Chapter Text
The BAU conference room smelled faintly of coffee and antiseptic, the kind of sterile environment that made you focus—or gave you a headache, depending on how many cups of caffeine you’d already downed. JJ sat at her usual spot, her laptop open, a notepad already half-filled with impressions from the morning briefing. Rossi was going on about behavioral patterns in organized crime, Prentiss had that thoughtful, barely-contained intensity in her gaze, and Reid… well, Reid was Reid—frowning at a map of the city like it was going to tell him all the answers if he stared hard enough.
JJ flipped open the file labeled “Case #1527 – East Side Homicide Series”. Three victims over the past month, all found near the riverfront, all linked to a crime syndicate that had slipped under the radar until now.
“Weapon?” she asked, scanning the sheets.
Rossi lifted an eyebrow. “Always a blunt object. Brutal, messy. We’re not talking amateurs, and they aren’t sloppy by accident. This is ritualistic.”
JJ nodded slowly, jotting notes. But something else snagged her attention. A subfile marked “Witness/Person of Interest – Emily S.”
Her heart skipped—not in that way, but in that “wait, why do I know this name?” kind of way. She clicked it open.
Interpol had sent over a notice: Emily Summers, special operations, undercover assignments in Europe, current location unknown but recently spotted near some criminal hubs in the city. And now… she was on the BAU radar. “Potential suspect.”
JJ frowned. Her instincts prickled. Emily wasn’t someone you called a suspect lightly. She was precise, intelligent, sharp. She didn’t make mistakes that left her standing in a crime scene with a bloody print on her glove. But the file said otherwise.
Prentiss caught her hesitation. “Something on your mind, JJ?”
JJ shook her head. “Just… the person of interest. Emily Summers. Interpol. Seems odd that she’s showing up in multiple crime locations.”
“Odd?” Rossi leaned back. “She’s a suspect now. Maybe she’s dirty.”
JJ’s stomach twisted. No way. Not Emily.
She couldn’t explain why she felt that certainty, not without sounding ridiculous. And besides, she had no proof, just instincts.
Later that evening, the office had emptied. JJ stayed behind, reviewing surveillance photos. A tiny, flickering movement on the riverfront street camera caught her eye. A woman, tall, confident stride, a trench coat brushing the night air. She paused under a streetlight, glanced around, then disappeared into the shadows.
JJ’s chest tightened. That silhouette—she knew it. Couldn’t be. Could it?
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. She hesitated, then answered.
“Hello?”
A low, familiar voice, smooth and teasing: “You look serious when you’re staring at screens like that. You should lighten up, JJ.”
JJ’s hand froze. The voice… it couldn’t be. “Who is this?”
“You don’t know me,” the voice said, perfectly calm, almost cocky. “But I know you’re looking at me. Not quite right, is it?”
JJ’s heart thumped. “This isn’t funny. Who is this?”
A soft chuckle, low and playful. “Careful, you sound like someone trying to solve a puzzle they don’t have all the pieces for.”
JJ’s fingers tightened around the phone. There was something familiar in that cadence, a sly humor she couldn’t place, a confidence that reminded her of… no, she couldn’t.
“I’m serious,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny.”
“Not a joke.” Pause. “You want a hint? There’s a warehouse on 5th near the river. They’re moving tonight. Watch the docks.”
JJ blinked. Her mind raced. That location hadn’t even been on the BAU’s radar. If the tip was real… if it wasn’t a trap…
“Why are you telling me this?” Her voice was lower now, cautious.
A pause. Then: “Let’s just say I like seeing you solve problems. You’re good at it.”
JJ’s stomach twisted again, an uncomfortable warmth. “And you are…?”
Another soft laugh. “I’ll let you figure that one out. Just… trust me on this. Check the docks. Midnight. Alone.”
Before she could respond, the line clicked dead.
JJ stared at her phone, disbelief and confusion warring with something else—something she couldn’t name. Her pulse didn’t settle. Her mind didn’t settle. And yet, she found herself smiling faintly, even though she knew she probably shouldn’t.
Midnight. The riverfront docks. JJ parked the car a few blocks away, scanning the dark streets. The fog curled along the river like smoke from a fire. She stayed in the shadows, her BAU training making her hyper-aware of every sound—the slap of her shoes against the wet pavement, the distant hum of a boat engine.
Nothing. For a moment, she thought she’d been duped. Then movement—a figure slipping between the containers. A coat, tall frame, confident. Heart racing, JJ realized… she recognized the gait.
Before she could approach, her phone buzzed again. Unknown number.
“Did you make it?”
JJ exhaled sharply. “Yeah. You’re reckless.”
“Only a little,” the voice said, soft and amused. “Keep your eyes open. And JJ?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t trust the files. Not all of them.”
JJ froze. Files. Files she’d been staring at for hours. The ones saying Emily Summers was a suspect. Her heart twisted. Could this really be Emily?
Then the line went dead again.
JJ stood there, staring at the shadows, knowing that she’d just been drawn into something bigger than herself. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want it to end.
By the time she returned to her car, the first tendrils of attraction—and worry—had taken root. The mystery caller had a rhythm to her teasing, a confidence JJ couldn’t ignore. She told herself it was professional curiosity, nothing more.
Yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, a single, dangerous thought whispered:
Emily Summers is trouble. And I’m already in too deep.