Chapter Text
“Miss Stark, I requested that you not talk to the press until my team landed in Dallas.”
Agent JJ Jareau’s words were barked, rather like a bowling ball hurled at someone’s head. She was restless and frustrated – disheartened by the endless stream of bodies in Dallas.
Her eyes fastened on the merciless blonde before her. The woman’s eyes drilled into JJ like nails. Her resolve was similar – steely, formidable. No matter the heat of a topic, she wore a vibrant smile and kept her voice even, smooth. Her hands were wrought around a steaming mug of what JJ could only presume to be coffee.
Though, given the fermented stench lofting from it, she was suspicious if coffee was the only substance.
“No, you told me to give you twelve hours,” the blonde executive, Dianna Stark, said with ease. An oaky southern accent coated her voice. “And I gave you it, unwillingly, and here we are, fifteen hours later. The wolves were banging down the door, Agent Jareau.”
“My team was supposed to be here twelve hours ago, but their plane got delayed,” JJ argued. “We needed more time.”
The blonde executive laughed, hands jostled the fluids within her porcelain mug. Bracken fluid oozed down the sides.
“That’s not my problem.”
“Excuse me?” JJ’s cheek bore a distinct redness. “You are legally obligated to assist our investigation. We need your company’s cooperation.”
“Without me you wouldn’t have any cooperation at all.”
JJ cocked a flaxen eyebrow, mouth agape.
“I am the communications representative for Hartford Steel,” Stark continued. “Like you, I juggle a lot of responsibility. Everything I do is subject to higher scrutiny. Unlike you, however, my job is predicated on protecting the reputation of my company so that it may generate money, profit. Those who generate profit are my suppliers and employees. What would happen to them, I wonder, if I allowed our name to be tossed around the news negatively? I am the master manipulator, Agent Jareau, and without my cooperation the men in this company will eat you alive.”
Jureau nodded curtly, cocked her head to the side. “But you called a press conference before we could safeguard Hartford’s reputation.”
Stark offered JJ an ironic smile.
“Larger fish in the sea, Miss Jareau.”
“Your boss is in no position to override authorities.”
“He arranged it with Dallas officials privately.”
“We oversee this case now, not Dallas PD,” JJ said quickly, patience waning.
“Yes, well, you tell that to Dallas PD,” Stark mused. She knew damn well that Williams had connections that superseded any request of the BAU. Not to mention, Texans never did take well to the invention of government hussies.
Stark was rather fond of Agent Jareau. In the full twenty hours she’d known her, that is. JJ wielded excellent professional and personal command. She was efficient, swift. In another life, Stark thought, the two would be friends.
JJ smiled. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
“Nevertheless, I do seek your boss’ full cooperation and trust. It will make this whole case run a lot smoother.”
Stark doubted that.
In fact, she found herself doubting most things that week. Her job, her vitality, her rigor. The intensity at which she ran through her duties was dizzying, particularly in the last four days.
She remembered the day vividly – the day the demons of hell thrust forth from their fiery cage, fangs tearing into her flesh.
The way she heard it – and she’d heard it an infinite amount of times – the morning laborers shuffled into the Hartford’s central mill and found a certain metallic odor wafting through the rafters. The workers investigation, of which it didn’t take long to find the source of the foul stench: a deceased body wedged near the ear loading dock. She’d refused to see the police photographs, but Stark’s imagination was vivid enough. The victim was female, strangled and the autopsies revealed sexual battery.
Before mill workers called Stark, they called the authorities. The effect was stifling and disdain expediently rippled through the company’s bureaucracy. Jed Williams – the company’s CEO – was particularly irate. Against Stark’s insistence, she should add.
Good men lost jobs that day; innocent women lost their lives.
It was an utter disaster, Stark thought.
The bodies flowed after that. The next day, another body was discovered in the same loading bay. The day following, another body outside the factory parking lot. All the bodies were rich, upper-class wives of Dallas Executives.
The murders hit the news immediately. Production was suspended in the area until further investigation. After a lost battle with the feds, Dallas PD ushered in the BAU; Jareau knocked on Claire’s hour with an hour of the decision.
Stark was beginning to wither under duress. Her eyes drooped, and her words lacked their usual precision. It was the consequence of her position, she supposed. She’d seldom abandoned her office in 48 hours, and when she did, it was to burst into Jed Williams’ office to bluster and chastise.
Her was adamantly against the cooperation with the FBI. He’d fought to stave them off and when he’d lost the battle Stark’s sanity was the object of his vexation. While JJ fought Stark, Stark fought Williams, the press and Hartford’s business contacts.
Jed warned her against cooperating with the FBI, despite the inclination of her job to do so. Every call was filled with ceaseless bellowing and demands.
Stark had been so boggled with work, she hadn’t left the office in 48 hours. She was weary, and her boss – Jedediah Williams, COO of Hartford Steel– was obtuse. He was adamant against cooperation which left Stark in a precarious predicament. While JJ fought Stark, Stark fought Williams, the press and Hartford’s suppliers. She was appetizer for an inevitable feast of predators.
Not that this was new, she mused silently.
“I’ll see what I can do.”