by Ciana Stone
"Just what he wanted."
"The killer?"
"Who else?"
Galen shrugged. "Anyone on this team. You. None of us want it to be closed."
"Are you sure about that?" She was interested in his perception of the team.
"Absolutely. It's in our blood now. The killer made it personal. To some of us, when Marty was killed. Then Leo nearly died. For the new people, when you were abducted and Gib almost died, it hit home."
"He made it personal," she murmured, then looked at him. "You're right. But what kind of advantage does it provide for him to have the case active?"
Galen shrugged. "Right off the top of my head? To get us where he wants us to be."
Within a blink, she was caught in a cold shiver that prompted her to grab her coat and put it on, then huddle up with her arms crossed and her shoulders up as she hunched into the warm fabric. She suddenly needed to talk to Gib. In private.
But that wasn't going to happen. Not for hours. So, she told herself to store the revelations and fears away, put them in a box, and close it. When they were finally alone, she'd open the box and reveal the awful truths to Gib.
For now, she'd go through the motions of viewing the crime. She got out of the vehicle and started to the house, walking beside Galen.
Did you ever see a lassie,
A lassie, a lassie,
Did you ever see a lassie,
Go this way and that?
Isabelle shivered and took Galen's arm. He gave her a questioning look but said nothing. Grateful for his silence and more for the insulation being in contact with him provided, she steeled herself for what they were about to witness.
Chapter Eighteen
Clarkesville, Tennessee
It'd been a long day, and by ten p.m., they were all tired and frustrated. Forensics had netted no evidence, material, or otherwise from the crime scene. The BAU team met in one of the hotel conference rooms where a small buffet had been set up for them. That meant they could discuss the investigation during dinner.
That grated on Izzi's nerves. She was obviously the only person in the room who felt the need to take a break from it now and again. Everyone knew it was one of her peeves, so rarely did anyone ask her to contribute during the dinner discussions. In fact, there were times when she put in her earphones, listened to music or an audiobook, or sometimes read.
This evening her mind was occupied with the memory that returned today. She went over it time after time as she ate, trying to determine if it was real or something that had been planted in her mind. She prayed it was a real memory, as awful as that would sound should she speak it aloud. But if it was real, that meant someone else had made her forget and gave her a false narrative of her life that she took to be true.
She was more than a little unnerved by it but wasn't going to bring it up in front of the entire team. Only Gib could hear this truth.
"Hold on," Gib held up a hand, and the conversation, which had grown in volume over the last five minutes, silenced. He pulled out his phone and answered. "SAC Foster."
He looked around the room, and his gaze finally landed on Izzi as he said. "Thank you. Yes, we'll await your report."
Gib returned the phone to his jacket pocket. "A call came into the local PD about half an hour after we left the scene. A couple on the way home found something hanging from an old truss bridge. The man told police it looked like someone had thrown a hangman's noose over the truss. In the noose was a small burlap sack, soaked through with blood. The victim's heart and tongue were inside."
"And the girl?" Fiona asked.
"No sign of her. There's a bolo out for her statewide."
"Which means what for us?" Izzi asked.
"I'm not sure I understand the question."
"It's not complicated. Why are we even here? What good does it do? He kills and vanishes like a ghost, leaving us nothing to go on. The only thing we accomplish by being here is bolstering his ego."
Galen agreed, which pleased and surprised her. "It's his way of controlling us," he addressed the comment to Gib. "He wanted us to be here. The question is, why?"
"Do you know?" Gib asked Izzi.
"I wish I did, but no. I don't. I'm just…". She didn't feel she had the authority to finish the statement, so she just let it go and fell silent.
"You're just what?"
Izzi looked up at him, and he persisted. "What, Iz? Talk to us."
"Fine. I'm tired of being reactionary. That's what we are, you know. Already reacting to what he does. Chasing him. Letting him control the game."
"And you'd have us do what?" Leo asked. "Take control somehow?"
"Yes."
"And how would we accomplish that? How do we control the game if we can't find him?"
Here goes nothing. She thought and answered. "We set a trap."
"What kind of trap?" Dennis asked.
"The kind that will get his attention."
Gib leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, an indication to her that while he would do her the courtesy of hearing her out, he still wasn't open to the idea.
"We'd need bait." It was the most straightforward answer she could compose.
"Bait?" Tamara blurted. "As in a person?"
"Yes," Izzi looked directly at Gib.
"And what bait, specifically, do you think would work?" His gaze bored into her with near tangible force.
"One of us."
A babble of voices erupted, and Izzi watched as Gib glared at her, then joined in the discussion.
She waited for over an hour, listening to everyone. Finally, Gib stood. "Listen, we're all tired, and there's nothing more we can do here except finishing up the reports. Fiona and Tamara have volunteered to stay on and take care of that. The rest of us will head back to Quantico in the morning.
"Everyone leaving tomorrow gets an extra two days added to their weekend. Fi? You and Tamara get two days added to your next weekend upon your return."
"Thanks," Fiona said gratefully and was echoed by Tamara.
