Chapter 20

He picked it up, his eyes still on us. “Jackson. Ok,” He hung up. “Another body just turned up.”

Hotch glanced over at me. “L/N, take Prentiss and Reid. Check it out—with Detective Rizzo.”

We arrived at the park a short time later and were quickly briefed on the scene. Female victim. Killed the same morning her body was discovered. The Replicator was escalating—this wasn’t just a series anymore. It was turning into a spree.

The victim’s car was missing. No leads on it yet, which meant the unsub might’ve stolen it—and he could still be on the move.

As we crossed the scene, I could feel the eyes on us—locals watching from a distance with a mix of curiosity and quiet resentment. The Bureau didn’t get a warm welcome around here. Not that I cared.

But the moment I saw the body, the noise around me faded. It was obvious—this one was meant for me.

Her torso was covered in deep scratches. Her breasts had been removed post-mortem. And lying right on top of her chest was a photo of me—my ID photo, blood smeared across it like a warning.

I crouched down, jaw clenched. “I had a case in New York—four years ago. Female victim, same M.O. Breasts removed, torso mutilated. Same hair, same eye color, same build.” I paused, looking between Reid and Prentiss. “That case was never public. He had to really dig to find it.”

“The photo of you was taken from a distance; there’s no way of telling where you were,” Reid said, examining the photo.

“Let’s head back to the squad, see if they’ve got anything for us,” Prentiss said, her eyes lingering on the blood-smeared photo like she was trying to unlock the whole case through it.

JJ scanned my face, searching for a way in—something she could say that wouldn’t just bounce off. “Everything’s happening fast. We’ve got three victims now, all tied to the Bureau. Two of them are tied to you, Y/N. He’s not just copying murders—he’s targeting us. Years of pent-up rage, and now he’s turning it into revenge.”

I nodded, but the words barely landed. I felt like I was thinking in static.

Later that night, I sat in the hotel room, staring at the ceiling and trying to pick him apart. But my brain was fried. I couldn’t hold a thought long enough to shape it. No theories. No profiles. Just noise.

I left without saying a word to anyone and walked to the hotel we were staying at. Checked in, got my key, went straight to my room. I knew the M.E. wouldn’t have the autopsy results until morning. There was nothing else I could do tonight.

I stepped into the shower, hoping it would do something—loosen the tension, calm my head. It didn’t.

A knock at the door pulled me out of it. Still dripping, I wrapped myself in a towel and checked the peephole. Emily. Probably checking in on me. I opened the door and let her in.

“You okay, L/N?” she asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You looked a little rattled when you saw the latest victim.”

Before I could answer, another knock—lighter this time. That knock, I knew.

JJ.

I opened the door without thinking.

JJ stood there, soft smile fading just a little when she spotted Emily on the bed.

“Hey,” she said, clearing her throat. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “Come in.”

JJ stepped inside, glancing once more at Emily, then at me, still wrapped in a towel.

“Looks like I’m late to the check-in party,” JJ said, trying for casual.

Emily chuckled. “Apparently, you have to catch her right out of the shower to get the full Y/N breakdown.”

JJ gave a tight smile, eyes flicking to mine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

My pulse spiked. One more second, and she might’ve blown our cover, not that it would be a big deal if it was.

Emily leaned back on her hands, completely unaware. “We’re all wiped. Hotch said we’ll regroup in the morning after the autopsy. Figured I’d check in on you before crashing.”

I nodded, keeping my expression even. “Appreciate it. Just trying to get my head on straight. I haven’t thought about these cases in years.”

JJ stayed quiet, arms folded, eyes scanning the room like she wasn’t sure whether to sit or run.

Emily let out a sigh, “Well, I’m going to get some sleep.” She walks up to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get him Y/N just relax tonight, we’re gonna need that brain of yours tomorrow.”

JJ stepped aside as Emily moved past her, offering a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The door clicked softly behind Emily as she left.

I turned to JJ. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the floor like it might offer her something useful.

Then finally—”That case you mentioned. The one from New York.” Her voice was low. “You never told me how close it was.”

I let the silence sit for a moment before answering. “Because I wanted it to stay in the past. And now it’s showing up in pieces.”

JJ looked up, the worry etched deep between her brows. “He’s not just targeting the team anymore. He’s targeting you.“

I nodded, throat tight. “I know.”

