The Element of Surprise

Birthright - Part 2

I let him lead me outside to our SUV parked on the sidewalk. To my surprise, he opens the door to the driver's seat for me to get into, thus giving me full access to the steering wheel. Once he got into the passenger seat, I start the engine and turn into the street.

"Okay, so what did Garcia find?" I ask while following the directions he gave me.

"In 1979, our unsub kidnapped and raped a teenage girl," he replies, "But she escaped and that address I gave you, that's where she lives today."

"And you want me to talk to her," I automatically assume since this case is so sensitive.

"With everything that woman's been through," he breathes, "you might just be the only one can talk to her."

On the way to this woman's house, my brain's working over time - which is a good thing since it prevents me from thinking about the older man next to me. It's likely that this woman could've been our unsub's first, his rehearsal stage. He was still figuring out who and where to hunt, what worked and what didn't. He might have had planned this carefully only for her to escape and survive. From there, he never made a mistake again. It still doesn't explain why he's been dormant for almost thirty years now, but I have a feeling we'll find out soon.

The drive lasted around ten minutes before we arrived at the house. No one is home, so I park a few houses down to wait for someone to pull into the driveway. At first, there is a peaceful silence between the senior agent and I.

But that ends the moment he turns in his seat to face me, "What were you doing outside?"

"Hmm, what?"

'Way to go sounding convincing.'

"At the station," he clarifies, "You weren't in the bullpen so I went looking for you - and found you coming from outside."

"So, am I not allowed to step out for some fresh air?" I jump to defense and cross my arms, "Have you smelled that station? It's cigarette smoke, sweat, and beard dust wherever you go. It's enough to give me nasal cancer."

Rossi blinks before frowning, "Beard dust?"

I shudder, "Eegh... I just hate big, bushy beards. Can you imagine everything that catches in it? Crumbs, applesauce, beer, milk..." Imagining the sour smell of milk stuck in a beard, I shudder again, "Every time my grandfather wanted to kiss me goodnight, I would nearly throw out my neck to avoid his beard. It always smelled of smoke and prunes."

"So you don't like beards?"

"No," my eyes grow upon realizing that he has facial himself, "I mean yes. No, I don't like beards, but that doesn't... not that yours... technically that's a goatee... which handsome make you... I mean, which makes you look han-- I mean, it doesn't smell like smoke and milk... my point is, I went outside to get away from the beards."

He opens his mouth to respond but I'm saved by a car pulling into our survivor's driveway. Without waiting for him to speak or follow, I get out of the car and march towards the woman taking groceries out of her trunk.

"Ms Foley?" I catch her attention and show her my badge, "I'm Estella Presley and this is David Rossi. We're from the FBI. Do you have a minute?"

Instantly, she tenses up, "FBI?"

"We're investigating the murders of two women and the abduction of a third in Fredericksburg. Have you heard of it?" I keep my voice soft and even as to not scare her off.

"Y-yes," she nods, "It's awful."

"We think it may be related to what happened to you in 1979," Rossi speaks out - softly, might I add, "Your abduction."