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Twelve hours - part 3

Title: Twelve hours

Pairing: Morgan/Garcia friendship

Rating: PG-13 – just to be sure

Disclaimer: All BAU characters belong to CBS, the rest came out of my own freaky mind

Summary: Another woman is abducted and the team once again only has twelve hours to find her. Will a surviving victim help them rescue her? Besides after a serious fight Garcia refuses to talk to Morgan. What will it take to bring them back together again?

warnings: none

Please read and review

“This wasn’t him, was it?” Sheriff Logan asked and gave Hotch a puzzled look. “I mean, this is not the same… um… MO, right?”

Hotch furrowed his brows and looked at the body. “It was him.” he answered. “But something went wrong.”

“Are you sure?” Deputy Miller looked up from his notepad first at Hotch and then at the body. “Where’s the bunker he usually builds?”

“That is what went wrong.” Derek replied. “Maybe he abducted Mrs. Jenkins before he was able to finish it.”

“Didn’t you say he is well organized.” the Deputy frowned. “So how could this happen?”

“Mr. Jenkins testified that they wanted to go on a holiday tomorrow.” Spencer said and looked at Hotch.

He nodded and added: “That means he observes his victims before he abducts them.”

“Observes them?” Logan raised his eyebrows. “How long?”

“We can’t be sure about that.” Spencer replied. “But he observes them long enough to know about their daily routines. He picks out the best moment for the abduction. He follows them probably and waits until he thinks the time is right.”

“Okay, so he abducted Mrs. Jenkins because she wanted to go on a holiday.” Miller took down notes. “Why didn’t he wait until she came back? I mean, wouldn’t it have taken quite long to build this bunker anyway?”

“It depends on how far he’d already come.” Spencer shrugged. “Maybe only the door was missing so he couldn’t close it.”

“Well, he buried her alive anyway.” the coroner said and got up leaving the body for his team. “She breathed in some of the soil.”

“So we know he’s observing his victims.” Logan sighs. “How do we know who’ll be next? I mean, there isn’t any connection between the victims, is there?”

“Not any we found yet.” Derek answered watching the coroner’s assistants wrap the body in a body bag. “Except the fact that they all lived in Chicago.”

“We’ll tell Garcia to check all police reports” Hotch declared. “and those from the hospitals, too. Maybe they all have reported a crime to the same police officer or something.”

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“Why exactly does he dress the women up as brides?” Garcia asked after she’d received the photos of the crime scene.

“We don’t know.” Hotch answered. “But it’s probably part of his fantasy.”

“Nice fantasy.” she murmured.

“The white dress probably signifies innocence.” Reid suggested. “Maybe his fantasy is that he… is cleansing them of their sins.”

“Yeah, or maybe he just likes the dress.” Derek shrugged.

“Were you able to locate her when she called?” Hotch wanted to know.

“Yes” Derek could hear her triumphing smile. “she’s been only two miles away from the police station close to a motel.”

Hotch took down the address Garcia gave him and handed it to Derek: “Emily, you and Derek check this motel and try to find Mrs. Raven.”

They both simply nodded. Hotch handed Derek the note. The latter took it, read it and passed it to Emily who was frowning. Derek could tell from her face that she was thinking the same he was. If this woman didn’t want to be found why was she so unmindful?

“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch looked at the phone on the table. “You should go home now.”

“Sir, I just received the photos and it takes a while to analyze them so I’d better…”

“Garcia” he gently interrupted her. “it’s late and you’ve been up for at least two days now. Go home and try to sleep, at least a little. We’ll go to the motel now and leave the rest for tomorrow. Mrs. Jenkins died about five hours ago, we can’t do anything now.”

“Sir, I really…”

Hotch interrupted her again: “This was not a request. It was a command. Go home, Garcia. We need you fresh and rested tomorrow.”

She sighed and Derek could have sworn he heard her shake her head. “Yes, Sir, I’ll shut everything down and go home.”

“I’ll tell the security guard to check whether you went home or not.” Hotch threatened her. He knew as well as anyone else on the team that Penelope was an insomniac and stayed up for nights on every case. But she needed to rest as much as the rest of them even though she usually denied that.

