❝ you're the best of us. ❞
in which the ex-agent with a therapy license decides to get back in the game.
CRIMINAL MINDS SEASON 4
OC X AARON HOTCHNER
TRIGGER WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND ISSUES SURROUND...
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FIVE. SELA
"HE'S NOT TAKING IT EASY ON YOU, THAT'S FOR SURE," DEREK CHUCKLED. He and Daisy walked side by side into the prison that housed the Angel Maker until his death, the latter not particularly thrilled with what Hotch had assigned her.
"Was he like this with everyone when they started?" she asked as they removed their guns and phones and handed them over for security inspection. The man in question was Hotch, who had sent her to do some digging in the dead man's past with Morgan keeping an eye on her.
"Only with Prentiss," Derek responded, patting her on the shoulder as an act of comfort. Both of them knew that there wasn't much he could do about Hotch's hostility. "If it makes you feel any better, the rest of the team think you're pretty cool."
"Oh yeah?"
The prison guard they were meeting with came into view, and Derek glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "Anyone who isn't scared to argue with Erin Strauss belongs in the BAU."
Daisy couldn't resist the smile that spread across her cheeks. She hoped her colleague didn't see it, but she was fairly certain he did.
The guard introduced himself as Rutledge, and led them to one of the evidence rooms in the prison. They had prepared what was left of the Angel Maker's belongings for their arrival, so it didn't take long for them to dive right in.
"Ryan didn't have any next of kin, so after the execution, all of his effects got boxed and stored," Rutledge explained as another guard placed one of the boxes on the table.
"This is everything?" Daisy asked with furrowed brows, opening the box and peering inside. "All his correspondence?"
"Copies, at least," Rutledge replied as the agents sifted through the content. "Helps the warden keep tabs on certain prisoners if he can know what's in their mail."
"There's a lot of letters," Derek noted, picking up a pile of discarded paper.
"A lot of fans," Rutledge said with a shrug. "Real lady killer."
"Good one," Daisy muttered sarcastically, flicking through various drawings and fan art of the murderer.
"What about male fans?" Derek asked.
"Some, yeah," Rutledge nodded. "Freaks. This one kid would come by. Musician, I think. Black clothes and eyeliner and all that. He sent Ryan his demo tape and some sheet music he wrote in his own blood."
Daisy pulled a face. Nasty.
"Did you ever catch Ryan trying to smuggle anything out to this kid or anyone else?"
Rutledge made a 'hmph' sound. "Usual problem we have is stuff being smuggled in, not out."
Daisy peered across at the photos of young women Derek held - fans of the serial killer. "His DNA was found at a fresh crime scene in Lower Canaan."
