Annabel Lee ─ emily prentiss

one

DUTCHESS County, New York. The first thing Emily noticed as they walked up to Annabel Welhaven's small house was how well-kept it was. The grass was perfectly mowed, every piece cropped to the same length. Somehow, the blue paint had no dirt or wear. The bushes beneath the front windows were perfectly trimmed too, and the mulch they were planted in looked fresh. It probably should have been impressive, but really, it was just unsettling.

"Talk about the white-picket-fence kind of life." Morgan surveyed the property, which was literally surrounded by a white-picket-fence.

"Not for her," Emily reminded him. According to the police, Bel was a foster child, and it seemed like the foster parents left something to be desired. When the police called Carrie Howell to inform her that a witness saw her foster daughter get abducted, she didn't have a hint of concern in her voice. She and her husband couldn't have cared less when they finally agreed to come to the police station and left as soon as allowed. This would have been concerning at any time, but considering the fact that the recent abduction-murders were big news, it was even worse.

Morgan rang the doorbell. Maybe twenty seconds later, a tall middle-aged woman answered the door. She looked them up and down.

"Can I help you?" she asked pointedly.

"Agents Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan, FBI." Emily flashed her badge, and Morgan did the same. "Are you Carrie Howell?"

"Yes." Carrie nodded. "What do you want?"

Nothing about her indicated concern or stress or any emotion you'd expect from a woman whose foster daughter might be captured by a serial killer. If anything, she looked annoyed.

"We were wondering if we could ask you some questions about Annabel, maybe take a look at her room," Morgan said.

"We've already told the police everything we know," Carrie insisted, starting to shut the door, "which is nothing. They have her backpack and her phone. I don't know what else you people want from us."

"We want you to help us find your foster daughter." Emily jammed the door open with her shoe. "Can we at least take a quick look at her bedroom?"

"Just let them in or they'll never leave us alone," a man's annoyed voice ordered from somewhere inside the house. Carrie rolled her eyes, but she stepped aside, allowing them in. They entered into the living room, where a stubble-faced man about Carrie's age sat on the couch watching the news. He turned the TV off and stood up. "We already spoke to the police. There's nothing we can tell you that we haven't already told them, and there's nothing for you to find in this house."

Emily surveyed the room. Like the exterior, it was well-kept. Clean, orderly, not an item out of place. Nothing hung on the beige walls besides a single crucifix. This place gave her the creeps.

"We'd like to determine that for ourselves. Can I see Annabel's bedroom?" she asked. It was unlikely, but maybe they'd get lucky and find that Bel had prior contact with the UnSub or the other victims—anything to point them in the right direction.

Carrie narrowed her eyes.

"Why?"

"It's procedure, ma'am. "

Carrie gritted her teeth, accepting that Emily wasn't going to back down. "Follow me."

Leaving Morgan to get whatever he could out of who she presumed was Fred Howell, Emily let Carrie lead her through the house. As they passed the kitchen, Emily noticed padlocks on all of the cabinets. She had a hunch that if that woman hadn't heard Bel's screaming, the Howells wouldn't have reported her missing for days, if ever.