FBI Damsel: Foreign Affairs

Twenty-Two: Moore is Better

Kids.  Why were there always kids?  They never seemed to find an endless range of those who give birth, then manage to create nothing but a life of chaos and anger and pain and sadness for their supposedly “cherished” little ones.  It’s always the innocent ones.  The pure.  The ones who don’t deserve anything less than happiness that get the worst of their parent’s grievances.

“Simone.”

Her head snapped up.  “I’m fine.”

“No, no you’re not,” Parker argued.

“Vaughn said he wants us to keep an eye on you during this entire investigation.  You’re not going to let another one go because you ‘accidentally’ shot the perp,” Eddie said.

“He was a serial RAPIST!!!” she exclaimed.  “And he didn’t go free!  He only got one charge dropped and is still going to stay in jail until he’s eighty-something.”

“It doesn’t make a difference.”

“You’re with us, no matter what you say,” Eddie grinned.  He laced one arm through hers, Parker doing the same on the other side.

“Where are we going?  The house is that way!  We’re supposed to interrogate the father!” she asked.

“No, Valerie and Mitch are working on that.  In the meantime, the three of us are going to investigate the garage.”

“Why?”

Parker rolled his eyes.  “Don’t you read the packets of info you give us?  That’s where they were last seen!”

Across the driveway Mitch and Valerie were admitted into the house.  It wasn’t normal for them to get these kinds of cases, but this one was different.  And not just because they were the grandkids of one of the Supreme Court justices, either.

“When did your youngest go missing?” Valerie asked.

The father wiped away tear-snot.  “Um, I believe it was March.  He was the first to go.  My little girl, Tracy, she was taken in June.  After that we realized it wasn’t a coincidence and put a heavy guard over my other son.  But, somehow, he was still kidnapped!”

“Do you have any enemies?” Mitch asked.

“I’m a pharmacist,” he scoffed.  Mitch looked towards Valerie, to see if that was a valid answer.  She shrugged.

“Sir, we need to know.  Do you have anyone that may have you on a hate list?”

“I don’t know!  I have hundreds of customers every week!  Do you really expect me to remember them all?!” he exclaimed.

Valerie dropped her notepad.  “Okay, you’re right.  What we’re thinking of is someone who may have been violent towards you or any of your staff within the last… month or so?”

“No, I’m sorry but I’m not aware of anyone like that.  Now, can you kids get out of my way so I can try and calm my wife?” he pushed past the agents to get to the totally unfazed woman by the front door.  She had been talking with Victoria and Vaughn, constantly rolling her eyes and keeping her arms crossed.

“Here’s a quick lesson, Mitch.  If someone keeps their arms crossed, it’s a signal that they refuse to listen or participate or believe anything in which they’re being told.  That’s why you’re pretty much doomed if you cross your arms in front of Helena,” Valerie explained.

Mitch smirked.  “You’re doomed if you say pretty much anything in front of her.”

“Who?” The sound of stilettos resounded throughout the wooden house.  Those all-too-familiar black Jimmy Choo’s that sent nervous chills down the spine of the little worker bee’s in the BAU.  Mitch turned, a half-smile on his face.