"When we touch down in Harrisburg, JJ and Morgan, go examine the abduction site. Reid and Prentiss, I need you two to go examine the body. Rossi, Y/l/n and I will go to the station and talk to the witness. Garcia, you're coming with us to set up at the station." Hotch leans forward in his seat.
"The victim's name is Melissa Greene, correct?" You ask, glancing down at the tablet in front of you again.
"Correct. She has a husband and a sister, Victoria, that live in the area. Her husband is a lawyer—so they're upper class," Hotch explains.
"Gotcha."
You lean back in your seat, fiddling with your wedding ring absent-mindedly. It's become a nervous habit of yours—one Spencer notices. He grabs your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.
"I know you're nervous, but it'll be okay," he mumbles in your ear, giving your temple a soft kiss.
You turn toward him, sighing. "I know. What if we can't narrow down a location? What if we can't find him and he just keeps killing again?"
"Y/n," Spencer says, holding your gaze. "We will find him. I promise. Okay?"
You nod, exhaling deeply. "Okay."
The plane touches down minutes after that, each member of the team getting in their respective SUVs. You, Hotch, Rossi, and Garcia head to the station, driving up the interstate to downtown. Harrisburg is pretty big—you almost forgot Hershey Park is a few miles from it. Hotch parks the SUV outside of the station, and you all pile out of the vehicle and into the station.
"You must be the FBI agents." A tall man with a tuff of straight, red hair comes over to you all, a smile on his face. "Welcome to Harrisburg. I'm Sherriff Yates."
Hotch nods. "I'm Agent Hotchner. These are Agents Rossi and Y/l/n, and our tech analyst Penelope Garcia." Yates nods at all of us. "Garcia is going to get set up, could you show her where?"
"Of course," Yates says. He scowls. "This murder has torn up the town, especially because it's a rich lady. Everyone's scared."
You nod. "We understand. We're going to do everything we can to help you guys out and try to find this man." Your stomach turns. This man, aka your fucking father.
Yates gives an appreciative nod. "The witness, Eddie Garner, is sitting in one of the offices. He's pretty shaken up."
Rossi nods. "Perfect. Thank you."
Yates leads Garcia away and another officer leads the three of you into a small office. Eddie, a young man dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a button up, sits nervous at a table. He has a black eye.
Hotch sits in the middle, you and Rossi sitting on either side of him. Hotch gives him a sympathetic smile, folding his hands in front of him.
"Hello, I'm Agent Hotchner with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a couple questions about what you saw the night you saw Melissa get abducted if that's alright," Hotch says softly.
Eddie nods. "Of course."
"Where were you when you saw the abduction take place?" Rossi asks, tilting his head.
The young man swallows, leaning forward in his seat slightly. "I was at the gym. I know Melissa from the gym—we've both been going there for a couple of years. We always park down the block and race to see who can get to the building the fastest and we always went at night." He's quiet for a moment. "After our workout, she left a couple of minutes before me. I, um, I was walking down the block to my car when I saw Melissa struggling with a man."
"But it was dark, how could you have gotten close enough to see his face clearly?" You ask, furrowing your brow.
Eddie shifts in his seat. "I actually ran up to help stop him—I was going to attack him. He had one arm around Melissa, and I remember yelling for him to stop." His voice is thick, like he's about to start crying. "He turned toward me—and that's when I saw his face. I tried, b-but I guess I wasn't strong enough. He punched me so hard I fell down and all I remember hearing is Melissa screaming as he dragged her away."
You clench your jaw, inhaling deeply. "This isn't your fault, Eddie."
Eddie shakes his head. "Maybe if I left with her o-or was stronger, I could've helped her."
Hotch looks at him, his gaze soothing. "Eddie, there's nothing you could have done. This isn't your fault."
"Did you happen to see what kind of car the man was driving?" Rossi asks.
Eddie bites his bottom lip, thinking. "I didn't get a good look before he punched me—but after hitting the ground, I remember seeing a black minivan. It was blurry but I know it was black."
"Was it a Honda Odyssey?" You ask, leaning forward in your seat.
"I-I don't know, it could have been. I didn't get a good look. I'm sorry," Eddie whispers, his voice breaking a little.
