Actions

Work Header

The Many Deaths of George Foyet

Chapter Text

“Agent Hotchner, head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, steps down.” Foyet read the words aloud off his screen. It was amazing what you could find on the net these days. He slid his hand down his pants, stroking himself as he stared at the picture of Aaron the press had managed to snap, the annoyance at the publicity showing in the Agent’s eyes. “Mmmm…” He was so close to release and then THUMP! “What the… hello?” He called out. No answer of course.

Slowly George rose to his feet and glanced around the room. No one there. He walked into the other room and saw that a window was opened and a lamp knocked over on the floor, but no one there. Shrugging he turned to go back to his computer. He had only taken a few steps when he heard a yell and before he could turn back around, something hard was brought down on the back of his head and everything went black.

When Foyet came to there was a throbbing pain in his head. He tried to reach up to touch what he knew must be a bump but to his surprise he couldn’t move his arms. He looked down to see large thick wires binding him. He heard a small chuckle and looked up again to see a heavy set, blonde haired woman, dressed from head to toe in pink velvet, wearing white leather gloves, sitting at his computer desk.

“What the fuck? Let me go!” Foyet snapped, struggling.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no! You are not getting out of here until you get what you deserved!”

He stared at her. “Who are you?!?”

“I am the Goddess of Technology and you, my ugly, are my prisoner.”

“You’re crazy, that’s what you are!” He grumbled and tugged at the cords, trying to get free but to no avail.

“Well, it won’t help your situation to sweet talk me.” The woman smiled mischievously and turned back to her computer. “Now, I hear you know something about computers, do you?”

“What?”

“According to the files you used to work as a computer consultant.”

“What files?”

“The FBI files of course.”

“Oh,” Foyet gave a small chuckle. “You’re one of Agent Hotchner’s little friends! Tell me, how is he? Does he miss his wife and kid?”

The woman’s eyes flashed, “Yes!” She hissed. “You ruined my ubercool bossman’s life!”

“Well what can I say? I can’t help myself; he’s just too much fun!”

To his surprise and disappointment, her anger evened out into a smile. “Well, since he’s not here, I guess we’ll have to have fun all by ourselves, now won’t we?” She flashed her eyes at him and pressed a button on the keyboard.

“AGGH!” He gave a cry of pain as it felt like fire ran through his veins. When it stopped he was left panting. When his breathing had calmed enough he lifted his head again, “Wh-what w-w-was tha…”

“Electricity my foul feathered enemy!” And she pressed another button repeating the process.

“H-h-how?”

“The wires! They are hooked up so that every time I do this…” She pressed another button causing him to cry out in pain. “That happens.”

“I-I’m goin t-ta k-kill you a-and A-a-agen H-hotchna.”He got out, growing more disoriented with every round.

“Oh!” The woman’s eyes widened, mockingly. “Well, we can’t have that?” And she pressed another button and this time held it down until the screams had died down and only the body was left jerking. After that, she released the button, got up, and giving a quick glance around the apartment before leaving.

…..

The next day Agent Hotchner was interrupted by Garcia dashing into his office. “Garcia?” He questioned.

“Hotch!” She cried excitedly. “I think I have something!”

“Well?”

“Okay, so you know how we’ve been trying to find Foyet using the drugs he’s addicted too?”

“Yes.” He replied thinly.

“Well, I was at the pharmacy the other day to pick up a prescription for… well it doesn’t matter. Anyway it was out and the pharmacist mentioned that a lot of drugs can be used as substitutes for others. So I researched which one’s had been purchased by the same person and I found three. Now I looked at them for a while and I realized that one spells the Reaper, all scrambled up so-“

At this point Aaron leapt to his feet. “Thanks, Garcia, you’re amazing!” And headed out the door to get the team ready to go in.

…..

Five hours later, Garcia was sitting on the edge of her seat in her office, when her phone rang. “Hello?” She practically shrieked into the phone. “Is it over? Did you catch him?”

“Yeah, Baby Girl,” Morgan’s perturbed voice. “It’s over.”

“Then what’s wrong? You sound upset.”

“Well, he was already dead when we got here. Murdered!” He gave a small laugh.

“Wow!” Garcia whistled, a grin playing around her lips. “I wonder who it was?”

Chapter Text

Taking a deep breath Derek Morgan knocked on yet another door. It had been a long day. The team was investigating the disappearance of a young girl and this had to be the third door he’d knocked on. There was the sound of footsteps and the door opened… then slammed shut again.

