Lockdown

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

24/06/2019. 17:03 hours. FBI Offices, Quantico, Virginia.

Emily settled behind her desk with her umpteenth mug of coffee. Her wrist ached from the never-ending stacks of reports on her desk. For all she had worked relentlessly, the pile did not seem to shrink. She suddenly had a new appreciation for Hotch and everything he did for the team. She understood why Haley was unable to cope with it anymore. She missed the days of slipping her files into Spencer's pile. A pinging noise sounded on her computer, attracting Emily's attention. She brought the navy blue Department of Justice mug to her lips and sipped the steaming hot beverage as she opened the new unread email. Her brows pinched together at the link in the email, apparently sent from an unknown sender. She set her mug down on her desk, in the faded circle in the varnish from all of the other times she had put it there, and dialled a number, putting it on speaker.

"You have reached the office of supreme genius! Speak and be dazzled!" came Penelope's chirpy voice.

"Hey, Garcia. I've just gotten a weird link in an email from an unknown sender. Could you trace it for me?" Penelope audibly scoffed.

"Can I? My sweet, sweet lady! Of course I can. Just give me a hot second." The sound of rapid-fire clicking came through the speaker. "It's bouncing through multiple proxy servers. However, the link looks like it's from the Department of Corrections." Emily's frown deepened.

"I'll gather everyone in the conference room. I think we need to see what's on this."

"Be right there, my liege." Emily grabbed her mug and swiftly exited her office. She cast her deep brown eyes over her team in the bullpen.

"Everyone! Round table!" She turned on her heel and paced across the platform to the conference room, her heels tapping rhythmically against the wood.

Emily was met with grumbles from her team mates at the prospect of a new case right at the end of their working day as they shuffled into the room and took a seat at the table. She understood their disdain. They all looked weary. David Rossi drummed his fingers against the table in frustration. Penelope trotted into the room on blue wedges that were much too high for comfortable wear, and her laptop tightly grasped between her hands. She set it down on the table next to David. Emily sighed and grabbed the matte grey remote from the table. She pressed a button, and the TV monitor flickered to life, revealing her most recent email and the link.

"This had better be good, Emily. I have a twenty-five year old single malt Scotch waiting for me at home," sighed David.

"I'm sorry, guys. I just got this email. I had Garcia track it, and it's bouncing off multiple proxy servers. However, it appears to be from the Department of Corrections." Dr Tara Lewis sat up straight in her chair, her brow furrowed.

"Why would the DoC send you footage?" asked Tara.

"I don't know, but we're about to find out." Emily gave a nod to Penelope, who clicked on the link. A separate window opened up on the screen, showing grainy security footage of a small prison wing. A figure lay on their back in the centre of the recreation area. It was difficult to ascertain who it was, but it certainly did not look like any inmate or correctional officer.

"Garcia, can you zoom in on the person?" asked Luke Alvez. Penelope nodded again and zoomed in on the figure. The room fell into a deathly silence as they noticed the long, thick waves of chestnut hair, the frightened hazel pools, and the colourful mismatched socks. His hands were pinned behind his back, and his legs had been restrained at the ankles and the knees with belts. A thick, black cloth was firmly wedged between his teeth and tied tightly around his head. A heavy-set man in an orange jumpsuit stalked his way over to the bound man.