Ch 1 Assignment
October 31
5:00 PM
1313 Slaughter Road
Squinting against a bright flash of lightning, Agent Donald Ressler blindly steered the car down a long, tree-lined drive.
“Who the hell would live this far out in the boondocks?” He grumbled distractedly.
“So... who are you supposed to be?” Agent Samar Navabi interrupted the man’s thoughts, gesturing to Ressler’s coat. “Fox Mulder or something?”
Ressler glanced down at his attire. “That would make you Dana Scully, if so... right?” He moved his shoulders about more comfortably in the stylish trench coat he sported this night.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in the clothes they make that woman wear.” Samar grimaced adorably. “Who are you kidding?”
“I wore this coat because it looked like rain.” Ressler defended himself, pointing to the approaching storm. “But even if that were the case...so what?” The guy chanced a quick glance at his partner. “He was FBI, you know.”
“You look nothing like the guy.” Samar smiled a malicious grin. “Is all I’m saying. He is so GQ, and you, on the other hand,” she took the opportunity to needle the man every chance she got these days. It made her life so much better, after all. “You are so...Columbo.”
“Yeah, and you’re a laugh a minute.” Ressler pulled a face, returning his attention to the road conditions. He also made a mental note, however, to go home and change his costume before Aram’s party.
“That’s because I have a wonderful sense of humor and you have none whatsoever.” Samar turned forward once more, pleased to have gotten a rise out of the guy. Ressler rolled his eyes, sighing heavily.
“Tell me again, why Elizabeth isn’t taking the lead on this call?” The dark-haired beauty clutched her door handle as Ressler eased down the road, treading dangerously close to a rocky ledge.
Sighing irritably, for visibility was nonexistent, the agent cursed his luck. “Where the hell did all this wind come from? It was clear on the freeway.” Ressler leaned closer to the windshield, hoping to see more of the road through the blowing leaves covering the darkened path he drove. “I’ve told you already...Liz isn’t an agent anymore. You know that.” Ressler reminded the woman of Liz’s flight from the law months back.
“We’re a classified branch of your FBI, one headed by a criminal informant.” Samar reminded the man needlessly if his expression was any criteria. “I think the rules in this instance should be brushed under the rug. It isn’t as if they haven’t done it to their advantage before... the higher ups.”
“I don’t think Keen should be allowed anywhere near the Blacksite, let alone assist us on cases.” Ressler wasn’t above stating his point of view. “Since her return after being on the run with Reddington, she has worked as an informant and not an agent.”
“I think you are forgetting one important fact,” Samar continued. “We would not be out here in any regard were it not for Liz.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Ressler evaded. “We do our job, like any other agent.”
“You damn well know what I mean.” Samar gave the man a cross look. “Without Elizabeth, Reddington has no interest. We would get assigned mundane crap...like any other agent.”
Ressler cleared his throat to avoid a response to the statement.
“In any case, this was Liz’s investigation to begin with,” she pointed out. “It should be hers now.”
“I know she profiled the case when with the BAU,” Ressler blinked as he was once more blinded by a bright flash from the approaching storm, “but that was then. This is now. Things change.”
“Not all things.” Samar grumbled, casting the man beside her a disgruntled look. “Some things are stuck in a rut where they begin to fester and eventually smell up the place with their decaying asshole opinions.”
Heaving a sigh, Ressler frowned at the woman beside him, but remained silent on the matter.
The man’s scowl deepened as they rounded a corner, coming upon the address they searched for.
“What the hell?” Ressler scanned the terrain, his brow furrowing critically.
“Well,” Samar sat upright, staring at the darkened surroundings, “these people aren’t much for curb appeal.”
A once stately mansion upon which the agents looked was overrun with bramble, brush, and debris. The outline of the grey stone facade framed in strobes of flickering light loomed moodily against the inky black sky like a menacing fortress.
“...Okay?” Ressler pulled up to the stone pillars standing guard on either side of the drive, peering at the creepy scene through the slits of an ornate iron gate.
“Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Samar enquired. The woman dug in her jacket, producing a penlight, peering at the post-it note in her hand. “No, this is the right place, damn it to hell.” She grinned over at the man beside her. “Spooky, huh?”
“Yeah...” Ressler drawled. “I’ll open the gate, I guess.”
Shifting more comfortably in her seat, Samar gave the man a pointed look, which said... yeah, you will.
Samar listened apathetically as Ressler cursed fluently when the stiff winds yanked the door from his fingers. She smiled happily as the man walked towards the head of the vehicle and the long, dark fabric of his coat wrapped about his legs, causing the man to stumble slightly as he pushed the heavy wrought-iron gate open.
Taking a few steps back towards the car, Ressler hung his head in defeat as the fierce winds pushed the gate closed once more with an unmistakable clang.
Chuckling her mirth, Samar slid over into the driver’s seat, inching the car forward as Ressler wrestled with the cumbersome blockade yet again.
Once through the obstacle, Ressler opened the driver-side door, looking expectantly at Samar.
“Seriously?” Samar scowled hard up at the man. “My butt is staying where it is, Mulder.”
Shifting his gaze outward over the roof, Ressler closed the door before making his way to the passenger side. He cut the woman a sour glance once back inside the car.
Inching along, Samar meandered her way up the driveway, which was barely visible through the overgrowth of weeds. “So, this is a verified tip through our hotline?”
Ressler sat, looking at the gloomy setting moodily. “Yeah...” He stared at the large picture window, with its eerily gauzy curtains and the gigantic candelabra blazing forth a subdued light.
“This is really on the up-and-up?” Samar voiced her disbelief, gesturing accordingly. “The Munsters live here, I just know it.”
“From what I understood,” Ressler pushed his door open, “this was supposedly the place where the murders occurred.”
“What do you mean, from what you understood?” Samar followed suit, exiting her side of the car, checking with the man over the hood. “You didn’t ask specifics?”
“The connection wasn’t the greatest.” Ressler explained, waving his hand about the rural location and the approaching storm. “Hello!”
“I meant,” Samar clipped her tone, walking towards the stone staircase, “we’re going into this thing blind as a bat, although...that seems somehow à propos here.” Her dark eyes cut to her surroundings before returning to her companion. “Liz likely has valuable intel on whatever went down here, Ressler.”
The man checked out his surroundings as well; the wind whipping the tails of his coat about haphazardly. “We’re here. We will get all the intel we need firsthand.”
“I know you don’t put much stock in profiling,” the woman sighed heavily, following the man up the steep steps of the entrance, holding firm to the rickety railing, “but you should remember how valuable Liz’s input was to our cases.”
“What about, since we’re here,” the man gestured to the front door, which they rapidly approached, “we just do our duty and ask a few pertinent questions.”
Knocking on said door, the agents waited for a response. Knocking again, Ressler looked over his shoulder, an eerie feeling traversing his body. He squelched the sensation determinedly.
Samar leaned, peering through the window to her left. “I always hate doing this.” She shared. “Couple times in the past, I had to duck a bullet or two.”
The man whipped his head back towards his partner when he heard the distinct sound of her weapon clearing the holster on her hip. He instinctively followed suit, his own gun up and ready in seconds.
“What?” he whispered urgently.
“There’s a man lying on the steps.” Samar murmured quietly, her head motioning inside the dark house. “I can see him.”
Aiming the gun more pronouncedly, Ressler cautiously turned the knob with his free hand.
The door swung open with a decided creak. The agents hesitated, both scanning the shadowy interior for threats before moving across the darkened foyer.
Ressler approached the fallen victim first, his eyes adjusting to the area, constantly scanning and re-scanning their surroundings for danger.
“Sir!” Ressler snapped quietly, feeling for any pulse on the man’s neck. “Can you hear me?”
Samar pivoted on the narrow stairs; her weapon trained. “Status...”
“He’s dead.” Ressler sighed, dropping his fingers away from the lifeless carotid. “Are you, uh... seeing what I’m seeing?” He motioned to the dead guy, but more so, the condition of the dead guy.
