Criminal Minds 7 Seconds Novels & Stories

Beggar Shut up and drive The place is dead, and the sun is shining at its highest peak. We've been here at the river for the past hour. After got off the phone five minutes ago, “So you ready to take down a chick.” After just finished debriefing me on the conversation she had with Mercy. We are now searching for a twenty seven year old woman who is a killer, drugged with some heavy scientist shit that made her bat-shit crazy.

“I need an escape hatch.” I send the message and wait, sip on my latte. It’s weak and foamy; I wish for New York City coffee, coffee that’s like a punch in the face. There’s a television mounted in the corner of the café tuned to CNN. On the screen: a gallery of murdered women and a caption that reads, COPYCAT? The sound is down, and white closed captions scroll across the screen. “…similar to the murders that took place nearly ten years ago, less than fifty miles from here. But the man accused and convicted of those crimes was killed when…” I look away, my heart racing for some reason, a deafening rushing sound in my ears. I don’t want to see any more.

Enraged, they hurled stones and dirty water at me. "Officer, execute him as soon as possible! We won't feel safe otherwise!" "Damn it–this kind of monster kills, dumps the body, cheats on his wife, and still tries to frame her? He deserves to die!" "He must be a psychopath–who else would murder someone and dump the body in broad daylight?" Suddenly, a thought struck me. I struggled again and shouted, "Officer–after all this, who exactly are you saying I killed?"

They we're about to clean everything when the color of those bastards blood made me want to kill more of them. Indeed, when my eyes caught sight of Victoria again, a vicious idea forms in my head. I don't care if it will counted me as a psycho or perv for what I am about to do. I just need a release and this could be a last good memory of this place before selling it to another person. "Jace" I call to the lieutenant of my crime unit. "Yes. Don. Leave the cleaning for tomorrow" I said. "I also want a full report of tonight's security breach and tonight's event tomorrow morning. Make sure to inform our removalist team to ready my home at Southern Park, 460 Park Avenue tomorrow."

It just never occurred to me that my act of service would get me in trouble one day. "I see that you are not ready to talk. Just so you know, you'll remain here until you confess." With that, Seven murdered me with his eyes before turning around and walking out the door. I heard the large bolt rattle before jamming. And then, silence fell... It has been days since Seven locked me up here. I had lost track of time because my own way of telling it was a new day was via the chink of light that came into the basement through the tiny window.

Rannon said to no one in particular. “Listen fuckwads,” I walked to the mini bar in the corner and poured myself a drink. I didn’t say another word until I had taken my seat behind my desk trying to plaster on a professional face in place of my freshly, three times fucked face. “I want you all at your best tonight. These fuckers have caused enough trouble that we’re starting to get a bad rep. Club Seven has only been opened for a month and already we have had one shooting, a rape and a stabbing. That’s not a coincidence if you ask me.”

I saw it, so I hope she will too. After Sean and I made an assumption yesterday about Renold being both Mia's and Sheldon's killer, we spent all day drawing up conclusions and linking evidence. So far, all we have is the motive for murder, and somewhat a description match. Also, from the footage at the station, we can indeed link that man to the man at Sheldon's murder. Now, all we needed was evidence to present in front of a judge. And to do so, we needed to actually GET the evidence.

I snarled as I stormed over to them. Bobby and the two cops both turned to acknowledge me. Fear flashed through their eyes. "Mr. Brown," Bobby said, looking down. "There's been a situation. The depot is being shut down as a crime scene." I turned my attention to the cops. "Well? What's the fucking crime?" "A car belonging to a suspected murder victim was found in a train car that departed from this depot," said one cop. He fiddled with the notepad in his hand, looking anywhere but my eyes.

But this time, my cheeks weren't just hot with a blush—they were burning with a cold dread. For three months, I thought I was talking to some normal businessman. A guy who was exciting and new, but safe. I might work for the mob, but I never, ever wanted to be with a mobster. That was a death wish. And to think I’d been trading my deepest fantasies and whispering my secrets to a made man… My phone buzzed again—a voice call. I couldn’t answer. He’d hear the panic in my voice. I fumbled with the screen, declining the call.

I would fall into a daze and eventually drift off to sleep. I became numb to everything around me and followed instructions almost mechanically. Eventually, I learned to be clever. I hid the pills. I flawlessly mimicked the behavior of people affected by the medication and replicated every gesture with precision. Not only could I fool the doctors but also Ava. I learned from books that when dealing with a stronger enemy, brute force did not work. I needed to be smart. There were all kinds of drugs in the mental health institute. Each one had different effects. I thought they were amazing and had always wanted to try them on someone.