Emily's POV
"I know we were having some fun, but hold your breakfast," Garcia says, pointing her remote at the board. "In Michigan, five females—Jacy Scott, Maria Shannon, Kelly Carioga, Madeline James, and Christine Anderson—all white females with brown hair and blue eyes were found stabbed ten times in a circular motion around the womb," she says, clicking to the next slide. "Medical examiner places all their deaths within a week." The screen displays images of five women with deep puncture wounds.
"A brunette with blue eyes. That's a specific type," JJ remarks, flipping through case files.
"A surrogate for someone," Morgan adds.
"The percentage of people with blue eyes is already eight to ten percent worldwide, but with brunette hair, that statistic drops to about three to five percent. Michigan itself has approximately 8.7 million people, with a majority being brunette Caucasians," everyone turns to Reid, who mutters "what" under his breath. We chuckle softly and continue briefing.
"Probably for a parental figure, maybe a mother or a girlfriend?" I suggest, studying the distinctive wound pattern around the wombs. "And what's with the ten?"
"I was getting to that." Garcia clicks the remote again, showing a zoomed-in image of a woman's stomach. "The medical examiner found no signs of struggle, but the cause of death is asphyxiation."
We exchange glances. "Does that mean they complied with this?" JJ asks, her hand on her stomach. "Tox-screen reports show no signs of drugs."
"Well, they only screen for known drugs like morphine, heroin, and Adderall," Rossi adds.
"He's killing these women methodically; we're dealing with a spree killer. Wheels up in twenty," Hotch announces, exiting the room.
Jessie's POV
"Now, we have some solo tryouts. Two spots and ten dancers, but I've narrowed it down to three: Ava, Emma, and Jessie," Ms. Thomas announces. The other girls eye each other like blood-thirsty animals. "Calm down, girls! Ava, Emma, and Jessie, please step forward." She claps, but the rest of the girls remain quiet.
My heart sinks as I hear my name. I can feel their stares; they're ruthless. "Stand up, girls," Ms. Thomas instructs, guiding us to the center of the stage. We line up, avoiding eye contact.
"You have until Sunday to prepare a freestyle dance for the competition," she continues. "The rest of the class will be dedicated to practice and stretching." With that, she dismisses us.
I head to the bathroom to change and check my phone—one missed call from Mom. I retreat to a private stall and call her back, putting it on speaker.
"Mom?"
"Hi, Jessie. I hope I'm not interrupting?"
"No, it's fine. We're just rehearsing and stretching," I reply, changing into my dancewear.
"I was thinking, after your dance class, Penelope could pick you up and take you to the BAU."
"That would be great. I have a shot at the solo for the competition," I say, pulling off my joggers and sweater.
"That's fantastic! You can tell me all about it later; my connection's about to drop," Mom says hurriedly.
"Sure, bye, Mom." I hang up and pack my bag, checking my reflection in the mirror. Every inch of my imperfections stands out. Why couldn't I blend into the background? Unseen and unknown.
I head to my locker to stash my bag when something falls out—a burger. Tears well up. "Stay calm," I whisper to myself, scanning the area. Everyone's gone. "Stay calm."
Emily's POV
"Emily and Morgan, head to the dumpsite. Rossi and Reid, go to the medical examiners. JJ and I will meet with the families and set up at the station."
The dumpsite is cluttered, rocky, and uncomfortably cold.
"Who dumps a body on a hiking trail?" Morgan grumbles, kicking dirt off his shoes.
"Someone with too much time on their hands," I respond as we continue along the trail, searching for any additional evidence.
"She's a teen, you know," Morgan comments, keeping the conversation going.
"Don't remind me," I chuckle, inspecting the ground.
"Boys and gossip," he smirks, walking beside me. I forge ahead.
"Jessie's not like other teens," I remark.
"We'll see about that," Morgan laughs as we walk deeper into the trail. The scent reminds me of my grandpa's cabin. I kneel down, sifting through the dirt. I hit something solid. Another body. "I've got a body here," I call out.
"Same here," Derek responds, scanning the area. "Looks like we've found another dump site."
Jessie's POV
I exit the building, heading towards the metro station. Fat-shamed on my birthday, just great. I dial Penelope's number; it rings.
"Penelope Garcia, at your service!" she chirps.
I swallow my tears and speak. "Hi, Penelope, are you still picking me up later?"
"Of course! While they're busy, we'll have a little BAU sleepover! Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I just finished dance. Could you give me a couple of hours? I'm about to hop on the train," I explain, entering the alleyway for a shortcut.
"Okay, bye!" Penelope hangs up abruptly.
The alleyway isn't far, but I hurry. "Hi, Jessie," a voice calls from behind. I glance back, seeing a man in his thirties with a muscular build. I quicken my pace. I hear him follow, struggling to find my pepper spray. My bag drops; I bend down, our hands touch. I scream as he covers my mouth. "Quiet," he warns, poking me with something. Darkness envelops me briefly; when I come to, tears flow.
"Please, let me go! You've got the wrong person," I plead, tears streaming down.
"No, I don't," he asserts, pushing me into his car. My belongings scatter; my body feels weak. The windows are tinted; the locks removed. No way out.
"You're Jessie. You dance every Wednesday and sometimes Saturdays," he says, driving faster.
A thud from the back; I turn to see another girl. She's not scared, at least not of him. Not fighting; crying for me.
YOU ARE READING
the girl who lost things
Fanfictionjessie is trying to adapt to her life as a daughter of the bau after her mother gets a job there. She finally wants a normal life after everything that happened when she was younger. but, her secrets can only stay hidden for so long. this is a crimi...