“Yep,” Samar confirmed before vigilantly returning her attention to their surroundings. “I’m seeing that.”
“This is weird, right?” Ressler gestured to the anomaly.
“For this place? I doubt it.” Samar kept her tone low and calm. “I’m assuming our tipster said nothing about this little development?” She grumbled.
Sighing, Ressler pushed up from his crouched position, cursing succinctly when his foot caught on the tails of his overcoat, unsettling his balance. “Shit!”
Reaching out rapidly, sensing the problem, Samar attempted to right the man’s precarious position a second too late.
“Oh, fuck!” Ressler grappled for a handhold as his foot slipped off the step.
Samar watched the man’s ankle bend at an awkward angle before he lurched out of reach, tumbling backwards in an uncontrolled fall.
“Ressler!” Samar hurried after the man, bouncing down the steps with agile grace.
Hitting the first floor with a pronounced thump, Ressler slid along the marble floor until smacking hard against an ornate chair. The antique wood crashed loudly against the wall behind it, halting Ressler’s slide in its tracks.
Samar ran to the man’s side, dropping to her knees. “Are you alright?” She gasped breathlessly, already feeling for any broken bones or damage.
“Yeah,” Ressler kinked his neck, grimacing, “I-I think so?” He stretched his body, groaning for the effort.
“Don’t move.” Samar instructed tightly.
“No,” Ressler got his hand beneath him, pushing to his elbow, “no, I’m okay...really.”
Slowly sitting upright with Samar’s help, Ressler took stock, shifting his body about.
“Everything seems to be functioning.” He breathed easier. “I think I’m good.”
Grabbing the chair, Ressler shifted to his knee before placing a foot beneath him. Pushing upright, the man set the other foot beneath him... crying out a curse as the pain shot up his thigh into his brain.
He hastily settled into the chair, his face a twisted mask of agony. “Damn...” Ressler whispered the realization. “It’s useless.” He stated flatly. “I don’t think it’s broken, though.”
“Did the dead guy push you?” Samar tried for lightness. “Come on, partner. It happens to the best of us. This damned house gives me the creeps. Let’s get out of Dodge.”
“You’re from another country, for God’s sake.” The man accepted her shoulder as support.
“How is it you know more American colloquialisms than I do?”
“Because I’ve dated more American guys than you, Mulder.”
Shoving his arm into his sleeve, Cooper reached, shutting down his desk light.
It had been a long-damned day. A discrete knock on his door caught the man’s attention. He looked up, his scowl altering into a welcoming smile. “Oh, uh, I didn’t expect you to be here this late, Elizabeth.”
Still unaccustomed to the man addressing her as anything other than Agent Keen, Liz grimaced slightly. Shaking the thoughts away, she refocused on the matter at hand.
“I didn’t either, sir.” Liz answered truthfully. “I was actually wondering, Agents Navabi and Ressler haven’t reported into you yet, have they?”
The man stole a glance at his watch. “It was a long drive, remember.”
“Yes, but...” Liz’s brow furrowed critically.
“Something wrong?” Cooper asked.
“No, I just wanted to be on hand, should they have questions or...” Liz shrugged any real concern away, but something was nagging at her psyche.
“They have your number,” Cooper reminded, offering the woman a small smile. “Go home, I’m sure they have all well in hand.” He chuckled lightly. “They are two of our best, right?”
“Do you have plans, sir?” Liz attempted a smile. “It’s a special night, after all.”
“Charlene and I have been invited to a costume party.” The man arched a wry brow. “God help me.” He quipped.
“That sounds like fun, sir.” Liz’s smile remained fixed.
“It sounds torturous,” Cooper laughed, pocketing his phone. “It will be nice, however, to get out of the house and enjoy a drink, and hopefully... a dance with the wife.”
“What are you going as, sir?” Liz asked politely.
“Martian Manhunter.” Cooper smiled as he grabbed his briefcase.
Liz looked at the man quizzically.