She moaned. “I’ll go home right now.” she promised. “Good night.”

“Good night.” he couldn’t stop the edges of his mouth from rising slightly and hung up. “Derek, Emily, before the two of you get to our hotel, ask the receptionist in the motel whether she’d seen Mrs. Raven.”

“Yes, Sir.” Emily nodded and left with Derek.

“Do you think she’s there?” Spencer asked.

Hotch simply shook his head. “I don’t think she is or ever was at this motel. She has a drop and her phone number is concealed. So she’ll probably not phone her sister from the place where she’s hiding. Anyway, it still is the only thing we have.”

“So we basically have nothing.” he sighed.

Hotch tried to give him a comforting glance: “Not until we can figure out what all of these women have in common. If he observes them that means that they are not occasional victims. He must have met them anywhere.”

“So the only question is where.” he murmured.

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He watched her leaving the building and smiled. The bridal dress laid neatly at his back seat. He couldn’t wait to see her in that dress. It was the most beautiful dress for any woman in the world, so pure and innocent. Simply white, untouched. Oh, she would look so beautiful! He followed her car to her apartment house where he’d spent the past two nights watching her. But he had waited long enough, watched long enough. It was time to act. But not right now. He still had to wait until she would switch off the lights and go to sleep. But this would be the night he’d finally put his plan into action. He couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to see the fear in her beautiful dark and always cheerful eyes. He wanted to see her breaking at death’s door, wanted to hear her swearing, damning him, finally screaming and crying. Moreover it was definitely too exhausting to commute between Chicago and Quantico every day. He couldn’t believe it had been that easy to take the minds of these profilers off his real target. They would spend hours worrying why he had buried Mrs. Jenkins without a bunker.

At one a.m. she finally switched her lights off. He smiled grabbing the handkerchief and the chloroform. He already knew that she didn’t have an alarm so it should be easy to get inside her apartment. She’d fed the dog she was sitting but left him in the other apartment. That would turn out to be a bad mistake. He smiled at this thought slowly going up the stairs towards her apartment. It didn’t take him long to break the door. Carefully he made his way towards the bedroom. Slowly he opened the door.

She was lying on the bed, breathing constantly, calmly, obviously sleeping. Her long, curled, golden hair was spread over the pillow framing her peaceful face. For a moment he just stood in the door watching her. Finally he approached the bed reaching out his hand for her. She woke up, looked at him in shock and wanted to scream. But his fist hit her hard before she could react. He lunged at her, trying to put the handkerchief soaking with chloroform over her mouth. She fought him, squirming and writhing beneath him. She managed to claw him, to hit him with her fist. She even managed to get off the bed. Running out of the bedroom she threw a lamp in his direction that almost hit him. He smiled. Her fighting spirit exceeded all his expectations.

He caught up wirh her in the living room, grabbing her hair, pulling her head back and throwing her at the wall the next moment. She fell to the floor and gasped in pain. Then she grabbed the first thing she could reach which was a fragment of the broken lamp. Attacking him she stabbed the fragment deep into his arm. She felt dizzy and stumbled as she got up.

He cried out in pain and pulled the fragment out of his arm. He noticed her stumbling towards the door. In a fast movement he blocked her way and smiled, finally seeing the expression he’d been craving from the moment he first saw her on her face: fear. She tried to beat him again, but because of her dizziness he was faster, grabbed her and pressed the handkerchief on her mouth. She tried to push his hand away, tried to fight him, managed to claw him another time before she finally passed out.

He looked at the traces of blood that were scattered across the floor of her living room, his and hers equally. He never would have guessed that she’d be that strong that combative. Now he could still less wait to see her breaking. To break that strong will of hers would be his greatest triumph.

Smiling again he slowly undressed her. Then he got the bridal dress he had hung at the coat rack and dressed her. He took his time, no need to hurry, watching her in the white dress. He wiped the blood off her face and looked at the wound on her forehead where her head had hit the wall. It had stopped bleeding so it shouldn’t cause her too many problems – at least not enough to be unconscious while the air was running low. Finally he picked her up and carried her to his car. They had quite a long way ahead of them.