CHAPTER FIVE
She hadn’t protested when Hotch had assigned her victimology. She rarely ever complained and this time, she was simply too exhausted. And she felt a little awkward. She’d completely broken down on him, staining his shirt with her tears. It was embarrassing, really, to fall apart on him. Derek would tease her about it, sure, but he’d keep it quiet. No one would have to know her moment of weakness, just like no one had to know he had to sleep with every door closed. He slept light enough to hear even the slightest movement.
But no. Her body had decided instead to tear itself apart when no one but her supervisor was there. And he’d done nothing but pull her into his arms and hold on tight. It was absolutely terrifying. She’d woken in the morning, cuddled tightly beneath her sheets, tucked in. Hotch was gone, but she still remembered crying on him. She’d been horribly embarrassed to find she’d cried herself to sleep on his shoulder, her hands clenched in his shirt. He’d driven her over the edge and, much to her surprise, she wasn’t all that upset about it.
That didn’t mean she was comfortable with it. She wasn’t. At all. She preferred the Emily Prentiss he’d known before last night, the woman who could take anything and bounce back from it without a problem. She preferred that he still see her as the fighter, the strong woman that had made it in the ‘boys club’ of the FBI. Putting her in the precinct wasn’t helping her feel any better about it either. She would have felt more confident had he assigned her to interview, to go about-
“Agent Prentiss?”
Emily looked up with an elegantly arched eyebrow.
“Agent Sheldon’s team is here.”
Emily wrinkled her brow, sure that someone had gone out to interview them at their office. Still, there was no reason to be rude. “Send them in,” she requested, pulling out her phone. She quickly shot Hotch a text.
“Holy shit.”
Emily’s head shot up, startled, as she met the eyes of the first agent through the door.
“Oh, my apologies ma’am,” the agent immediately apologized. “You-“
“You could be Laur’s doppelganger,” interrupted the agent behind him.
Emily sighed. “So I’m told. Come in gentlemen, have a seat. I’m Agent Prentiss, BAU.”
Three men filed in, introducing themselves as Agents Wilde, Lucia and Heitman. Emily couldn’t imagine what they were going through and coming in to be interviewed by her probably wasn’t helping much. “What can you tell me about Agent Sheldon?”
“She was damned good at her job,” Heitman said, running a hand through brown curly hair. “Laur was quick, smart. Got me out of a few tough situations.”
“A few, Luke? Shelly saved your ass more times than we can all count. And I wasn’t even on the team that long ma’am,” Lucia, sharp green eyes fixed on her.
“Shelly?”
“Sheldon.”
Emily’s eyes flicked to the last agent, Wilde, He simply looked quieter, softer spoken than his two counterparts and she could see it in the way he held himself. It looked to her like he was taking this the hardest.
“Laur wanted to be taken seriously and she was. She and I started working together in the Bureau as rookies. We grew up together, in a way. I was floored when my orders came and she was my unit chief, but she deserved it. She worked hard for that position.”
Now it made sense. “Was there anyone-“
“Other than the guys she was responsible for putting away no. Maybe a couple of women below her, but ma’am, it’s nothing new.”
Emily nodded. “How about men, other agents? Were there people who resented how far she’d risen?”
“Snide marks, maybe, but nothing new.”
She understood. “Never any threats?”
“Nothing explicit. It didn’t take much to fall in love with Laur though, metaphorically speaking,” Heitman said. “She was good at her job and it’s hard to resent someone rising so far in the ranks when they’re good at what they do. It just takes time to get used to it.”
“Anybody in her life that you know of?”
“No ma’am,” Wilde spoke. “Laur was married to her job, worked harder than anyone I’d met. There was a reason she was promoted.”
Emily sighed. They were getting nowhere. “What about places she frequented?”
All three men smiled almost simultaneously. “Carthey’s.”
“I’m sorry?” Emily asked, the corners of her mouth tilting up.
“It’s a diner, ma’am. Shelly loved the place,” Lucia explained. “We ate there definitely weekly, had our briefings there over breakfast. She was addicted to the waffles.”
Emily jotted the name down on her file on Lauren Sheldon. “Can you think of anything else?”
“In all honesty, ma’am, it’s still a little bit of a shock,” Wilde said. “Women are rising more and more in the Bureau and they’re all good at what they do. Look at you. Behavioural Analysis is no small cookies.”
Emily felt herself blushing but nodded. It warmed her heart to know that there were men out there that admired women who worked jobs like theirs. “Thank you.” She jotted down a number on a piece of paper. “This is the tip line our communications liaison has set up from Quantico. If you think of anything else, call the line and ask for Agent Jareau. Or you can come here.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t be more help,” Heitman said regretfully.
“We don’t know that yet,” Emily tried to reassure him.
Wilde was the last one to leave, and he turned back in the doorway. “Be careful ma’am. I’ve been watching the news, I’ve seen the pictures of the other victims. They all looked like Lauren. You look like Lauren.”