“DC Universe,” Cooper explained, receiving a blank look. “Batman, Superman?”
“Ah...” Liz nodded, though she really didn’t know the character at all. “Good choice, sir.”
Gesturing Elizabeth to proceed him, the man groaned disparagingly when the phone on his desk began to ring. He stopped in his tracks, glaring at the object morosely, but trudged back obediently.
“Figures...” he grumbled, grabbing the hard plastic in hand. “Yes, Director Cooper here.” The man cut to the chase in hopes of saving time, maybe clearing up any obstacles to his evening plans without too much hassle.
“Agent Navabi,” Cooper caught Liz’s attention.
Elizabeth hesitated in her intended exit; her attention suddenly riveted.
Cooper listened politely. “Do you need an ambulance?”
Gasping quietly, Liz stepped closer, her attention on the phone. Curving her hands into fists, she attempted to control her urge to rush to her partners’ assistance, if indeed, assistance was needed, and it sounded as if it were.
Pushing the button for the speakerphone, Cooper placed the receiver back in the cradle.
“You have him in the car.” Cooper nodded, jotting down the needed information.
“He’s bitchy, but we’re okay and on our way to Sibley.” Samar replied to the questions fired at her.
“Not GW?” The head man was confused.
“Sibley is closer, sir.”
“Oh, right.” He nodded. “I’m assuming you got to the address?”
“The tip was spot on, sir.” Ressler grimaced, for Samar was driving like a bat out of hell trying to get him to the hospital. “We have a DB on the premises and need someone to come sit on it until we can get a forensic team, or at least the coroner, to sign off on it.”
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Cooper directed his attention to the room below him, one of which was presently vacant of anyone except, Agent Carl McGavin who, for the lack of better description, was as green as a lime where his agent status was concerned.
In fact, he was so new to the game, Cooper wondered how the man was placed on such a task force to begin with. In the beginning, he believed the man to be a spy, but he hoped that was not the case as the man stuck out like a sore thumb. Quite frankly, the Director considered the young man as dumb as the proverbial rock.
Cooper watched the man trek his way across the war room and trip over an extension cord.
McGavin threw out his arms to catch himself, only he unsettled a file cabinet and tossed his coffee cup in the process.
Images of the man falling over the corpse and sullying the crime scene, and the court documents being aired on live tv stating an agent of the FBI was to blame for the mistrial of a serial killer... all made the ache in Cooper’s skull grow exponentially.
“That’s going to be a problem.” Cooper grimaced, rubbing his already throbbing temples.
“Well, we have to get Ressler to the ER,” Samar advised. “Sir, because no way in hell I’m sitting up all night with him bitching and moaning about the dead guy pushing him down the stairs.”
“Very funny, Navabi.” Ressler replied sardonically. “So, what do you advise, sir? We can get back out there in about an hour and a half if...”
Scratching irritably at his neck, Cooper shifted his attention to the phone, just catching sight of Elizabeth waiting off at his side. His mind clicked. “No...no, you can’t be on active duty with such an injury, agent, and you are aware of that rule, but...” he smiled amicably Elizabeth’s way. “Elizabeth, I know you aren’t exactly sanctioned...”
“You want me to babysit a dead body, sir?” Liz straightened, unsure whether to be flattered or insulted.
Cooper spread apologetic hands. “You know the proper protocol.”
Ressler cleared his throat, feeling it was entirely his fault this obvious breach of protocol was going down. “...Sir, I don’t think–”
“Yeah, Liz.” Samar interjected hastily, her tone faux bright and cheerful. She glared over at the man in the seat beside her, covering the phone with her hand. “Don’t they shoot lame horses out west?” She smiled sweetly. “If not...they should. Shut up!” She warned.
Ressler’s brows lifted high on his forehead, his mouth falling agape. But he shut up.
“Ressler said the body was still warm, so maybe you could get the ball rolling while the scene is still fresh before the forensic team arrives.” The lovely woman was all bright and cheery again. “That would be so great, wouldn’t it?”
