[Comprehensive English and American] Everything has a trajectory

Bar. ' George Foyet said to her from behind the door.

Chapter 9

He had just returned from dealing with a serial killer who threw dozens of victims into a pigsty, only to find that the apartment opposite him had become a crime scene.

Find the area of ​​the psychological shadow.

Behind the wide open door was a blood-stained beige carpet, and the yellow cordon rustled in the draft.There was no sign of the owner around, and a medical examiner was moving a black body bag out the door.

It's like the heart is tied to a heavy object and sinks to the bottom of the water, and it's like the hollow panic of the heartbeat collapsing.

"FBI." Hotch finally reacted and stopped the medical examiner, flashing his badge, "I need to see this corpse."

Watching George Foyet's thin and blank face emerge from the opened body bag, with a blood hole between his brows, Hotch didn't feel any relief at this moment.

"Is there another body?" Hotch asked calmly, as if watching himself from another place.

"No. But I heard the other one was taken to the hospital in a less favorable condition."

The forensic doctor quickly left with the body. Hotch turned to stop the police officer who was walking behind the corpse with a sullen look on his face, "May I ask what happened here?"

The police officer looked him up and down, and finally said slowly: "You also live in this building, right? The owner of this room was attacked by a psychopath with a knife." The police officer touched the walkie-talkie at his waist, "In She was stabbed several times in the stomach and bled profusely. But the FBI was very powerful, so she managed to shoot the psychopath twice, one in the shoulder and one between the eyebrows."

"Annabelle Graham, we work together." Hotch frowned. "How is she now?"

Any idea that comes close to reason seems too scary.

"Ah, I just heard that her operation is over." The police officer patted his stomach, finally showing a satisfied relief, "There will be some scars, but she will survive."

This kind of self-defense case is easy to judge.

A negotiator who can write textbooks for the FBI almost has a heart attack.

Annabelle, who was lying on the hospital bed over there, was so idle that she started studying the lift button beside her.The effects of the anesthesia had begun to wear off, and heart-wrenching was definitely a euphemism.

She made a few phone calls before getting bored enough to play with the hospital bed.The director of the college and the forensic department understood her injury very well, and immediately gave her a leave of absence and reassured her not to worry.

Inexplicably, I began to feel that being stabbed a few times was not a serious matter.Everyone seems to have a very complete plan for this situation.

It wasn't until he rose to the bed that he saw Hotch's cold face.

I was so scared that the wound was about to burst.

"You know George Foyet, but you let him into your apartment anyway." Hotch frowned tightly, his expression showing that the matter was serious.

Really good focus.

All the opening remarks she had thought of were in vain.

"Foyet saw me, and knows I saw him." Annabelle thought for a while, and finally shrugged indifferently, "I'm a blemish in his plan. He's going to do it anyway."

You might as well be more proactive, right?

"What the hell happened?" Hotch's eyes fell on the location of her wound. "I know you were shot three times and shot him twice. How did it happen?"

"I forgot my mobile phone at home, and when I came back to get it, I didn't remember to lock the door, and then he broke in." Annabelle repeatedly reduced her role in this process.

"continue."

"I dodged the first time he came through the door, but behind it was uh-" Annabelle shrugged again, "I got my chance after the third cut, kicked him away and ducked back. I was under the kitchen counter There's a gun. First the shoulder, he didn't stop and he took out the gun again, so it's between the eyebrows."

This is a very careless description from a five-dimensional creature.

Annabelle saw the meaning of "your focus is completely wrong" in Hotch's eyes, so she cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment.

"You're taking too much risk." Hotch stood by the bed, looking at her disapprovingly

"From a man who negotiates with a suspect without a gun." Annabelle raised her eyebrows and looked at Hotch provocatively. "I feel the power of being persuaded."

"That's it? Did Foyet say anything to you?" Hotch wanted to sigh, half out of relief, half out of resignation.

