Dr. Betty Morton

Watch Command May 3, 2016

1530 Hours

1

The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with cigarette smoke and air fresheners.

"This can't be happening," said Maxine.

She continued to read and scan the first letter, front and back. She tugged at her tight tie and constricting collar, the fabric scratching against her skin. Gasping for air, she felt a weight pressing down on her chest as if the very atmosphere had grown into blackness.

As her anxiety spiked, her face drained of color, and her lips turned a pale shade.

She continued to read to herself.

Forgive me for the informality of a letter instead of speaking in person. I believe the more you read, the more you'll understand that I cannot talk visage to visage.

I have recently been born again into a realm of the supernatural. Some would say that it has resurrected me in the spirit of loup-garou.

Maxine turned the letter over, then moved to the next and the last. She scanned the text, her eyes darting across the page, searching for key phrases and words to serve as some sort of lifeline.

What she found horrified her.

Why am I involved in this? Is this punishment for loving Kelly? It can't be. I need to stop.

"There's three," she said. "The author outlines three different kills and refers to them as his 'young one,' his 'prissy one,' and his 'lanky one.'"

She pulled on her collar again, feeling that it had taken the stead of X-4's hand in strangling her.

The letters quivered in her fingers, their delicate paper whispering in her mind. Shallow breaths escaped her lips, carrying the scent of anxiety.

Kelly was quick to act. He took hold of her hands and placed them on the desk. Since he wasn't wearing gloves, he couldn't touch the letters.

When she put them down in front of Chaney, she grabbed her tie with both hands and tugged.

"Okay, first of all," said Kelly. "You're getting out of the long sleeve and dropping the tie. Do you have your summer's yet?"

Maxine gave a small nod, but the letters consumed her attention, and she couldn't tear herself away.

"Go put on your short sleeves. You've graduated," he said.

Only an FTO could say when a boot could wear the uniform of the day and stop the tie and long-sleeve look.

"Agreed," said Chaney. "Go change, McMenamin."

Maxine's heart fluttered with hesitation as she approached the door, her gaze lingering on the desk. Her eyes fixated on the cluttered surface, each letter holding a secret.

As she stood frozen, Kelly stepped into her line of sight, his warm touch grounding Maxine as she grasped her trembling shoulders.

"Go get changed, boot," he said. "They'll be here when you get back."

After Maxine disappeared from view, Kelly circled around Chaney's desk, who remained engaged in a phone conversation with Major Case.

Chaney pulled open the drawer, knowing Kelly was coming for the latex gloves. As he handed him the box, they exchanged a quick glance. Chaney's eyes widened, his brows furrowed, and he held a broad frown.

Before gloving up, Kelly took his cell from his pocket, swiped it, and opened a new text thread.

Dad, Uncle Mike,

ME Max just got a letter from X-4. It outlines three of his murders. You need to get here asap before the dipshit crew gets called in.

He put his cell on Chaney's desk and picked up the letters. He was frantic in searching them for something that could give better insight.

"Oh shit, Lieu," he said. "The third letter is dated yesterday, May second."

Kelly read aloud as MC put Chaney on hold.

"As I watched your assailant, his vicious attack, and the subsequent injury he caused you, it almost brought me from the shadows." Kelly skimmed the paragraph until its conclusion. "Oh, here you go...I watched your hero cry out, 'Max, Max, Maxine,' before ordering Officer Keegs to give flight."

"That makes no sense," said Chaney. "And Major Case isn't getting here for at least half an hour. Unbelievable."

Kelly shuffled the letters until he saw the first page with his introduction to Max.

"Listen to this Lieu," he said. He cleared his voice as he felt the tension rising in his throat.

"They would give themselves willingly until succumbing to a contrite spirit and rededication to spend their remaining days in solitude and service."

Chaney moved the phone's mouthpiece to his chin, nodded, and sighed.

"What, is this guy a hermit?" he said. A voice answered on the other end, and Chaney straightened up, speaking in formality. "Yes...Captain Kelly, we have a problem."

2

Maxine walked into the bullpen to find Chaney and the Kellys. She saw the letters laid next to each other on a plastic folding table covered with a white protective plastic sheet. Small tent-shaped evidence markers showed the dates the letters were written, and they sealed them in a clear folder.

Fresh in her short-sleeved uniform, she paused. Though relieved from the constricting tie and collar, she could still feel X-4's presence.

The whiteboard had just been wiped, and she saw an unfamiliar handwriting that outlined the Unsub profile. From behind Captain Kelly, a woman emerged.

"Officer McMenamin," said Chaney. "This is Dr. Betty Morgan. The Mayor brought her in to consult."