“I-I guess I could?” Liz glanced once more towards Cooper, who had obviously heard what he wanted, for the man finished gathering his things.
“Then it’s all settled.” Cooper’s smile was bright and cheery. “Text her the address, and keep me apprised on Ressler’s condition, Agent Navabi.”
“Will do, sir. And thanks for the assist, Liz.” Samar severed the line as quickly as humanly possible.
“Oh.” A thought occurred to Ressler out of the silence in the car. “Maybe we should have warned her about...you know.”
Samar hesitated. “Oh...yeah.” She bit her lip. “Well, it’s not like she won’t notice right off, right? And the reception is iffy out here. I could hardly get anything Cooper was saying, you?”
“All I heard was that it was okay to go to the hospital.” Ressler grimaced. “Sorry I was such a klutz, Navabi.” He cut sincere eyes his partner’s way.
“It’s okay.” She smiled softly. “It’s not like I’m not used to it.” She chuckled at his sour expression, then concentrated on her driving.
Hooking Liz’s elbow, Cooper directed the woman out the office door before he closed and locked it behind him.
“I’ll call the forensics team on my way home,” Cooper said, “and relate the ETA as soon as I know it. Thanks for stepping up on this one, Elizabeth. You are a team player even when you aren’t officially on the team.”
“Uh, yes, sir.” Liz hastily grabbed her jacket and bag as Cooper continued to pull her along beside him. “Shouldn’t I take...” she gestured to Agent McGavin, the lone man on the floor, lowering her voice sotto voce.
“I don’t want to taint the scene more than it is.” Cooper shook his head, ushering the woman into the elevator. “You’ve done this a hundred times, nothing to it.”
Watching the door slide shut, obstructing the view of Director Cooper and Elizabeth Keen, McGavin sighed, offering a careless wave of his hand... knocking his coffee over in the process.
The young man stared bleakly at the spreading liquid.
Considering the holiday traffic and increasing darkened skies from the approaching storm, Liz was making better time than expected. She expected the drive to be a hellish one, but according to her GPS, she was a little less than fifteen minutes away from her destination.
Gripping the steering wheel, Liz fought against the rising wind, pushing her Mercedes towards the breakdown lane.
“Wow...” she righted the car, only to startle visibly, as a piercing bell jarred the silence.
Dividing her attention between the road and the wheel in hand, Liz located the inset phone button under her thumb, pressing it gingerly. She pressed again...and still again, but....
She cursed silently as a sharp beep indicated she missed the call.
Squinting against the bright headlights of oncoming traffic, Liz chanced a glance down at her hands just as the sound of the bell jangled through the interior of the car once again.
Tapping the button with her thumb, she spoke to the air around her. “Yes? Hello?”
“Lizzy...” Red’s warm voice filtered through the car.
“Was that you that just called?” Liz asked. “I’m in my car.”
“Yes,” Red chuckled. “Have I called at an inopportune time?”
“No...” she replied absently, glancing in her side mirror, “I’m just not used to the placement of the buttons just yet. I tried to get you on the first ring, really.”
“They should have the same placement as your old car.” Red shared a warm smile with Dembe as they listened to the woman’s difficulties.
“They’re offset to mine.” Liz replied sullenly. “By at least a sixteenth of an inch.” She continued with factual evidence to prove her point.
“I was unaware such a small measurement would account for such discord.” Red grinned.
“To a woman, an inch can mean a lot, you know.” Liz said, then flushed. “I mean...”
“...I see.” Red bit his inner cheek to control his amusement. Chortling quietly, he nodded knowingly. “We are still talking about the steering wheel, correct?”
“I think the Germans have it out for us...must be because they lost the war.” She hurried along.
Dembe glanced down at the steering wheel in his own hands, canting his head curiously.
Red’s smile widened when Dembe shrugged his confusion. “The buttons seem to be where they have always been, Elizabeth.”
“They are not.” Lizzy snipped. “Your car isn’t my car, Dembe. All cars are different, everybody knows that.”