"You've all earned it. Okay, that's it for me. Wheels up at nine in the morning, so we'll leave here at eight. Get some rest, everyone, and good work."
Galen rose and headed for the door, but paused as he reached Izzi and leaned down to speak softly. "For what it's worth, I agree with you, but the chances of convincing Gib to go along with something like that is slim to none. He won't endanger his people."
"I wasn't talking about the BAU," she said just as softly and then turned so she could look at him. Their gazes met and held, and after a moment he nodded and straightened.
"See you in the morning, Isabelle."
"Yes. Rest well, Galen."
She stood and waited for Gib to walk over to her. "We need to talk," she said.
"Here?"
"No, my room."
"Then let's go."
Neither of them spoke again until they were in Izzi's room. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed. Gib remained standing. Having his hands in the pocket of his slacks and a slight rock back from toes to heels, made him appear impatient.
Or tired.
She understood that.
What they did made you tired in a way most people don't understand. Seeing the darkness in humanity, the barbaric capacity – that weighed on you like a wet wool blanket. Heavy and suffocating. It wore you down, mentally, emotionally, and finally, physically.
Gib wasn't alone. Izzi recognized the signs of exhaustion in other members of the team. Which made it vital that he consider her suggestion without emotion or bias.
"Something happened." She knew that was a bad opening. He was in motion toward her before the final syllable left her lips.
"Are you all right?" He knelt on one knee in front of her.
"I am. I'm sorry, that was a poor choice of words. To be correct, I should have said I remembered something."
"You–you remembered something?"
She'd blame it on fatigue and frustration, that look that
came into his eyes, the change in his expression. "Yes. About the killer."
Gib stood, turned, and sat beside her. "Tell me."
"When we arrived at the crime scene, I heard him singing, and it prompted a memory."
"What did he sing?"
"Do you remember a child's song that went, did you ever see a lassie, a lassie, a lassie."
"Yes, my sisters sang it when they were on the swing-set as kids. He was singing that? Why?
"Because that's what he sang to me the night my mother died."
"And you never remembered until today?"
"No."
"And I'm guessing there's more to it than simply remembering him singing?"
"Yes. He danced to it, holding my mother's dead body," Izzi tried not to let the mental image take shape in her mind again.
She could see the worry starting to turn his expression into a frown. "How can you be sure it's a memory, Iz? And if it is, what made you forget? Moreover, is it significant?"
"Yes, I know it's a memory because now I do remember. And it's significant because someone sang in my ear. Don't you get it? I saw the man in black, dancing with my mother's body, but someone had a hand tangled in my hair, kneeling on my back to keep me in place. And singing to me."
"A man?"
Suddenly she heard it again, so clear. "No. A boy."
"A boy? How old?"
Izzi closed her eyes, listening to the memory. "Teenager? Not grown. His voice hadn't deepened yet. It was a … tenor. Sweet."
"Sweet?"
"The tone, not the monster."
"You mean there's a son of the monster?"
At those words, something slammed into her consciousness like a train. A big dark weight that snuffed out everything. Gib caught her as she toppled over, held, and shook her, patting her face. In a couple of seconds, she stiffened and gasped. "Oh, my God. Gib, he's trying to rebuild his family."
"Are you telling me there's more than one?"
"There was."
She climbed back onto the bed and crossed her legs, Indian style. "I don't know if there still is, but I believe the one holding me was younger. His voice was younger."
Gib paced, stroking his mustache. "That would tie it up, you know. Explain how an adult man could start these killings in 1995 and keep them going for twenty-five years."
He stopped and looked at her. "He had an apprentice."
"So, who are we dealing with now?" she asked what she figured he was thinking. "The teacher or the student?"
"Or both?" Gib added. "Okay, we need to get the team on this as soon as we get back to Quantico, but until then, let's keep this between us."
"Okay."
"And Iz? I don't want to talk about setting traps right now. I know you're thinking you'd make perfect bait and you may be right, but I can't agree to that. Not now, and maybe not ever. I'm asking that you try and understand."
"I do," she said gently and held out her hand. "I couldn't bear putting you in harm's way, either."
"Then where does that leave us?" He took her hand and let her tug him toward the bed. Gib sat with his back propped against the headboard and pulled her up close to his side.
"I don't know," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Honestly, I don't. I just want to stop him. I don't want him to be part of my world, and I know that's selfish, but I'm tired of being afraid and dreading the next time he whispers in my mind or the next time I hear he's taken another life.
"This time –" she pulled back so she could look at him. "He has a little girl, Gib. An innocent child and –" she shook her head and looked away, unable to finish.
"And what, honey?"
Izzi shook her head again, but Gib persisted. "Don't clam up on me. What is it?"
"Tonight, while I was going over it in my head, more of the memories of that night returned. When they killed my mother and brother – after they cut my eyes, the boy kissed me and called me his special love. And I think maybe he touched me, raped me. I haven't remembered it happening, but I suspect it might have."
"And you didn't want me to know?"
"I didn't remember until now. They let me live, but they effectively destroyed my family, and my life would have been destroyed as well if I hadn't met Leo."
"Leo saved your life?"