But the glimpse of the man had been enough. “George Foyet, FBI! Open up!” Morgan shouted, drawing his gun and kicking the door as hard as he could. He was surprised when it burst open only to bounce back closed again. Undeterred, he kicked it again, only to get the same effect. The third time though he was rewarded with a loud thump and the door finally gave way.

Morgan prepared to rush into the apartment, when he saw that the man he was looking for was collapsed on the floor. Apparently when Foyet had closed the door he had tried to take the time to lock it to give himself a bit of extra time but Morgan’s kicking in the door had interrupted that. Unable to move out of the way after the blow, he’d been forced to take the second, and the third had taken him down.

Without taking his eyes or his gun off the man on the floor he pulled his phone out, “Hotch, gonna need some back up. I’ve got Foyet here.” And he hung up. All of a sudden Foyet’s hand twitched. On the one hand it could be just a twitch, but on the other hand the guy had already proved himself more than capable of faking sick and Morgan would hate to have a repeat of the last couple of months happen because of his negligence. Another twitch and Morgan fired his gun into Foyet’s chest. If anyone asked he’d just say he saw Foyet reaching for his pocket. He’d just leave out the part that the man was unconscious at the time.

Chapter Text

“Mmm…” Foyet groaned as he awoke. What had happened? He remembered going to some bar, getting into his car, and then … nothing. But damn his head hurt! He tried to reach up to touch it but found he couldn’t. In fact he couldn’t move a muscle. He was bound with a rope wrapped around every inch of his body to some hard board.

“Glad to see you’re awake!” A suspiciously happy voice came from the other side of the room.

Foyet tried to turn his head but of course couldn’t. He didn’t have to lay in wait though as soon a head popped into vision above him. “What the-“He recognized the face as one of the agent’s that had burst into his house to arrest him.

“Should we begin?”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, in the middle ages they had this method of torture. They’d place heavy rocks on a person’s chest so that the weight of the rocks would force whatever information they needed out of the person’s mouth. I plan on doing the same thing except seeing as I don’t have rocks, I’ll be using books and no matter what you say, you’re still dying.”

Foyet scoffed. “You’re going to kill me with books? That’ll never work!”

The man smirked. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I have a lot of books. Comes when one’s Mother’s an English teacher. These,” He gestured to the three bookshelves full of volumes behind him. “Are just the tip of the iceberg.” Foyet paled a bit. “Now, enough chit-chat. How about we start with some of the classics? I like to get them in hardcover; makes them last longer.” He went over to one of the shelves and pulled out one. “Don Quixote! Excellent.” He placed it on Foyet’s chest and turned back to the bookshelf. “How about a dictionary next?” This continued until so many books were sitting on Foyet’s chest that it was difficult to breathe.

Chapter Text

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. Is that why your marriage broke up because you’re a liar?” Aaron was Daddy’s name! Was that Daddy on the phone? At first Jack was excited but then he frowned. Why was George being mean to Daddy? He looked over at Mommy and saw that she looked upset. Then George said something about Sam being dead! He liked Uncle Sam; why would George say he was dead? Uncle Sam had come to visit just this morning and he was fine! The only reason George would say that was if he was a liar and liars were mean. Suddenly George leaned across the table and covered Jack’s ears. “… she’s going to d-i-e because of your inflated ego!”

D-I-E spelled die! This man was going to hurt Mommy! Jack had to do something, but what? Luckily his Daddy had an idea. “Tell Jack I need him working the case.”

“What?” His Mommy asked.

But Jack wasn’t confused. His Daddy and he played that game all the time and Jack remembered that before they had left he had accidentally left his baseball bat in the case. He had asked Mommy if they could go back for it but she had said no. Daddy must have known something was going to happen and left it there on purpose! He had to hurry.

Leaping to his feet, he ran up to Daddy’s office, opened the case and grabbed the bat. Then he rushed back downstairs. He was just in time. George had taken out a gun and was walking over towards Mommy. Growling, Jack ran across the room, lifted the bat and smacked George in the wrist, causing him to drop the gun.

“Uggh, you little…” George said a bad word, and headed towards Jack but by this time Haley had snapped out of her helpless state and leapt forwards, hands reaching out to grab George’s neck and pull him away for her son.

“Don’t you touch him!”

Jack hit George again, this time in the knee, “Yay Mommy we can be a team!” George struggled and managed to break free and dove across the floor for the gun but Jack hit his hand with the bat again. “Guns are bad, George, don’t touch!”

