Thank you," I nodded.
Reid got a case file. "Nina Hale, 19, and Evan Harvey, 23," Reid stated. "Nina's throat was slashed, she was stabbed forty six times. Evan was bludgeoned and then shot. No shell casings were found."
"He preferred revolvers, forty four magnum," I replied. I looked at the case file my dad had. "The younger the female victim, the more time he spends with them, usually with a knife."
"Tan line on her wrist," Reid stated. "Probably wearing a watch of some sort."
"Do we have his wallet?" I asked one of the crime scene unit member. The guy nodded and handed it to me. "The Reaper took items from each victim and placed them on the next, so as to make sure we knew it was him." I looked at the driver license of the male victim. "No corrective lens requirement."
"The glasses aren't his?" Reid asked.
"He only took glasses from one victim --- the ninth," I responded. "We should've found them on the tenth and we didn't. They were never found."
"What was so special about the ninth victim?" Reid asked.
"He survived," I nodded. "Let's go." We went to the field office and walked into the conference room. "George Foyet, twenty eight, was the ninth victim and the only one to survive the reaper."
"Not for lack of trying," Rossi nodded.
"Amanda Bertrand, nineteen, his date for the evening, was not as lucky," I replied. "Before we go on, I want you all to know I will be working this case from my point of view. I remember my dad teaching me this case and told me to work it like I was on his shoes and that's exactly what I'm doing. Everyone got that?" They nodded. "Alright, moving on. The reaper likes to attack them inside or near their cars, at night, on poorly lit, less populated roads."
"Foyet said he approached them pretending to be a lost tourist," Mike stated. "In the hospital, we put Foyet with a sketch artist."
"The reaper always uses some sort of ruse to get close to and spend time with his victims," I nodded.
"The eye, as he depicts it, appears to be The Eye of Providence, a symbol adopted by the US Government and incorporated into The Great Seal in 1782 with the words, annuit coeptis inscribed beneath," Reid stated. "That's Latin for providence --- or fate --- has favored our undertakings. The reaper seems to see himself as the personification of fate."
"So, how did Foyet survive?" Prentiss asked. A 911 recording started playing on the screen. "That's it?"
"That call was made from a payphone about a mile crime the crime scene," Reid replied. "EMTs arrived fifteen minutes later. Bertrand was DOA, Foyet barely breathing."
"So the reaper made one of these calls after each of his killings telling the polic where to find the bodies," Prentiss stated.
"Until this one, the ninth," I nodded. "If he hadn't made this call, Foyet wouldn't have been found in time. The call saved him."
"So the reaper didn't make any 911 calls after this one," Morgan sighed. I nodded. "Man."
"Looks like he learned his lesson," Prentiss stated as JJ picked up a call on her phone.
"There's a reason he left Foyet's glasses at the last crime scene," I sighed as I showed the glasses in a ziploc bag. "Foyet could be in danger."
"We'll find him," Prentiss stated as everyone got up and left the table.
"Alee, there's a reporter outside insisting on speaking with you," JJ replied. "They hung up on me. Well, they wanted to speak with the man in charge of the case. That used to be your dad and now it's you." I sighed as I got up. "His name is Roy Colson. He says he knows your dad."
"Thanks," I nodded. I walked outside. "Roy?"
"I was looking for Agent Hotchner," said the guy.
"Well, ten years ago my dad was in charge of the case," I replied. "Now I am. I am Agent Hotchner. How can I help you?"
"So, if it's just a copycat, what are you doing here?" Roy asked as we shook hands.
"Helping the police catch him," I replied.
"Is that your story?" Roy asked. "Come on, I wrote the book on this guy. I even sent your dad a signed copy." I looked at him. "I assume you guys got it."
"And I read it cover to cover," I nodded. "But, officially, we have no reason to think that he's anything but a copycat."
"Well, how about unofficially?" Roy asked.
"What's more important to you, Roy, getting the story or getting the killer?" I asked.
"I spend time with the families," Roy looked at me. "I, uh, I told the victims' stories. Now, you would know that if you read my book."
"It's a good book, Roy," I stopped him from walking away from me. "You treated the victims with respect and you treated us fairly."