"It's okay, Eddie. Thank you for your time." Hotch stands, and you and Rossi follow suit, following him out of the office.
The three of you go to Garcia. She's finished setting up—her two computer screens active and ready to go. She smiles when you guys enter the room, twiddling her fuzzy pink pen in her fingers.
"Please tell me I can do something to help," she says, her eyes flicking to you.
Hotch turns his head toward you. "Why did you suggest a Honda Odyssey?"
You rock back and forth on your heels slightly. "It was the car my dad owned when we were little. When we moved to Gatlinburg, I thought he got rid of it. He could still have it and be using it now. If he's as good of a serial killer as we think he is, there's no way he'd be using his regular car."
"Do you know what year the car is?"
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remember. "Uh...nineteen ninety-seven or eight, I think. It's an older model. It used to be registered under his name, but he could have it registered under God knows what now. Plus, he'd have different tags."
"Garcia, look up any black Honda Odyssey's that were bought in Blythewood from nineteen ninety-seven to nineteen ninety-eight. See if we can find the original vehicle Joseph had when he lived there. We may not have the plates, but if you find it, we'll have the VIN number. We can use that to find the plates."
"Say less, my liege."
While she's typing, you turn toward Hotch and Rossi. "My dad could be working with a partner. Or multiple partners. You heard Tyler—a lot of people owe him favors. We don't know how big this web extends, and that scares me." You shake your head. "I don't know who we can trust."
"I know," Hotch says. "We also have no idea when or where he's going to strike next."
"We need a map in here," you mutter. "We need to trace his kills, see if he's been going in a specific direction that past four years."
Rossi turns on his heels to go to Yates about a map, and Garcia's head whips up.
"So, normally searching car records takes time because everyone is always buying cars all the time. Thankfully, Blythewood is tiny, especially back in the nineties, and after searching records I came upon a nineteen ninety-seven black Honda Odyssey registered to Joseph Y/l/n." Garcia smiles proudly at you and Hotch. "Unfortunately, I didn't get any hits on the original plates, which means he either has stolen plates or after he left Blythewood the car was reregistered to someone else, therefore, new plates."
Hotch nods. "Does it say the car belongs to anyone now?"
Garcia types quickly. "Uh, yes, actually." As she reads, her voice gets slower, the realization hitting her. "Four years ago, the car was registered to someone named Hunter Garrison."
"Can you track the plates?"
After a moment, Garcia speaks up again. "The car is in Enola, Pennsylvania, which is only about ten miles from here."
"He had to have abandoned it," you say as Rossi comes back in with a big map, pinning it on the board. "There's no way he'd keep the car—especially after someone saw him drive away in it."
"Garcia, research all you can about Hunter Garrison. I want his life story."
"Your wish is my command, o' great king."
"Rossi, pin the locations of all the murders the past four years. Y/l/n and I are going to check out the car."
"You got it," Rossi says, opening his tablet.
You and Hotch turn to leave when you see Spencer and Prentiss approaching. Hotch raises his eyebrows.
"What did you guys find?"
"All of the torture on the victim was done before death," Spencer says. "Absolutely no marks were left post-mortem except the ring fingers being cut off. There was a distinct lack of blood flow to where the incisions were made. It's also like Joseph was in a hurry to get the fingers off as well—it was almost like they were half cut, half torn off."
"Jesus," you groan, your stomach flipping in the worst possible way.
"Other than that, victimology looks the same as it does on the other victims," Prentiss says, putting her hands on her hips.
"Good job. Go help Rossi, we're trying to see if there's a pattern in the murders to see if Joseph is traveling in a certain direction. We need to try to narrow down where he'll be next."
Prentiss and Spencer nod, Spencer giving you a quick kiss on the cheek as he walks by you. You and Hotch walk out to the SUV, and you climb into the passenger seat, pulling out your phone.
"Do you mind if I call Will? I just wanna make sure my kids are okay," you say, fiddling with your phone.
Hotch nods and you give him a thankful nod, dialing Will's number and putting the phone to your ear. After a couple rings, Will answers.
"Hey, Y/n," he says, a smile in his voice.
"Hey, Will," you say, smiling softly. "I hate to bother you, but—"
"But you wanna speak to your little ones. I understand." You hear him call Joseph over.