Haley scooped up the gun, cocked it, and pointed it at Foyet who was still clutching his wrist. “Jack, baby, go upstairs okay? I’ll take care of this!” Jack nodded and skipped off. He knew that his work here was done. Once he was out of the room, Haley stepped closer to Foyet. He looked up at her. “Don’t ever mess with my family!” She growled, and squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Text

‘Bills, some stupid ads, the newspaper. Nothing good.’ Foyet thought as he sifted through his mail. Shifting it to his other hand, he pulled out his key and unlocked the door to his apartment. Turning on the light he headed towards his computer.

Suddenly something sharp went into his neck, and he dropped his mail. He tried to turn but for some reason, he couldn’t move. His knees collapsed from under him, and he was left staring up at his attacker. David Rossi.

How had the FBI found him without him knowing? And why was the Agent seemingly alone? Foyet tried to open his mouth to say something but couldn’t. It was as if all voluntary motor function in his body had shut down.

“Mr. Foyet.” The Agent nodded. “I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in but I figured since you did the same at Aaron’s apartment, you don’t stand on formalities.” Was this what this was about? Some revenge for what he’d done to the guy’s friend? Well he could do what he wanted. Foyet had plenty of money to sue him for abuse of power and all that crap later. Or that was what he thought until he saw the man take out a knife. “Well, let’s get down to business.” The man ripped George’s shirt off. Was he going to reopen the scars? That would hurt, but it was nothing George couldn’t handle. However, he felt the blade dip into his skin somewhere completely different than any of the scars. “You… had Aaron on the floor, unable to speak, unable to move, while you stabbed him. Now I’m going to do the same to you.” Rossi dragged the knife across and then brought it back to the middle of the wound and dragged it down; a move that would have made Foyet scream if he could.

The knife entered his skin again right next to the first wound and was driven down, and then up in an arc. Was the man writing? Foyet didn’t have time to ponder this. It was getting harder to concentrate and soon everything faded to black.

…..

Three days later, JJ entered Hotch’s office. “Hotch, the police station called. They want us… or rather you down at the morgue to identify a body.”

“What?” Aaron, his impassive mask slipping. “Did they say who it was?” He was thinking of Haley and Jack.

“Sorry, but no. They just said it’s urgent.” JJ winced sympathetically.

Rising to his feet Aaron was out the door, and had arrived at the morgue ten minutes later. He checked with the front desk, and was ushered into a room.

“Now I must warn you, it’s very gruesome.” The mortician warned, standing over a covered body.

“Just do it.” Hotch replied grimly. If Haley or Jack had died he wanted to know the details; even if it hurt.

Slowly, the mortician pulled back the sheet and revealed the body. For a moment Hotch just stared at it. Then he grinned for what felt like the first time in months. On the table lay the body of George Foyet. He had obviously bled to death. His shirt was off and carved into his abdomen was, “The pen is truly mightier than the sword. However, sometimes the knife, is mightier than both.”

Chapter Text

Foyet smirked as he headed quietly onto the reservation. One by one, Agent Hotchner’s friends would die, until finally it was just Hotchner and his family. Then, when Aaron was hanging on by the illusion that his family at least was safe, Foyet would get Hotchner’s family, bring them to either Aaron’s apartment or their old house (he hadn’t decided on that point yet, but no matter; either one would do), torture them right in front of Aaron, until finally he would kill them. After that, he’d keep Aaron; play with him a bit until seeing him broken no longer got him off, and kill him.

Foyet gave a small moan, anticipating the year or so of pleasure this would give him, and then turned his attention back to his plan of the moment. One thing at a time, after all; no need to rush things.

He’d first heard about Blackwolf while going through some old newspapers about Hotchner’s cases. The article had mentioned the two working together to protect the reservation’s school. George hadn’t thought much of it but stored the information away in his head in case it could be useful. However, less than a month afterward Hotchner had gone out to lunch, meeting the man in question. Blackwolf had been in town for a conference so they had met up. As far as Foyet could tell, they weren’t too close, but they were friends and that was the important thing. Blackwolf’s death would show Hotchner that no one he was even connected to was safe.

George approached the window. It was summer so it was open. All he had to do was cut the screen out, and climb through as quietly as possible. Slowly, he crept down the hall and towards the bedroom, only to be met by his future victim standing arms crossed, knife in hand in the doorway.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” Blackwolf snapped.