"Every dime I made went to the families," Roy nodded.
"I know and that's why I came down. It's what my dad would've done," I nodded. "The minute I have something I can say, I'll call you." We shook hands and he handed me his card. "Thanks." I walked back inside. Night fell and we got a call about two more victims. Rossi and I went to the scene. "Great."
"Another couple," Rossi stated. "Much older this time. One shot and one stabbed." I looked at the scene more carefully. "No reason to stop out here."
"His license and registration are out of his wallet," I responded. "Looks like he used a cop ruse."
"Good spot," Rossi nodded. "Isolated, few drivers."
"He left Nina Hale's watch," I stated.
"Okay, so what'd he take?" Rossi asked.
"His wedding ring," I sighed.
"Arthur and DIane Lanessa," Mike stated as he walked up to us. "Weymouth. Married thirty two years. They were coming home from the Elks, where they played bingo twice a week." I nodded. "I gotta go make notification."
"You want company?" Rossi asked.
"I got it," Mike replied.
"Looks like he went through her purse," I sighed as Mike walked off.
"Any idea what he was looking for?" Rossi asked. I opened the visor and a picture fell out It had FATE? written across a family photo in blood. I walked over to Rossi and handed it to him. "The question mark is new."
"It's for us," I nodded. "He's saying it's not fate. He's saying we had ten years to save them and that these latest ones are on us."
"You got all that from one question mark?" Rossi asked. "That's impressive."
"I may know him better than I've let on," I sighed.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that there is a profile on the reaper."
"I thought we were called off before we had one."
"We were. My dad had just started the profile and then he stopped killing. Officially speaking, we were done. But this case ---"
"It stuck with him, and it was handed down to you."
"Dad kept going back to it over the years and I helped him work on it alone."
"So you never shared it with anyone."
"I know Dad and I always preached that profiling is a collaborative effort, but this one wasn't," I looked at Rossi. I don't know, maybe if --- if Dad and I were wrong, I was gonna head us in the wrong direction."
"Now you think you're right," Rossi sighed.
"The more I see, the more accurate I think it may be," I replied.
"Okay," Rossi nodded. "Then we need to hear it."
"Okay," I nodded. We went back to the field office and gathered everyone. "Everyone here thinks we don't have a profile. My dad and I always says profiling is a collaborative effort. This one wasn't it. But my dad and I collaborated on this one." I stood up straight. "The reaper fits a profile we refer to as an omnivore. Unlike most serial killers, an omnivore doesn't target a specific victim type. Although he tends to focus on his younger female victims with his knife, he's essentially is a predator who will kill anyone."
"Why is he so democratic?" Mike asked.
"Because his kills aren't just about his victims," I sighed. "He needs recognition. He needs us to know." Dad popped up on the screen next to me. "I asked my dad, former Agent Aaron Hotchner, to help me deliver this profile."
"Hello Mike," Dad replied. "I'll fill in whatever my daughter doesn't touch base on."
"The symbols, the placement of prior victims' possessions on subsequent victims --- it's all for us," Rossi stated.
"Why?" Mike asked.
"Power," Dad stated, before I had a chance. "The Shaunessy letter is the clearest example of this. He manipulated Tom Shaunessy into literally surrendering to him."
"The burden was too much to bear," Rossi nodded. "In a very real sense, Tom Shaunessy was the reaper's twenty second victim."
"Like BTK killer, Dennis Rader, the reaper is extremely disciplined," Dad pointed.
"In his everyday life, this will very likely make him so inflexible, he can't keep close relationships or work closely with others," I nodded.
"I believe our killer has another interest that may give us our best opportunity to catch him," Rossi responded. "The reaper's last victim was an older woman. He killed her quickly with a single shot. The prior, younger victim he spent more time with and stabbed forty six times."
"Why?" Mike asked.
"He pays special attention to his younger female victims, and his weapon of choice with them is the knife, a substitute instrument for bodily penetration," Dad stated.
"And the younger the victim, the more time and effort he spends," Rossi added. "I think our guy is a hebephile."
"Hebephile?" Mike asked.
