I have written under the username here (Jess Phoenix) for approx. 8.5 years - mostly horror and fantasy, though have written in other genres.
For approximately half that time I have also ran (or in some cases helped run) several online writing sites. December 20, 2004 - Alexandria, Virginia
Zach was tired, the current case wearing him down, but not tired enough to notice that something was wrong when he arrived home.
Leaving the engine running, he exited the black Ford SUV and unbuttoned his coat, reaching for his FBI-issue Glock under it. Before heading towards the house that felt altogether too empty, he took the house key off of his key ring so that he wouldn't make any unnecessary noise.
All the while, the telling They are okay kept running through his head.
With Glock and key in hand, he took in a deep breath, centered himself, and went toward the house.
Anyone who watched, and was interested, would have seen a transformation come over the man's face as he first neared, then opened, the door. The man slipping quietly and efficiently into the too quiet house was no longer the loving husband and father, but a trained agent who hunted killers during his days, and sometimes his nights.
While he wished it was different, it was the only way he would be able to get through what he was almost positive would be coming.
Hallway. Living room. Kitchen.
Oh, God,
came the stray thought while looking through a kitchen that should have had remnants of cooking aromas still left.
Fighting back fear and despair.
Staircase, master bedroom, kids rooms........nothing.
The lack of evidence, as well as the scene that looked like a family just stepped out for a moment and would be back any second, gave rise to his worst nightmares.
Sitting down on top step, rocking slightly, hands - one still holding the gun - against his head, letting the emotions out for a second.
Zach then felt the control and training snap itself back and drew out his cell phone and dialed his boss, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Moving like a man forty years older than he was, Zach went back downstairs, left his house, locked the door, and waited inside the SUV.
When the team arrived, Zach explained what happened in as clear and concise a manner as he could.
After everyone but his supervisor had left, Zach turned bleak eyes to the man and said, "It's the Unsub we’ve been looking for, isn't it Carswell?"
"Yes," came the answer.
"It's unnecessary to tell you that, per procedure, you should be taken off the case, so I won't."
A ghost of a smile greeted the statement.
"If the result is the same as before, I'll hand in my badge."
With a grim laugh, Zach said, "If? How's that for denial?"
Carswell, knowing all the people in the B.A.U. better than they sometimes knew themselves, made himself comfortable.
"Tolliver, head to bed, take whatever you need to sleep, and I want you reasonably fresh in the morning"
Holding his hand up in order to forestall an argument, Carswell said, "One, you didn't hear me say to take whatever you need to sleep, and, two, you know that if you're dead on your feet you won't be off any help to me.
"And, if you are dead on your feet come morning, I will take you off the case."
Knowing when not to argue, Zach headed upstairs to bed.
December 22, 2004 - F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
Zach was sifting through some information on the strangler cases that could in some way set off any ideas that would lead them to the unsub when Carswell came into his office.
Expecting the visit for the past two days, Zach looked at his boss.
"There was a woman's body found in Arlington. The locals need one of us to come and identify."
Walter Carswell kept his voice cool and unemotional, knowing Zach understood that he was there for him.
Zach nodded, closed his eyes for a few seconds, then stood up.
"Let's go."
When Zach stood over the mutilated body of his wife, the only thing that kept him from breaking down right then and there was the slim hope that his kids were still alive.
December 25, 2004 - Alexandria, Virginia
Zach was sitting on a couch in the living room, looking at the Christmas tree the four of them had decorated as a family and wearily rubbed the tears from his eyes.
Leaning back, he eyed the level of whiskey in the bottle when the phone rang.
Oh well,
he thought, feeling disassociated from everything. Might need it later.
"We have him."
Zach drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"I'll be in front of your door in five minutes."
"Thanks, Boss," Zach replied.
He was waiting outside when Carswell pulled up.
"The police are waiting on us."
Zach watched and listened, barely able to suppress his rage, as the "Falls Church Strangler" talked.
When the man recounted what he did with a sly look of ill-concealed rapture about what he did to the women and children, it took three men to restrain Zach.
Carswell, after talking with the rest of the team about what help they could give, took Zach home and called a doctor to come out and sedate him.
He stayed with Zach through the night, this being the only thing he could do for one of his best agents. Also knowing that when the man they had caught went to trial, it could very well end Zach’s career within the Bureau, though definitely within the B.A.U.
December 20, 2005 - Dallas, Texas - Zach's Private Journal
A year has passed since my family was taken, and nearly a year since Sarah was tortured and killed.
It's a wonder that the Bureau kept me on after that bastard came to trial.
In my head I know that little Travis and Celia are dead, though their bodies haven't been found.
I just wish that he had told us where they were buried.
Anyone can say that if it was meant to be, it was meant to be - I don’t believe it.
It could be argued that it’s human nature, that everyone has a darker side and that we simply don’t let it come out due to our own moralities.
Yes, that could be argued, but would it be a valid argument? I wish that I knew.
I’m lucky enough that I can still liase with the locals, could have gotten fired and then where would I be?