“You… were supposed to be asleep.” Foyet replied uneasily. He’d planned this down to a ‘t’! What he’d say to the man, do to him, how he’d make sure Hotchner knew it was him. How could it have gone wrong?

The man snorted, “You make so much noise you could wake a hibernating bear, let alone me. Now, who are you?”

“I’m the Reaper.” Foyet growled, putting on a bravado.

“Who?”

“The Boston Reaper!” Foyet snapped. “George Foyet!”

“Oh,” Blackwolf’s eyes flashed, “So you’re the one who cut up Captain America?

For a moment Foyet just stared at the man in front of him. “What’s a comic book character got to do with this?”

Blackwolf rolled his eyes. “Agent Hotchner, you idiot.”

“Oh.” Foyet paused. “Well it’s because of him that you’re going to have to die now.” He reached to draw his knife but was stopped by Blackwolf darting forward and burrowing his own knife to the hilt in Foyet’s stomach. With a groan, Foyet fell to the floor. “I-“

“You’re going to wish you never left Boston.” Blackwolf bit back, and brought his elbow down on Foyet’s forehead. Then, bringing the knife out, he slammed it back into Foyet’s abdomen, making a new stab, and then again into the man’s heart. After that, Blackwolf stepped back a bit, waiting until he was sure Foyet had stopped breathing. Then, he wrapped his shirt around his hand and slid the man’s knife out of its case and into the man’s hand. Next, he left the body where it lay and went over to the phone. “Sheriff?” He asked, after dialing some numbers. “I’m sorry to wake you but some guy broke into my house. I tried to talk him down but we got into a fight. I think he’s dead.” The Sheriff promised to send an ambulance and a squad over and then they hung up.

…..

An hour later, the body had been cleared away and Blackwolf and the Sherrif sat in the living room.

“I really appreciate your coming out here this late. I’m just sorry it came to this.” Blackwolf murmured apologetically.

“Now, don’t you worry about that.” The Sheriff replied. “Everyone knows you’d do anything to prevent spilling blood. You’ll be cleared in no time.”

Chapter Text

“Hey there, gorgeous!” Foyet turned to see a smiling, beautiful, blonde woman headed towards him from across the club. “What’s a thing like you doing in a seedy place like this?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He smirked, as she sat down in the chair next to him.

She gave a small laugh. “I’m a call girl. An off duty call girl.”

“Oh,” He pouted. “That’s a shame.”

“No it’s not!” She insisted, and placed a hand on his knee. “That means I can do what or whoever I want.”

He cocked his head. “Well, you’re right then. It is a good thing.”

She smiled, charmingly. “My name’s Megan. Megan Kane.”

“Well, Megan, my name’s Peter. Just Peter.” She laughed again. They got to talking and George decided he liked her (it may have helped that as time went on more and more people started to stare at him in jealousy). “So Megan, you wanna go back to my hotel?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” They got up and went to his room.

…..

“So,” George began once they were settled down on the couch. “Why don’t we start by ordering some wine?”

Megan grinned, “I’d like that.” They waited a few minutes and then there was a knock at the door. “You just relax. I’ll get that.” Foyet smiled. He really liked this girl.

A moment later she returned and handed him a glass, “Well,” he started, taking a sip. “Why-“He sputtered. “I’m sorry, I…”He was cut off by a series of uncontrollable coughs. It was getting hard to breath. He looked up to see Megan grinning down at him.

“Don’t worry.” She whispered. “We’ll be in Hell together soon.”

…..

“Suicide?” Aaron asked. “Are they sure?”

“Pretty much.” The local police chief standing next to him answered. “The cameras show him entering the hotel alone. Five minutes later he ordered some wine. When the server came back to clean up he was dead. Tox screen showed tetramine.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, Foyet was many things but I wouldn’t have thought suicidal was one of them.”

The chief shrugged. “Well, people who saw him leave a club earlier that night reported him talking to himself. Probably became unhinged.”

“And no one was there with him?”

“Well, the server thought that it was a woman who answered the door, but there’s no footage of her entering the room and he does have a lot of rooms to go to. Can’t remember anyone. Basically, he either killed himself, or it was a ghost.”

Aaron gave a chuckle. “Does seem unlikely. I guess the case is closed.”