Emily almost jolted. “I’m being careful, Agent Wilde. Thank you.”
He nodded and left.
They sat around the table in the same diner they had the previous night, this time with their interview notes. Emily was once again sandwiched between Hotch and Reid and once again, hyper aware of her supervisor beside her. She couldn’t get the previous night out of her head and now, since she’d decidedly and determinedly set her embarrassment aside, her brain had focused on other things. Like how strong her felt around her.
Emily wished she could slap herself in the head. There had to be a rational explanation as to why she was so aware of the man beside her. And it definitely couldn’t be what Garcia and JJ had sworn up and down
“Of course you’re aware of him, Em,” JJ said glancing at her friend over the rim of her tea mug. Garcia had stepped out to refill her own beverage leaving JJ to answer the webcam link to the team. “You should be with how much he watches you.”
“What?” Emily asked in absolute confusion. “Watches me?”
“You haven’t noticed?”
“Well, we’re friends-“
“I’m not talking friend, Em. You didn’t see him on the other end of that wire in Colorado, okay? We did, well I did. Dave and Derek were too busy listening.”
“JJ, in English.”
“He looked completely torn apart listening to you on the other end of that wire. And the last time I can remember him curling in on himself like he did after that was when Haley had left.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. We were friends, he was worried.”
“He was worried about you.”
“Who was?” Garcia had returned.
“Hotch. Worried about Em.”
“Well of course,” Garcia agreed dropping down into the other chair. “He’s finally realized she’s right in front of his nose and the perfect way to get over his ex-wife.”
“Garcia! I’m not a rebound.”
“Oh please, you think Hotch could do a rebound? Not a chance. That man was meant to be intense and passionate,” Garcia replied, waving off Emily’s thoughts. “You wouldn’t be a rebound, honey, but let me tell you, if I got the chance, I’d definitely take it.”
“What about Kevin?” Emily asked, hoping to deflect attention.
“Ever heard the phrase window shop but buy at home? And with our team, window shopping is frequent,” Garcia answered.
“We’re getting off track. Em’s freaking out because Hotch is making her all hot and bothered,” JJ interrupted.
“About time he did too. I was starting to wonder if you really were a hot-blooded woman,” Garcia responded.
“You too?” Emily groaned. “Look, I admit, there have been weird looks lately-“
“And he makes sure to sit beside you whenever he can. And he still stayed to check on you last night, by your own admission, even after Derek left. And you’re all upset that he’s put you on victimology two days in a row when really all he’s trying to do is protect you,” JJ said, wrinkling her nose as she looked down at a broken nail. She hated rough edges.
“You’re all overanalyzing this,” Emily protested.
“Well, at least be honest and admit you are hot and bothered for him, his own feeling aside,” Garcia said, her gaze on a different computer screen as she typed a few things in. Their search was still going.
“He’s my boss.”
“Uh huh,” Garcia agreed as if it was a simple statement of fact and didn’t have the underlying connotations.
“I can’t.”
JJ rolled her eyes. “You won’t. There’s a difference.”
“He’s my boss. I’m pretty sure that makes it a can’t.”
“Hotch plays it close to the vest,” Garcia said, before JJ and Emily could argue the minutest point. “You’ll never believe us until his tongue is in your mouth.”
“Garcia! I don’t have headphones in!”
“Yeah, but the door’s closed. None of you are taking any chances with your life, Agent Prentiss.”
Emily sighed. “Which is why I’m stuck working victimology. I’m sick of them hovering.”
“Tell me about it,” Garcia agreed. “Now, here’s my preliminary findings from the cross reference-“
But Emily disagreed. Regardless of her apparently growing feelings for Hotch, he definitely didn’t feel the same way. She was Haley’s opposite, Kate’s opposite and from that she’d gleaned he had a type anyway. She didn’t match it.
“Em?”
Emily shook her head, meeting Derek’s eyes. “Sorry, what?”
“Anything from the victims?” Hotch asked intently, quietly, his eyes fixing on hers again.
“Um… not really,” she said, flipping the pages in her file. “A couple of them used the same drycleaner, two used exactly the same ATM machine at a corner bank nearby their offices, they all supported some sort of charity but none in the same area… Garcia’s still looking.” Part of her felt bad that they had nothing more to go on. She flipped the file closed as their meals came. She started to smile her thanks, but froze. She recognized the waiter as the one that had been watching her the previous night. Luckily for her, no one said anything, though Derek shot her a concerned look. Hotch inched slightly closer.
Emily couldn’t take her eyes off of the man. Something just seemed off about him, though he definitely wasn’t the first person that had given her the willies. She just hadn’t been prepared for this one, that was all. She knew she'd been more on edge lately, a side effect of being in the compound. She was more aware of the people around her, often protecting herself more than she had to. So it was normal for her to freak out at a gaze as intense as the waiter's had been. It was understandable and justifiable that she'd react to someone watching her closely. That was all.
That had to be all.