"Hi, mama!" Joseph says into the phone.
Tears prick in the corners of your eyes, your smile growing wider. "Hi, honey. How's everything at Uncle Will's?"
"It's good!" He says excitedly. "Me and Michael have played with all of his toys and tonight we get to watch Star Wars!"
"Ooh, which one?" You ask him, leaning your head back against the headrest. Hotch glances at you, a little smile on his face.
"The fifth one," Joseph answers. "That's daddy's favorite."
You laugh softly. "It is daddy's favorite. How's your sister?"
"She's good, too. Uncle Will holds her all the time. She cries a lot, but I think she just misses you, mama."
Your lower lip trembles, and you try to keep your voice as even as possible. "I miss both of you so much, big man. I know daddy does, too."
"I miss you, too, mama," he says into the phone.
You wipe a tear that escapes your eye, sniffing softly. "Okay, big man, go play with Michael. Give the phone back to Uncle Will. I love you, okay?"
"I love you, too, mama."
You hear him hand the phone back to Will, his voice filling the other end.
"How are things going?" He asks, his voice quiet.
"They're alright, Will. We're in Harrisburg now, but I don't know how long we'll be gone."
"Well, that's okay. You don't worry about us. We'll be fine."
You nod. "Thanks, Will. I'll call you in a couple days."
You hang up, shoving the phone back in your pocket.
"I know it's hard," Hotch says quietly.
"It is," you reply, staring out the window.
"We will find him, Y/n," Hotch whispers as the car slows.
You're silent as you unbuckle your seat belt. Getting out of the car, you stand on the side of the road, your eyes looking at the forgotten vehicle in front of you. You and Hotch approach carefully, guns drawn just in case. After clearing, you shove the gun back in the holster, looking at where you two are.
You're in the middle of nowhere, it seems like. Forest surrounds you on both sides, the Honda parked in the dirt on the side of the road. You and Hotch go to the SUV to put on some gloves, going to search the car.
"You search the trunk, I'll search the back," Hotch says.
You nod and open the trunk carefully. Small splatters of dried blood line the carpet of the trunk and you grimace. Something catches your eye and you grab it. A small piece of paper folded four times lies in your hand.
"Hotch."
He walks over to you and you hold up the paper.
I'm just getting started.
You look to Hotch, nostrils flaring. "Let's go back to the team."
You and Hotch race back, you practically slamming the car door when you exit the SUV. You try to keep your cool as you walk into the station, making your way to the small room where the team is, JJ and Morgan having returned from the abduction site.
"What's wrong?" Spencer asks, noticing the look on your face.
You slap the piece of paper down in front of them. "We found this in the trunk of the car."
The team reads the note and exchange glances with one another. Hotch looks at Rossi, crossing his arms in front of him.
"What do his murders say about him geographically?"
Rossi turns, looking at the map. "He started in Maine, and he's working his way south. I suspect he's traveling to Virginia next."
You turn to Hotch. "I want increased agents at Will's. If he's going to Virginia, he has a chance of finding me and Spencer's kids, Hotch."
"I'll contact the Bureau to see what they can do." He inhales deeply before turning to Garcia. "Did you find anything on Hunter Garrison?"
"Did I? You underestimate me, sugar." She looks at her screen. "Hunter Garrison was born in nineteen seventy-six, which makes him about twenty-five when Joseph left Blythewood. He was raised with an absent father and a mother who was addicted to heroin, so he had a great childhood—the mom died five years ago."
"So, a man raised with neglect and abuse," you mutter. 'Perfect."
"He's lived in Blythewood his entire life. Was a high school dropout, didn't go to college, works at a small hardware store in Blythewood."
You sigh, looking at Hotch. The two of you share a look, Morgan furrowing his brow.
"Why are you two looking at each other like that?"
"Because," Hotch says, looking at the team, "now we have to go to Blythewood."
"Great," you mutter, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I can't wait to go back to my childhood home."
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Author's Note
And off to Blytheville we go! Sorry this chapter didn't have very much Spencer in it. But I promise you'll get more of him soon!
Thank you all for the support on the sequel!! It literally means so much to me. I appreciate and love all of you so much.
Sorry my updated has been a little slow. School and the gym are kicking my ass.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! :)