She crossed the room in two steps and wrapped her arms around me, towel and all. “Then we’re going to end this. Together.”

Her arms tightened around me, warm and grounding. I pressed my forehead to hers, eyes closing for just a second. The chaos, the fear, the noise—none of it mattered when she held me like this.

Her lips parted like she had something to say, but I didn’t give her the chance. I kissed her—slow and certain—pulling her in by the waist as the towel loosened slightly around me. Her fingers found my skin, curling at my sides.

She pulled back just an inch, her voice barely a whisper. “We shouldn’t…”

“I know,” I said, brushing my thumb over her jaw, wishing I didn’t. That kiss only made me want her more.

JJ’s eyes lingered on mine like she wanted to stay, like walking away might actually hurt. She gave a soft breath of a laugh—sad, almost—and stepped back.

“I should go,” she murmured, running a hand through her hair as if trying to reassemble herself.

I nodded, even though I didn’t want her to. “Yeah. Tomorrow’s going to be hell.”

But before she could fully turn, I caught her wrist. She hesitated, and I leaned in—just once more. The kiss was softer this time, slower, like neither of us wanted to let go. Her fingers curled into the side of my towel like she was holding on for more than just balance.

She pulled away with her eyes still closed, as if committing it to memory.

She reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“You too.”

JJ opened the door, stepped halfway into the hallway, then turned back to look at me one last time. The softest smile played on her lips.

“I love you,” she said—like it slipped out by accident. Her eyes widened a little, but before I could say anything, she turned and disappeared down the hall.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And I just stood there, heart racing, still wrapped in nothing but a towel—and the echo of her words.

When I woke up, everything from the night before was gone. Tucked away. No hesitation. No room for distraction.

I was focused.

The second my feet hit the floor, my brain was already running—mapping timelines, replaying crime scene details, connecting threads. The steam from the shower didn’t faze me this time. I barely looked in the mirror. This wasn’t about me. It never was.

I grabbed my go-bag, slid on my holster, and headed out. On the way to the precinct, I made a stop at a nearby coffee shop and picked up everyone’s usual.

By the time I walked into the station, I was calm. Collected. Focused.

Hotch and Rossi were at the ME’s office when they discovered that our second victim—and another one—were both nurses. That gave us a clearer idea of what we were dealing with.

Hotch stepped off the elevator and passed by me. Without breaking stride, he said, “Conference room. Meeting with Strauss.”

Inside, Strauss stood with her arms crossed. “This is making us all look bad. The director and the attorney general want you off the case—and I don’t disagree. Your ability to investigate might be compromised.”

Hotch met her gaze, voice firm. “I can assure you, that will not be the case.”

She gave a curt nod. “I’ll tell the director you’re continuing the investigation. Let’s speed things up, alright.” She logged off.

We all exchanged looks, silently piecing together our next move.

Garcia called with a hit through ViCap related to the nurse theory.
“Fifteen years ago, the BAU worked a case involving the murders of four nurses. The killer was caught, and one victim survived. The killer died five months ago by lethal injection.”

I leaned forward. “What if that was the trigger?”

“That sounds like it,” Garcia confirmed. “Let’s get the profile delivered.”

We ruled out everyone connected to the killer from fifteen years ago. He had no friends—completely isolated both inside and out.

Rossi shouted from across the room, flipping through old case files, “It’s him! Donnie Bidwell was the primary suspect before we arrested Kemper. DNA cleared him, and the charges were dropped. But his name got leaked to the press.”

Hotch immediately called Garcia. “Get me everything on Donnie Bidwell.”

Garcia replied, “He’s a recently divorced father of two who can’t hold down a job—twelve jobs in the last ten years. He owned a business when he was arrested fifteen years ago, but it collapsed after the media got a hold of him.” She sent over his home and work addresses.

I grabbed the keys off the table, locking eyes with Hotch. “This guy has nothing to lose. We need to tread carefully.”

JJ, Reid, Prentiss, and Rossi took the work address while the rest of us headed to the house.

We pulled up with our car lights off. Hotch didn’t waste a second—he kicked the door down, and we began our sweep. I stayed close to Detective Rizzo, covering his six as he moved through the living room.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bidwell pull a gun and aim it at Rizzo.

“Gun!” I shouted, tackling Rizzo hard to the ground.

