Blood and Battle | Criminal Minds (gxg)

Chapter 23

TW: abduction

I sit at my desk, leaning back in my chair and staring off into space. I try and fail to make sense of the emotions threatening to take over. Friends. Friends, I can do that. Right?

Someone taps my shoulder. It's JJ. "Hey, you okay?" Her head tilts to one side and she looks concerned.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Her eyes examine my expression. "You just had this look in your eyes, like... something's wrong."

"Nope, I'm good," I respond casually, not daring to glance in Elle's direction.

JJ looks at me with her eyebrows raised, telling me she wants to know more. Thankfully, Hotch interrupts my interrogation.

"Hey," he calls as he exits his office and holds up a case file.

We all exchange glances and stand from our seats. I follow JJ with the others behind me.

Just as I'm about to enter the conference room a hand grabs my elbow.

She spins me toward her. "Hey, are we good?"

I smile, "Yeah, we're good." My heart screams.

Elle quickly lets go of me as we enter the room.

"What do we got?" I take a seat at the round table, between Elle and Spencer.

"Abduction. 17 year old girl." Hotch pauses. "Trish Davenport, the daughter of the District Attorney of New Haven, Connecticut."

"How much does the unsub want?" I ask.

"Half a million."

Morgan whistles. 

Hotch continues to outline the case. "Trish's boyfriend, Jordan, found dead at the scene. Gunshot to the head."

"Is the money the only motive?" Elle questions.

"As far as we know. This case is sensitive. Trish has been missing for 4 hours." We nod our heads. With child abductions, the first 24 hours are critical. After the time frame passes, the chances of survival drop to nearly none.

"Wheels up in twenty."

---

The District Attorney lives in an upper middle class neighborhood, a big white house with an American flag hanging from a porch column. I step out of the car and breathe deeply, welcoming the crisp New England October air.

I turn to find Morgan smiling at me. "Homesick?"

"Just appreciating the weather." I return the smile.

"Too many trees," Elle mutters behind me.

I look back at her. "Alright, Manhattan," I laugh as I turn back to the house. She chuckles behind me.

It's the middle of the afternoon and the sun shines onto my back, soaking through my black leather jacket. The leaves of the two oak trees on the front lawn already changed. Bright oranges and reds color the branches while even more litter the ground.

I follow the team towards the front door, finding familiarity in the sound of leaves crunching under my boots.

Once inside the house, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. No sun shines here, a heavy shadow hanging over the room. Agents and cops fill the foyer. I'm directly behind Hotch and Gideon as we approach the father.

"Mr. Davenport? SSA Aaron Hotchner," Hotch introduces himself as he shakes the DA's hand. "This is my team." He gestures towards the rest of us.

Davenport's gaze passes over each of us. "Thank you for coming. I need your help."

We follow him into the dining room where his agents set up. He gestures to a man at his side. "This is Agent Malleck, head of my security."

Malleck's gaze passes over each of us. "Anything you need, we can get."

"Please, bring her home," Davenport pleads. I can hear the desperation in his voice. A parent's worst fear come true.

"We'll find her."

He smiles, grateful, before someone calls him into the next room.

---

Thirty minutes later the communications device is  ready to go. Negotiation is critical with a hostage situation. We've hooked the land line to a tracer, recorder, and at least six laptops designed to register different aspects of the call. The unsub's tone, word choice, background noise, etc.

The unsub said he'd call again at 4:00 this afternoon and he expected the money to be ready.

We have an hour to prepare.

I'm in a seat at the table, three laptops surrounding me, when a teenage girl enters the room. She looks exactly like Trish Davenport. Same blonde hair, same blue eyes, maybe an inch taller. Trish's twin sister. She makes a beeline for us but Davenport stops her.

"Honey, let them work," he says sternly.

"Please, Dad, let me help. I know Trish better than anyone," the girl begs. I can tell they've discussed this before.

Davenport is about to tell her no when Elle interrupts.

"You must be Emma." She directs her attention to the girl.

Emma breaks away from her father and walks towards us.

"Yeah. I can help. Trish and I... I know her better than anyone," she tells us again.

Elle and I exchange glances. "What do you mean?" I urge.

"Look, I don't really know how to explain it, but... she's still alive. I know it." Emma stands straight, confidence in her words.

"Studies show twins actually have one of the closest mental relationships, even when separated they can sense each other's presence and emotions," Reid informs us from his seat, his legs criss crossed in front of him.

I look at Elle, silent understanding passing between us. She takes Emma to the table while I go to convince Davenport to let her help.

"Mr. Davenport." I keep my voice steady. "I know you don't want to endanger Emma. But we have a better chance of finding Trish with her help."

"Keep her safe." He doesn't pull his eyes from his daughter.

"We will."

He finally looks at me. "Promise. Promise me you'll keep her safe. I can't lose both of them."

His green eyes burn into mine. We never promise victims' families anything. Because something could always go wrong.

"I promise."