Unknown- A Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 21- 'Daddy's Girl?'

We pulled another of our numerous all-nighters modifying the profile and waiting for the M.E.'s report on the victim, and at five in the morning Hotch suggested we all go back to our hotel rooms, get a little rest, take a shower, and then come back fresh before the day officially started.  Though none of us wanted to follow his 'suggestion' of course, we all did as he asked and went back to our hotel. No doubling with Reid for me this time, which was just fine considering I had technically shared a room with him two nights ago.

I took a thirty-minute power nap and then showered and changed clothes.  On my way out the door with Rossi and Morgan, the lady at the front desk stopped Rossi and asked, "Sir, is one of your agents named Charlotte McDowell?"

"Yes, this is her right here," Rossi answered, gesturing to me, but I could detect the underlying skepticism in his voice.  I was skeptical as well as to why she was asking about me, and it wasn't often I heard a stranger, or anyone for that matter, use my full name.

"A letter was dropped off for you a few minutes ago," she addressed me, holding out a plain white envelope with my name and the address of the hotel written on it.  I took it, glancing at the dreadfully familiar handwriting and trying to ignore the questioning glances from Rossi and Morgan.

"It's from my dad.  He called me yesterday and I told him about the case.  Since I got this job, it's his idea of a joke to send me mail to 'cheer me up' as he puts it," I lied, tucking the envelope into my bag.

In reality, I hadn't seen or spoken to my dad since I left for college at seventeen, but they wouldn't, and didn't, need to know that.

"Daddy's girl, huh?" Morgan teased.

"Oh yeah, dad jokes never get old," I remarked sarcastically before continuing out the door.

Thankfully, neither of them mentioned anything else about it as we stopped at a café to get breakfast and coffee for everyone and then headed to the police station.

I spent the morning trying to focus on the case, but instead I kept having to mask my anxiety about the letter hidden in the bag slung over the back of my chair.  I didn't get a chance to read it until after lunch when I took a break and locked myself in the bathroom to read it.

Good girl. You haven't strayed too far from home this time.  I'll be waiting when you get back.

The face in the mirror paled, the broken look of horror mimicking the feeling crawling it's way through my body, paralyzing me.  He was following me on cases now and threatening to invade my house.  I exhaled a shuddery sigh and then calmly folded up the letter and put it back in it's envelope, tucking it inside my bag next to the note from Mrs. Mulcahy and the previous letter I had transferred to my bag to prevent other curious eyes from peeping at it.

I checked myself in the mirror, brushing my hair out of my face and putting on my usual no-nonsense expression before returning to the small room we had 'confiscated' to set up for this case.  I could deal with the letter later, currently I was here, and I was relatively safe, but the two kids out there were not so we had to find them before they ended up like I might end up in the future.  I cringed inwardly at the thought.

I took a seat and opened a file, searching through the crime scene photos in front of me to see if I could pick up any clues we had missed.  It was then that I noticed the faint discoloration around the boys fingernails.  It appeared as if dirt was imbedded in the grooves, but the color of the sediment didn't match the surrounding dirt of the forest floor.  I pointed it out, and Hotch skimmed through the M.E. report but couldn't find anything, so I went with Rossi to the M.E.'s office, which was also the local doctor's office.  Small town perks, right?

The minute we got in the SUV, though, Rossi asked me straight out, "How long has it been since you've seen your father?"

"A couple of weeks.  How is that relevant to the case?" I asked, trying my best to not come off as defensive.

He gave me a look.  Clearly, my lie was not working. I had never had a lie fail me before, Rossi must have been a damn good profiler.

"It's not," he answered and then paused before continuing, "But something other than the case is on your mind, which means your attention isn't entirely focused on saving those kids.  There's no shame in skipping a case or two if you need to," he said.

"You don't know where my attention is focused, Rossi.  I've never let my personal life get in the way of work before, why would that suddenly change?" I asked evenly.

He gave me a suspicious look--I assume he was referring to the case with the boy who was poisoned and sexually assaulted, though I suppose he could have been referring to the incident mentioned in my personnel file from my stint with Virginia PD.  Either way though, those were morally correct decisions not influenced by personal life or opinion but rather by logic and ethics. 

 I didn't point that out though, because Rossi seemed to have dropped the subject, and besides, we had just pulled into the parking lot in front of the doctor's office.  Twenty minutes later, we were calling Garcia and patching in the rest of the team while we drove back to the police station.

"Oracle of All Things Knowable.  State your request, please," Garcia answered with one of her usual quirky greetings.

"The M.E. identified the dirt on the victim's fingernails as red clay but there was none in the location we found the body," Rossi told her.

"Sediment is not my specialty but I'll see what I can do," she answered, and I could faintly make out the clicking of her computer keys in the background as she searched for answers.

From the other other end of the phone, Hotch's voice came through asking if Garcia had narrowed the list of suspects down any further, to which she replied she had, her list was only twenty-three people long instead of the original sixty-seven.  And once she had cross-checked it with property containing red clay deposits, we had three suspects.  All male, but only one living alone, with a creek containing red clay running right through his property.

Garcia rattled off the name and the address, and Hotch commanded, "Rossi, McDowell, we'll meet you there.  Thanks, Garcia."

"Always a pleasure, sir," she answered and then a click sounded as both of them hung up. 

I hit the sirens and the lights, and we took off speeding down the country roads.  We pulled up to an old farmhouse seconds before Hotch sped into the rutted dirt driveway with the rest of the team.  We all climbed out, grabbing vests and earpieces, but then a high-pitched scream of terror followed by a loud gunshot sounded from inside the house.

"Now!" Hotch commanded, and I abandoned the vest and drew my gun, taking point with Morgan and rushing the house with the rest of the team.