Chapter Text

Letting Mandy fall back against the seat, George drew the knife out and wiped it on her pants. He felt for a pulse and grinned when he found none. He slid the knife back into its sheaf and then into his pocket. Starting the car back up, he pulled out into the road and drove until he saw the pay phone. Getting out he dialed 911 and gave the information to the operator. Then driving back, he pulled over again.

‘Alright.’ He took a deep breath. He’d been planning this for months. He’d just have to make sure not to miss. Relaxing his muscles as much as he could, he matched the knife up with the first area. ‘Here it goes!’ He thought and started to push the blade in, crying out in pain as it entered. Taking a deep breath, he repeated the process over and over again to the different parts of his body that could be stabbed without danger of him dying immediately.

After the final stab, he leaned back and gritting his teeth waited. ‘It shouldn’t be long now’ He thought. But, damn it was getting hard to focus! It felt like it was taking forever. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the seat. ‘Where was that fuckin’ ambulance?” He thought as darkness filled his brain and he knew no more.

…..

Bring! Bring! “Hotchner.” Agent Hotchner answered his cell as he headed towards the jet.

“Um, Agent Hotchner? This is Detective Shaunessy with the Boston Police Department; we spoke earlier.”

“Yes, we’re just getting ready to take off. We should be there in about an hour.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary… we found the guy; he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Last night the Reaper made another call saying that he had killed two more people. The cops and ambulance were sent but the two were both dead on arrival. At first we thought it was a double homicide but then we found that the only prints and DNA on the scene were from the “victims” and souvenirs from the previous victims along with the gun that had been used to kill them in the man’s apartment. George Foyet was his name. He stabbed his girlfriend to death and then did the same to himself. Died of blood loss. I guess he just couldn’t live with the guilt anymore.”

“Well, I wish all cases were so easy. Thank you for letting us know.”

Chapter Text

“… anniversary of the deaths of Henry and Martha Johnson, the biological parents of George Foyet. Thought originally thought to be a car accident, the FBI is now looking into the possibility that these were in fact his first murders.”

Foyet grinned at the reporter’s words. Finally, credit! He almost wanted to dial the number on the screen to give the viewers a surprise treat; let them know how he had done it, but that wouldn’t be wise. Oh well, maybe he’d settle for Aaron; let him know he hadn’t forgotten him. He finished his beer while he thought about what he would say.

“Hey!” He called to the bartender. “ ‘d like another beer?” Hmm… maybe he’d even drop by the guy’s place. It’d be risky, but worth it if everything turned out right; just to prove to Agent Hotchner that despite his and the FBI’s precautions Foyet could still break into Aaron’s apartment and do whatever he wanted to the man. Smiling at the memory, George glanced up to see what was taking the bartender so long and was surprised to see that the man was just standing there staring at him. “What?” He snapped. No answer. “Can I get a beer?” Still no answer. “Geesh,” He said, turning to the man next to him. “Can you believe this guy?” No answer from that guy either. He was sitting there staring at him too. Foyet looked up and glanced around the bar. It seemed like everyone was staring at either him or the tv. Mystefied, he glanced back at the TV. “Oh, shit!”

On the screen was a picture of him with a number under it. “If you see this man,” The reporter was saying, “ please get to the safest place possible and dial this number. Do not…”

Foyet cursed again. Never a break; never. Not even on Christmas for crying out loud! Sometimes he really thought God must hate him. Rising to his feet, he threw a twenty on the counter, told the bartender to keep the change, and made his way to the door. His way was quickly blocked by two thuggish looking men.

“Uh… I need to get by.” He tried to push past them but they stood their ground. “What the hell’s up? If you don’t let me past now, I’ll call the police!” He warned, hoping this would be enough to convince them to let him go.

“Don’t worry,” One of the men spoke. “John already called them. They’ll be here soon.”

Foyet gave a huff. “This is ridiculous; I have a meeting tomorrow and if we don’t get that deal because I’m too tired to-“

“Oh, shut up!” The other man snapped. “We know you’re the Reaper.”

George pretended to do a double take. “What?!? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Now let me out or I’ll sue your ass for holding me against my will.”

“Sure,” The first man snorted, “right after they arrest you for serial killing.”

Heaving a sigh, George shook his head. “Fine. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I’m calling my attorney.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Now where’s that number…” He muttered and reached back into his pocket only to whip out his knife.

He slashed it up towards one of the man’s throats, but the guy moved out of the way and before George could change directions, he was jerked back. He turned to punch his attacker but the men at the door grabbed his arms. Managing to pull one of them free, he aimed for the throat of one of them but had his hand knocked out of the way so the knife only hit the man’s shoulder. Still, it was enough to enrage the man.