“Of course, they are, sweetheart.” Red soothingly placated the woman.
“Why you bought this new car, when I just got used to my old one.” Liz was questioning the purchase even as she drove. “I had picked out a name for her and everything.”
“You needed an upgrade, sweetheart.” Red assured, his tone a calming one.
“The vehicle is equipped with bullet-resistant glass.” Dembe piped up helpfully...or did he?
“W-Why would I need bullet-resistant–”
“No reason, honey.” Red sent the man a glare. “I just wanted to get you a gift. I hope you like it.”
Did Red just call her... honey? Oh, not that she minded if he did. She had just never heard him say that before. She kind of liked it.
“Well, it’s a really cool gift as gifts go.” She had to admit. “It’s not every day a girl gets a car out of the blue.”
In fact, Red only purchased the car as the features he insisted upon allowed him to locate Elizabeth easily in an emergency.
It also aggravated him beyond belief Tom may have been in the other vehicle at some point or other. Besides, he hated the silvery white color.
“Get off my ass, you asshole!” Liz grated her derision for the tailgater behind her, whose lights were shining directly into her rear-view mirror. She slowly waved her hand, indicating the man should go around, a slow grin pulling at her mouth. “I’ll wipe that little Prius off the face of the planet with my big ass German tank if you don’t!”
Stifling his laughter, Red caught sight of Dembe’s twinkling eyes in the mirror. “Sweetheart, did you have a bad day?”
“Yeah...” she grumbled, giving the man now driving alongside her an evil glare, “and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”
“I was wondering if you were hungry... perhaps free for dinner?” Red enquired pleasantly, ignoring the woman’s low, and continued bitching at her fellow commuters. As was her way.
“I haven’t eaten anything but an English muffin with apple fig jam.” The woman disgusted. “Stupid fall flavors! It was like a twisted version of Fruit Cake!” She frowned hard, then canted her head slightly. “That sounds good right now.” She mused openly, her stomach rumbling at the thought of food.
“The situation seems very dire.” Dembe made remark, earning a quiet chortle from Raymond.
“I happened upon the quaintest little diner,” Red related, interrupting the woman in hopes of selling his proposal, “famous for its traditional southern cooking.”
While on the run, they spoke of a multitude of subjects, but one Red noticed most and paid particular attention to was... Lizzy’s appetite.
As the situation had been rather tense, whenever the opportunity presented itself, Red would entice Lizzy to share favorite meals. He hoped in doing so, it would whet her appetite, as her desire to eat had waned considerably.... as had her weight. It concerned him, even now, how skinny Lizzy appeared.
During their chats, Lizzy’s weakness appeared to be a home-cooked meal. While he understood she was merely homesick, it wouldn’t hurt to feed that craving.
He searched high and low for what would assuage those feelings before happening upon Aunt Martha’s Kitchen.
Not only was the woman down-to-earth, but Martha’s cooking was to die for. Red swore he gained ten pounds eating a single plate, let alone the dessert she insisted he try.
He could still taste the sweet, mellow richness of her cinnamon peach cobbler now. The woman sure had a knack for mixing things, for the sweet treat, spiked with bourbon, certainly had a kick.
Liz’s brow puckered critically, wishing for nothing more than to taste anything at this point other than the orange tartness of the tic-tac she rolled about her tongue.
“I know you recently stated a craving for fried chicken,” Red sweetened the pot.
“And peach cobbler...” Liz added wistfully. The woman closed her eyes, then snapped them open as a blare of a car horn jolted her back to the present.
“I assure you, it’s as sublime as you imagine.” Red’s eyes crinkled, just picturing Lizzy salivating at the very idea. “She even has black-eyed peas and the sweetest cornbread this side of the Mason-Dixon line.”
“...Oh, I love black-eyed peas and cornbread.” Liz sighed airily, then frowned.
“Unfortunately, I was roped into an assignment, so...I guess I can’t take you up on the dinner thing.”
“Oh?” Red’s interest piqued. “What would that be, exactly? Can you say?”