"A hebe what now?" I asked.
"A hebephile is someone's who's attracted to adolescent post-pubescent children," Reid stated.
"Look for men with access and authority --- high school teachers, counselors, coaches, and anyone who's been charged with sex crimes against teenage girls in the last ten years," I stated. "I'll talk to you later, Dad."
"But you're a teenage girl yourself," Mike stated as I ended the call with Dad.
"I'm twenty two," I stated, annoyed. Prentiss walked out to me and gave me a look. "That's all for now. Thank you." I followed Prentiss into a smaller room. "What's going on?"
"Garcia can't find George Foyet," Morgan stated.
"I've got nothing, Alee," Garcia sighed over the phone.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"He's gone," Garcia stated. "I mean, he's completely off the grid, and he's gone."
"How is that possible?" I asked.
"Nine months after he was released from the hospital, he, uh, quit his job, sold his car, closed his bank accounts, canceled his credit cards, cell phone, apartment, everything," Garcia replied. "He has no paper, thus he has no trail, and I can't find him 'cause he's gone."
"You think it's intentional?" I asked.
"I think it's more than that," Garcia sighed. "Like, even dead people stay on the grid for decades." I looked at Morgan. "Take it from me, erasing yourself like this, it's extremely difficult. It takes commitment. You'd have to be willing to cut every tie of everything and everyone you've ever known in your entire life. It's like --- it's like killing yourself." I sighed. "I gotta say, this is impressive."
"Well, after what the guy's been through, can you blame him?" Prentiss asked. "Foyet's the only living person who knows what the reaper looks like and he's still out there."
"Come here," Morgan sighed. I walked over to him and face my back to him. He hugged me from behind. He was sitting on the desk. "What are you thinking?"
"It doesn't change the fact that we still need to find him," I nodded.
"I'll keep looking," Garcia replied.
"Garcia, we don't have much time," I nodded.
"I know," Garcia stated.
"He would have to completely isolate himself," Morgan stated. "He's totally alone."
"But how do you cut all ties?" Prentiss asked. "You'd have to talk to someone, right?"
I started thinking. I looked at the book Roy wrote. "JJ," I stated. JJ walked in and I handed her his card. "Cash in that favor for a location on Foyet."
"On it," JJ left the room.
The next morning came and JJ handed me an address. "Let's go, Rossi," I stated. We got into an SUV and I drove to the location and parked across the street. "Here we are."
"How'd Colson find him?" Rossi asked.
"He interviewed Foyet extensively for his book," I replied. "They kept in touch, but Foyet wouldn't give him his number. He gave him one of his aliases, though." We saw a guy walking. "That's him." Rossi and I got out of the car and walked to the guy. "George Foyet?" He looked at us a bit scared. "It's okay. We're FBI. This is Agent Rossi." Rossi showed his badge as i got mine out and showed it. "I'm Agent Hotchner. You met my dad before. Do you remember him?"
"Yeah, I remember," George nodded. "Would you mind if we get off the street, please?"
"Sure," I nodded. We went to his place. "Okay."
"How'd you guys find me?" George asked.
"Roy Colson," I sighed.
"Oh," George sighed. "Well, is this gonna take long? 'Cause I really can't be late for work."
"What do you do?" I asked.
"I'm a freelance computer specialist for the city," George nodded.
"We're sorry to bother you," Rossi nodded. "We'll make it as quick as possible."
"Is this yours?" I asked as I showed him the glasses in a ziploc bag.
"I knew it wasn't a copycat," George stated. "I was gonna propose to her that night...at the restaurant, but I got cold feet." I sighed. "The ring was still in my pocket when he approached us. He said he was lost." He told us his story again. Even though I already knew his story. "I'm sorry."
"Have you received any strange letters or calls?" Rossi asked. "Hang ups?"
"I keep residences under different names," George replied. "I move between them randomly. He likes to get you in a car, so I take the bus. I went through great lengths to make sure that none of the things you've just mentioned ever happened."
"We'll need your other names and residences so we can reach you," Rossi handed him a pad.
"We can take you someplace safe until this is over," I offered. "We care about your safety, George."