“That’s it!” The man picked up a beer bottle that had been broken in the struggle, and before George could react, slashed it across Foyet’s throat. It took less than a minute for Foyet to die and only a couple of minutes more for the cops to arrive. The whole bar testified that it was self-defense, and everyone moved on with their lives (except of course Foyet, who didn’t have one anymore).

Chapter Text

Foyet smiled when the phone rang. It was amazing how a small dose of fear could make people do exactly what one wanted them to. “Ma’am?” He asked in an anxious tone.

“I’m here.” Hotchner’s wife’s tearful voice came over the phone causing him to smile. “But there’s been a change of plans. Jack and I are at the Police Station.”

“Good, now…wait, what?”

“There was a police station just around the corner so we went there, instead.” Haley explained.

“Ma’am…I told you to wait for me!” George snapped. Damn it, why couldn’t the bitch just respect his authority?

“I know but we were so close to a police station that it seemed better than staying out in the open!” Haley said in a confident tone. “Anyway, I told the police that my husband had been killed by the Reaper and they called Witness Protection.” She paused. “I guess they didn’t give you the message.”

“Yeah,” Foyet said impatiently, “well, I was waiting for your call. I didn’t have time to take messages.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you should come here.”

He quickly thought it over. It would be easy enough to disappear again; he could wait. But they’d found him once and until he could be sure how, it wouldn’t be safe to settle down. Not to mention he couldn’t be sure she hadn’t already been in contact with Hotchner.” Actually, I think it would be better if you came to me. Uh…where are you?”

“The Police Station in the town I was hiding in!” Haley sighed. “I already told you that!”

‘Yeah, only I don’t know where that is!’ Foyet thought angrily. Aloud he said, “Right, right. Sorry. Uh…okay. How about downtown from where you and Aaron used to live? Have a police officer give Jack and you a ride in an unmarked car to the McDonalds. Have the officer leave so that you don’t stand out and order some food. You need your strength and it would look suspicious if you just stood around. I’ll keep an eye on the crowd there and I’ll call you when it’s safe to come out and meet me.”

“Alright.”

“Good. I’ll see you there.” Foyet hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d just stay out of sight and wait until he was sure that it wasn’t a set up. Then he could call her to come out to him, get her and the brat in his car, take them somewhere secluded, have her call Hotchner, kill them, and then take off. Not nearly as sophisticated as he had planned, but no one could have everything. He’d just have to make sure to rub it in when he came back for Hotchner.

…..

Five minutes later he was leaning against the wall of an alley near the center of the square, the hood of his jacket pulled over his head, and sunglasses over his eyes. The McDonalds was across the street and directly in his line of site. Foyet could see everyone that came up to the restaurant but they would have to have pretty good eyesight to see him as anything other than a shadowy figure against a wall. Now if only that- He straightened up as he saw a woman and a child exit a car that had just pulled up to the curb. The woman turned and glanced around the street worriedly, then scooped up the boy and hurried into the restaurant as the car pulled away. Foyet waited a bit but no one made any moves towards the two or seemed to be any more cautious so he stepped out of the alley and dialed the number on the back arrow of Kassmeyer’s phone. It rang once before it was picked up.

“Hello?” Haley’s voice came.

“Hello, Ma’am.” Foyet smiled. “Was that you and Jack that I just saw?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “We’re here. What do-“ Her voice broke. “What do you want us to do?”

“I want you to take a-“ George jumped as he felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against his temple.

“George Foyet,” A man’s voice said and Foyet turned to see one of the passerbys on the street with a gun in his hands. “Drop the phone and-“

‘Well, if this is it, I’m taking one of them out with me.’ Foyet thought and slipped his hand into-

BANG!

The man watched the body fall, and then reached forward to feel for a pulse. Shaking his head, he pulled out a walkie-talkie. “He’s dead.” Immediately SWAT started pouring out of the surrounding building and started calming people down. Rossi and Hotch appeared beside the man.

“What happened?” Rossi asked.

“H-he was reaching f-for his pocket.” The man stammered. “I-“

Hotch clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Some store should have it on camera. They still-“

“AARON!” Haley’s shrill voice called across.

“DADDY!” Jack seconded. Giving a quick glance both ways on the street, Aaron dashed across the street and scooped Jack and Haley into his arms. Foyet lay dead and harmless behind the family on the street.