“Oh, Red...” she replied glumly, “they’re sending me to babysit a dead body.”
“Excuse me?” Red questioned his hearing.
The woman woefully related all she knew and how it all came about. “I was a sucker, right?” She sensed as much. “I should have fawned it off on that new guy...the one who is always spilling things.”
Red couldn’t help wondering if this assignment was a ploy of some sort. He never had trusted the FBI, even more so now after his and Lizzy’s recent adventures.
“You’re alone?” Red felt a frown overtake his features. “The new klutz isn’t with you?”
Patting Dembe’s shoulder, Red took the tablet he had indicated. He pulled up a view of Elizabeth’s location.
“Yes,” she sighed, “alone and hungry, and probably lost out in the middle of nowhere. I haven’t seen a road sign in fifty miles, I swear.” Okay, she just passed a few, but they were on the opposite side of the road, so they didn’t count, right?
Liz straightened in her seat as a subtle beep interrupted. “That’ll be Cooper!” She gasped. “Oh, no... oh no... uhm, Dembe, how... how do I switch calls?” She pushed one button after another in rapid succession. “Hello...Hello? Yes, hello...I’m here, sir. Hello?”
Red grimaced slightly, squinting his dismay, hearing the mounting anxiety in the woman’s tone.
“Elizabeth, the call button should..” Dembe hurriedly attempted to get information conveyed but... “it’s the button nearest your thumb on the...”
Red shook his head as Lizzy’s frantic voice piped through loud and clear from the speakers.
“Sir!” Liz called out. “Sir, are you there?” The woman pushed and stared hard out into the gusty night. “Oh shit! Hello! Hello?”
Red sighed inwardly Lizzy still addressed Cooper as a superior. Even though she no longer officially worked for the man. Which was nice, in one way, he supposed.
“Agent...” Cooper sighed heavily, “I mean, Elizabeth...I’m hearing you. Please stop pushing the buttons.”
Swallowing at the lump in her throat, Liz cleared it quickly. “I’m here, sir.”
Red fell silent, listening intently to the call.
“I spoke with the forensic team,” Cooper related, “bad news, horrible actually... they are two hours out on arrival to your destination.”
“Two hours!” Liz gasped her dismay, her eyes swept the dark, lonely stretch of road she traveled.
Cooper grimaced himself. “There is a slight backlog tonight, I suppose, due to the holiday and... whatnot.” He trailed off.
“I understand, sir.” Liz slumped dejectedly, looking longingly at her discarded pack of tic-tacs. “I suppose I should get on out there then? To the address and...and the dead body?”
Hope tinged her voice. Maybe the guy had changed his mind? Why he would, though, was anyone’s guess. She was grasping at straws and the possibility of peach cobbler.
“I know this sucks, but I can’t tell you how appreciative I am for your help in this matter.” Cooper sounded sincere enough, even to Red’s jaded ears. “As soon as anyone is available, I will send them your way, my word, Agent...Elizabeth.” He corrected yet again.
“Glad to do my part, sir.” Liz gamely replied, forcing a smile. “Oh, sir... have you had an update about Ressler?” She asked, hoping maybe Samar and Ressler could come back and relieve her?
“Ressler called, said they were in the ER waiting.” Cooper said. “Drive carefully.” He disengaged the call.
“Did I hang up on you, sir?” Liz was aghast for a second before she realized. “...Is anyone out
there? Red? Did I hang up on you guys, too?” She started pushing buttons...
“We’re here, sweetheart.” Red hastily spoke, before the woman could disconnect the call.
“Did you hear any of that?” She pouted her lot in life.
“We heard, yes.” Red said. “I assure you, the information is safe with me.”
“Could I maybe get a rain check on dinner?” Liz returned to the subject foremost on her mind.
“Of course, sweetheart.” Red assured. “Perhaps later this evening, when you’re free.”
“Yeah,” Liz brightened, “yeah, it won’t be too late, will it.”
“I will see to it Aunt Martha stays open just for you.” Red promised with a smile