"Don't worry," said Kelly. He smirked as he opened his tobacco pouch and did his thing. Once the wad was secure in his mouth, he spoke.

"She's not a FED, so we're good. But she's connected to the Mayor, so we're not so good."

His comments drew a glare from his uncle, a chuckle from his father, and an eye roll from Lieutenant Chaney.

Dr. Morton was elegant and statuesque, standing tall at five foot ten. Her figure was slim and tight. But her most striking features were her silvery blonde hair, impeccably styled in an updo, and her mesmerizing hazel eyes. An older woman, no doubt in her late sixties, possessed an air of grace and confidence that demanded attention.

Kelly offered Maxine a seat as she walked down the aisle to the front. She refused with a nod and rubbed her arms.

"Have you read all the letters yet?" said Dr. Morton.

As she moved away from the whiteboard, she stepped to the front of the table. Maxine looked at them, shivering. The handwriting was immaculate and at a perfect forty-five-degree angle. The swoops and swirls reflected an articulate man who wrote in a seventeenth-century style.

"No," she said. "But I've seen enough to know that this is an educated man, bordering on a scholar."

Dr. Morton smiled and pointed at her written assessment on the whiteboard.

"Unsub X-4's profile suggests that he's manipulating, ruthless, and obsessive." She sat on the corner of the table and crossed her ankles. "He's approximately five foot-ten, of average build, and can blend effortlessly into a crowd. And we know he's most likely a combat Marine with the training that goes with that title."

Kelly's dad opened and took a report from a file he was holding. He glanced at it and then looked at Dr. Morton.

"The coroner says that the blade used to kill his victims is 1.188 inches wide, 7 inches in length with an edge angle of twenty degrees to a clip point. Consistent with that of a USMC-issued K-BAR."

He gave the report to Dr. Morton, who perused it in an instant.

"No DNA yet?" she said.

Kelly's father shook his head and pursed his lips.

"But the precision of his blade insertion between C-1 and C-2 vertebrates suggests some medical training."

The room was quiet as Kelly retreated to his mind's eye.

The skirmish hole, grenade sump, the DNCs. Medical training.

"This guy's a Navy Corpsman," he snapped. "He'd have all the combat training we would but know exactly where to penetrate the spine for an immediate kill."

"What makes you say that?" said Dr. Morton.

Kelly didn't want to share because he didn't want to go back to that place in Afghanistan and the moment he killed that T-Man.

He could smell the filth of the region, the moondust that covered everything, and the sound of his K-BAR tearing through that terrorist neck and throat.

And he didn't want to say anything in front of Maxine. He was content in knowing that Johnny Keegan kept this secret, and he couldn't share it with anyone else.

"Well," he said. "When in Afghanistan, our Devil Doc explained that for an immediate kill with a bladed weapon, aim for C-1 or C-2. And I have to tell you how difficult it is when the shit's in the fan."

Once again, the room was quiet. Dr. Morton looked at Kelly and then back at the board. She gave Maxine a quick smile before she stood. She stepped to the whiteboard, picked up the eraser, and extended her hand to wipe and write.

"Marine/Navy Corpsman," she said and capped the marker.

Kelly snapped his fingers into his palm, feeling a bit of anxiety. When Dr. Morton put the marker down on the board's ledge, he stepped ahead. He leaned over, took the marker, uncapped it, and wrote in big, bold letters.

"ETHAN MARTIN."

3

Maxine didn't move as the Kellys left the room. They were planning a move against Ethan Martin and hurried to Chaney's office.

She leaned on the table and read the letters. They were familiar, but she couldn't make sense of it. She felt Dr. Morton's stare bearing down on her as if she was waiting for Maxine to figure something out.

"These letters," she said. "I'm not sure they match X-4's profile."

Maxine looked up at Dr. Morton, who walked beside her, putting her reading glasses on.

"The letter written yesterday refers to his witch as mon Ancienne Sorcière, French for my ancient witch."

Maxine turned the letter over and skimmed it. She looked up and down before finding another phrase. "And here, look. Some would say it has resurrected me in the spirit of loup-garou."

Dr. Morton straightened up and sighed. She put her hand to her forehead and then rushed to the whiteboard. She wrote the two phrases and stared.

"Loup-garou is French," said Maxine. "It means werewolf."

Dr. Morton scribbled in haste before stepping back from the board. Her head moved from left to right as she fiddled with the marker and cap.

"We have another Unsub, don't we?" asked Maxine.

Dr. Morton extended her arms backward, placing her palms on the table. She tilted her head back, showing the tightness of her updo. She shut her eyes and turned to face the letters on the clear plastic sheet.

"I don't know yet," said Dr. Morton. "But if we do, he's like a shadow, always hidden and shrouded in blackness."