Unknown- A Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 34- Pacing and Paranoia

Monday morning I was feeling significantly better, but even if I hadn't, I still would've gone in to work.  I had never been so eager to actually do something again.

I showered and double-checked to make sure my go-bag was packed with clean clothes, and then had just enough time to make and eat breakfast and take Chocolate out before leaving for work.  I walked into the bullpen at exactly 8:30 according to my phone, a new record in regards to not being late.

When I had finally felt well enough to get out of bed late yesterday afternoon, I had retrieved my phone from the floor where I had thrown it against the wall on Wednesday night or Thursday morning, I wasn't sure what time I had answered that phone call.  Spider web cracks had spread across one corner of the screen, but the phone was dead anyways so I let it charge all night.  Evidently it worked now, it was telling me I had seven missed calls, dating back to late Thursday night.

I dropped my stuff at my desk and went in search of a high-caffeine substitute to coffee in the break room, absentmindedly checking my phone as I did so.  I had four missed calls, one from JJ, one from Rossi, one from Garcia, and one from Reid, and three voicemails.  Reid'd been right, I hadn't answered my phone.

I played the voicemails as I got myself a soda from the vending machine and snitched a donut from the box someone had brought in that was sitting on the counter.  I had a feeling it had been Garcia, judging by the scrawl across the top that said, 'Enjoy!' in loopy handwriting, adorned with a heart dot over the j and a little smiley face after the exclamation point. 

"Hey McDowell.  It's, uh, Reid.  Why haven't you answered your phone?  I'm on my way to your apartment right now cause the team's worried about you, so Morgan said I should stop by just in case.  Call me back when you get this and, uh...bye."

I smiled to myself, he sounded like such a dork even over voicemail.

I nodded to Prentiss as she came into the break room, listening as the second voicemail played.

"I'll wait until you're feeling better to see you.  You're still trying to solve the puzzle, aren't you?  Stop worrying, all your questions will soon be answered."

My muscles tensed, and I glanced surreptitiously over my shoulder at where Prentiss was brewing a new pot of coffee. 

The machine had read the message off as having been recorded on Thursday, October 20th.  And there was another message, from Saturday afternoon.

"You're an ethereal being when you sleep.  I could hardly prevent myself from coming to visit you.  But there is the matter of your dog..."

My whole body stiffened, and I had to clench my fingers to keep the phone in my hand.  It was either going to slip out or I'd end up flinging it against the wall again.

Prentiss must have noticed I was acting strange, she stopped on her way out of the break room and asked casually, "Hey, McDowell, you okay?"  She did a pretty good job hiding the curiosity and concern behind her question, but I was a profiler and picked up on it anyways.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, breaking the marble that had coated all of my limbs before turning to face her and replying just as casually, "Yeah, fine."

"All right," she seemed to believe me and then continued on her way out of the room.

I sighed and forced the fear back just like I stuffed my phone back in my butt pocket, returning to my desk in the bullpen.  I scribbled the six sentences down on two sticky notes and then crammed them in the bottom of my bag before returning to the endless task of completing case files.  Needless to say, I knew what I was going to spend my night doing. 

Or at least I knew until we got a case right before lunch and then jetted off to a small town right outside of Seattle.  As horrible as it sounds, I had never been more grateful to have to work a disturbing case to keep my mind off of all my other problems.  And it most definitely was a disturbing case, three victims in two weeks, decapitated and missing hands and feet, left in their homes with no signs of forced entry.

After we checked out the crime scenes and talked to the families, we spent the night putting together a rough profile while Garcia did deep dive background checks on the victims.  But right before noon on Tuesday, the local cops informed us that there was another victim, found that morning in her home when the dog walker came. 

I went with Hotch and Prentiss to check out the crime scene, but it was just like all the rest.  Her hands and feet were chopped off and nowhere to be found, and she'd been decapitated.

This victim had barely been twenty-four hours after the third one, rather than the few days between the second and third and the more than a week between the first and second. He was escalating, most likely because he knew we were in town.

We didn't get a lead until that afternoon when the latest victim's ME report came back.  The hands, feet, and head had been chopped off by, most likely guess, a cleaver.  With that information, Garcia found a connection between the victims late that night, calling us in the midst of everyone else's third pot of coffee.

Apparently all of them were at the farmer's market three weeks ago, so Hotch decreed we'd check it out tomorrow morning and then advised all of us to attempt to get some sleep.  Of course none of us wanted to, but of course all of us listened, or at least pretended to. 

Around four in the morning, Prentiss finally remarked that my pacing wasn't getting us anywhere and that we should try to get the few hours of sleep we could.  I was sharing a room with Prentiss and JJ--I had the pullout couch, but I wasn't about to complain--and they both looked about as exhausted as I felt, so I gave up and we all went to bed.

Only to all be startled awake by my screaming as I clawed at the blankets tangled around me.

"McDowell, you're fine," I heard one of them say reassuringly.  I heaved a few breaths, peering through the dark for the glinting knife that had just run through my chest.

JJ perched on the edge of the pullout couch, Prentiss standing behind her.

"Hey, it wasn't real," Prentiss said.

I was glad it was dark enough that they couldn't see my cheeks flush red in embarrassment, but I managed to nod and push out, "I know.  Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you guys up.  I didn't mean to have a nightmare either, but..." before trailing off.

"We all get them sometimes," JJ said.

"You sure you're all right?" Prentiss asked.

I exhaled heavily, "Yeah, sorry," apologizing again before I lay back down and they both climbed back in their beds.

I didn't bother clarifying that my nightmares weren't about the cases that we worked like they assumed, they were about my stalker.  He had been threatening to hurt me for so long, I could hardly remember not being paranoid for my life.