"No. He opened the door for me to enter a world where monsters get stopped. Through him, I found you, and you saved my life."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes. Loving you saved me, Gib. You were the first person who made me want to learn how to stop my monster. I wanted you to like me, to be proud of me – to love me. You became the reason to keep going, and you still are. But I still feel guilty. I lived, and they didn't.
"And now he has another little girl. Only this one he didn't leave behind, and I'm terrified of what might happen to her. We have to find her. Using me as bait may be dangerous, but I'm willing to take the risk, and I'm begging that you give it consideration. We have to save her, Gib. We just have to."
He was quiet for a long time, and finally, he nodded. "I'll consider it. No guarantees, but I will give it fair consideration. That's all I can promise."
"That's enough. For now."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
She knew he wasn't just giving her lip service. He would honor his word and think about it.
"Do you want me to leave now so you can get some sleep?"
"No. I want you to get undressed and into bed with me. We'll tackle what to do tomorrow, but for now, let's take advantage of the time we have."
"You don't have to ask me twice." Izzi smiled, helped him undress, and then enjoyed the pleasure he delivered as he undressed her.
It didn't erase their problems or her concerns, but at least she could set those things aside for a little while and remind herself that she needed to celebrate and appreciate having Gib back in her life.
She knew now beyond all doubt that he was the one thing she never wanted to live without.
Chapter Nineteen
Quantico, Virginia
Izzi sat beside Galen, and Leo stood behind him as Galen called up the forensic report from the last crime scene. This was the last of the data, and the third time they'd reviewed it. Thus far, nothing new had jumped off the screen at any of them.
Galen pushed back from the desk and crossed his arms for a few moments, frowning at the screen. Then he looked at Izzi. "So, set a trap?"
"It seemed like a good idea when I said it."
"And now?"
"Now, I'm betting she's told Gib, and he said no," Leo answered the question.
"He wasn't a fan of the idea," she admitted.
"Then, what now?" Leo asked.
"Find that girl," Izzi said. "Is there any chance we can get our hands on something that belongs to her?"
"You think you can connect with her?" Leo asked.
"Honestly, probably not. My skills have never run in that direction, but I'm willing to try. We have to find her."
"How?" Galen asked
"I don't know." Izzi wished she did have an idea, some plan or suggestion. She'd done little but think about it since they left Tennessee. "By the way, when are Fi and Tamara due back?"
"Later this afternoon, I think." Leo replied, then frowned across the room.
Izzi turned her head at the same time Galen swiveled in his chair. Gib was just entering the room, and the expression on his face made a sick feeling take root in her stomach. He stopped and looked at them. "This morning, during shift change, a police officer reported that the officer posted outside Fiona, and Tamara's room was not to be found in the hotel. There was no answer when he knocked, or when the hotel called the phone in the room, so the manager opened the door."
When his gaze locked on her, she knew it was bad, but nodded to let him know she could take whatever he had to say.
"Fiona was on the floor. Tied with articles of clothing and gagged. She'd been beaten badly, and a note was stapled to her chest."
"Stapled
?" Leo blurted.
"Yes, but not an office stapler. A construction model that was taken from hotel maintenance."
"And the note said?" Galen asked.
"Game on."
Izzi barely made it out of her chair and to a trash can before vomiting. Leo took off out of the room as Gib hurried to her, grabbed her hair, and held it back from her face as she retched. By the time her stomach was empty, Leo was back with wet paper-towels in one hand and dry ones in the other.
"Thank you," she gratefully accepted both, cleaned herself up, dumped everything into the trash, and removed the plastic bag from the can. "Excuse me."
Izzi had to force herself to walk a normal pace to the restroom. She wanted to run. Once inside the bathroom, she stuffed the vile bag into the trash and set about rinsing her mouth and splashing water on her face. When the door opened, she whirled to see Gib enter, carrying her shoulder bag.
"Thank you," she took it, set it on the sink, and started rambling through it. "Yes!" she pulled out the mini bottle of mouth wash she'd taken from the hotel.
"Old habits?" Gib asked as she opened it and filled her mouth.
She nodded, swished, gargled, spit, and rinsed. As she was drying her face, he walked over behind her and put his hands on top of her shoulders. "Want to tell me what just happened?"
"Game on." She looked up at him.
"The note?"
She nodded. "Where's Tamara?"
"We don't know."
"I do."
"Where?"
"He has her."
"You can't know that, Iz."
"But I do. In my gut, I know. She's first in the game." Izzi turned to face him. "He's going to kill her Gib, and it's going to be horrible. Now's the time for us to act. Turn his attention to me. Offer to make a trade. Something. We can't let him–" Thoughts of what he was capable of doing, robbed her of breath, and she had to choke back a sob.
Gib pulled her into his arms. "We don't even know how to go about trying something like that."
"I do," she broke free, swiped at her eyes, and turned to snatch tissues from a container on the sink. "I know."
After blowing her nose and splashing water on her face again, she took a deep breath and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. "I know," she repeated, this time in control of her voice. "And before it's over, you're going to want me to use what I know how to do."