“He took off out back!” Morgan yelled.

“Are you okay?” I asked Rizzo, adrenaline flooding my veins.

Without waiting for an answer, I sprinted after Morgan, chasing Bidwell down a narrow alley. Morgan fired several shots, but Bidwell dodged, turning a corner just before police cars boxed him in.

“Hands where I can see them!” I shouted, my gun trained on his head.

Donnie dropped the weapon and slowly turned around. Morgan cuffed him without incident.

They immediately took him to booking, and I followed close behind. I needed answers—needed to know what made him tick.

As I was about to head in, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Agent L/N, I would… I… thank you for what you did back there.”

I turned to see Rizzo, his expression softer than usual.

“Always got your back, Rizzo,” I said, shaking his hand firmly.

I continued down the hall and stepped into the observation room where Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss were already gathered.

“He lawyer up yet?” I asked, walking toward the door.

Hotch held up a prescription bottle. “No. But he needs these—anticonvulsants. He’s on a strict regimen.”

I took the bottle from him with a smirk. “Perfect. I’ll make them count.”

I walked into the interrogation room, coffee in one hand and the bottle of pills in the other.

“Let’s get to business, Donnie,” I said, pulling the chair out and taking a seat across from him.

He was trembling, eyes fixed on his hands like they held all the answers.

“I saw the photo of your daughters at your place,” I started, keeping my tone steady. “How are they doing?”

He swallowed hard, his face twitching. “I… I don’t know. My wife just left. Took them and disappeared.”

“That must’ve been—”

“Difficult?” he cut me off, voice rising with fury. “Yeah, it was difficult. My wife left me because of your mistake. You people ruined my life!”

His hand shot out, snatching the bottle of pills from the table. He popped the cap and dry-swallowed one in frustration.

“So I figured I’d return the favor,” he growled. “I want my phone call.”

I stood slowly, glancing at the officer posted near the door. “I’m sorry, Donnie,” I said calmly. “It’s clear these last few years haven’t been easy.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked out and joined the team in the conference room, and started snacking.

A loud clatter echoed from the interrogation room.

We all jumped to our feet and rushed inside.

Bidwell was slumped over the table, seizing violently. The officer meant to be watching him was gripping his shoulders, trying to keep him steady.

The bottle of anticonvulsants lay on the floor—empty.

“Shit,” I muttered, rushing forward.

“He downed the rest,” the officer said, panicked. “He must’ve waited until I left.”

Paramedics were already being called, but we all knew—he wasn’t going to make it.

His breathing grew ragged. His lips turned blue.

I crouched beside him, watching helplessly as his body shook with diminishing force.

“He wanted control,” Hotch said quietly behind me. “Even at the end.”

Bidwell’s body finally stilled, his chest no longer rising.

The room went silent.

“Fuck,” I whispered, standing slowly. “He took the answers with him.”

Rossi stared at the body. “He didn’t want justice. He wanted revenge. And now he’s made himself the last victim.”

Eventually, we walked out together, shoulders heavy with the silence of a case closed without closure.

Back at Quantico, the bullpen was quiet. No chatter, no banter—just the soft hum of computers and the occasional sigh from someone typing up their report. JJ passed me in the hallway, brushing my hand with hers in a fleeting gesture of comfort. A reminder that I wasn’t alone, even if everything felt a little heavier now.

When I got home, I dropped my go-bag by the door and kicked off my shoes, collapsing onto the couch without bothering to turn the lights on. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel. I just wanted a minute to not be an agent, or a profiler, or someone who watched another life slip through their fingers.

A knock at the door pulled me from the stillness.

I opened it to find JJ standing there with two pizza boxes stacked in her hands and a six-pack under her arm.

“You didn’t think I was letting you brood alone tonight, did you?” she said, smiling gently.

My chest eased, just a little. “You brought pizza?”

“Vegetable Pizza with Parmesan garlic crust. I know you.”

She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, setting the boxes on the coffee table and tossing me a beer. I caught it with one hand.

We sat together in the quiet, legs tangled under the blanket, grease-stained napkins scattered around us, some crime show rerun humming in the background.

Neither of us said much—we didn’t need to.

Sometimes, survival wasn’t about the job. Sometimes, it was about the small, quiet moments after.

And in that silence, with her by my side, I finally let myself breathe.