"Oh he's full of crap, but I'm mostly distracted by what he's going to do next." Annabelle's pretty much out of the press, feeling like a relief after a big exam, " I remember him asking if he knew how many times he could stab me and still keep me alive, but then changed his mind and said it was just for you. Well, I almost told him it's no big deal, and I do too get."

Maybe she really said it, or she would probably be stabbed less.

I always feel that if this continues, Hotch will not be able to resist beating her.

Right now, the other party just rubbed between his brows, "Did he say more? About how to deal with me."

"He's dead, does it matter?" Annabelle wanted to stretch but found that the wound might be torn, so she could only shrink back under Hotch's warning eyes, "He asked me if I cared about you .”

In a very neurotic tone.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, "Then?"

"And then I gave him a second shot." Annabelle blinked at him innocently, her gray irises very pale in the white light of the hospital, and her pupils dark.

"Anna—" Hotch's tone bordered on something dangerous.

"Please." Unable to change positions anyway, Annabelle gave up and lay down on the pillow, "Isn't the answer obvious? I don't care about you, why should you still care about him?"

Hotch shook his head and helped Anna adjust the position of the blanket and pillow.And she just blinked at him, moving her back or her arms obediently now and then.

"What's wrong?" Hotch couldn't help sighing at last.

"It's nothing, I just think it's good to be alive." Annabelle narrowed her eyes, like a cat whose chin has been scratched.

Everything has infinite possibilities.

"Have a good rest." Hotch smoothed Anna's long hair scattered on the pillow, gently and patiently, "Is there anything I can do?"

"I want cheese sticks." Annabelle let out a long sigh, "but the nurse said no. How about you get the carpet cleaned for me?"

Hotch nodded with a slight smile, curling his knuckles on the pillow and gently brushing her cheek.

"You look tired." Successfully diluting the seriousness of the situation at hand, Annabelle softened her tone and reached out to hold his hand, "Is this a bad case?"

"Sometimes you've done everything right and still feel like you've failed. Too many lives have been completely changed by one or two people." Hotch didn't share details, only the frustration of tightening the grip.

Sometimes they just can't help.

Anna actually knew.She was called by the supervisor during her vacation because 89 corpses flooded into the forensics department's system along with one case.

"Go to sleep," but that was all she said at last.

There are more people in this world whose fate will be changed, for better or for worse, or difficult to discern.

Chapter 10

Guess Foyet's death greatly reduced the shock level of the whole thing, and it all slipped away quietly. Annabelle is young and in good health, and her wounds heal quickly.In theory, she didn't have to go out to work, so she was allowed to go back to work by the doctor in less than a month.

Fully aware of the difficulty of two people who work for the FBI dating regularly.

During this time, Hotch followed several cases in a row.Of course Annabelle herself is very busy.The new semester started again in the college, and by the way, she didn't have time to prepare the lesson plans at all.Consultants do not need to sit in the office every day, but as long as they walk into the office, they will find a lot of forensics waiting to be done.

But it's just the norm of life.

The deviation started one day when Garcia cheerfully dragged Annabelle to the bar in the middle of overtime.

To be honest, Annabelle was a little embarrassed to join the BAU party, and always felt that she should not be here.

But then again, she felt that she shouldn't be here at any party.Embarrassed and embarrassed, I got used to it.

And Annabelle has a high alcohol tolerance.It won't be embarrassing at all when everyone is drunk and I am awake alone.

It's also magical genetics.

It's especially ironic that Annabelle didn't begin to understand who her father really was until she was 16 years old.

Further fully realizing that she was a loving little bastard before.

Now, who knows?

"Someone bought a glass for this beautiful young lady." The bartender pushed the glass to Annabelle, smiling ambiguously.

Reid, who was chatting with Annabelle about the technical analysis of throwing darts, looked in the direction the bartender was gesturing with her.

“I thought it was alcohol not to buy alcohol for women who were obviously accompanied