Pearce Hudson: #1 My Italian Devil

2. Dear husband

I swerved to miss a car as I passed the red light. The car honked loudly as I passed by. The car jolted. Jones sitting beside me gripped the seat tightly. 

"Pearce maybe slow down?"

"At this moment Derek whatever you're saying is going into one ear and coming out the other."

"Pearce he's not going anywhere."

I glanced at my friend for a split second, "Yeah he's not going anywhere."

I pulled up to the gates of the FBI HQ. The soldiers at the gate got out of their little security box with bomb detectors and German Shepherds.

"Can you hurry up please?"

"Mandatory process ma'am. Please be patient," the soldier said.

I punched the steering wheel angrily. The gates opened up and I sped through, randomly parking in the most available spot. I jumped out the car not bothering to lock the car. Jones tailed me. We raced through the lobby knocking over and pushing past anyone in our way. We made our way to the elevator. I leaned against the elevator catching my breath, my eyes on the floor number. 7, 8, 9, 10......

"Pearce are you ready for this?" Jones asked.

"I've waited five years Derek."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened up. I made a dash for it knocking over a man heading towards the glass doors. I had seen him around, he was a new analyst. The man dropped an armful of files onto the floor. I hesitated before going through the doors. I wanted to help but I really had to go. I gave him a small smile that said 'I'm sorry'.

Jordan Gibson was a man in his late forties with salt and pepper hair and brown eyes. He was one of FBIs best recruits with numerous cases under his belt. Now, he was the head of one of the BAU units me and Jones were part of. We bustled into his office.

I breathlessly said, "Is he really back?"

Gibson stood up, "He is."

Jones and I took a seat as Gibson explained the situation.

"One of our analysts were upgrading files when this picture threw a red flag," Gibson handed us a grainy surveillance photo from the Logan International Airport in Boston. It was difficult to see but I could make out the man. His hair was slicked back, he had on black sunglasses and a black coat. Even though the photo was black and white, I knew the exact color of his skin, hair and eyes.

"It's him," I confirmed.

"Mr. Newman glad you could make it," Gibson spoke up.

I looked back. It was the analyst I had knocked over. He was around my age with golden brown hair and green eyes. He was tall, at least over six feet. He wore blue jeans, a graphic T-shirt and sneakers.

"Hudson, Jones meet Jake Newman," Gibson introduced. "Jake came directly from CalTech. He's the one who discovered the photo."

"Nice to meet you," Jake said.

"So what's our play, what do we do?" Jones asked.

"I called the rest of the team," Gibson informed, he looked at me. "We'll catch him."

The rest of the team was late and a little drunk. They gathered in the conference room. The team consisted of Vivian Morgan the communications liaison, Brad Ross and Jared Green.

"What was so urgent boss?" Ross asked. 

"We have a case," Gibson replied. 

"Couldn't it wait till tomorrow?"

"No it couldn't," Gibson motioned to Jake.

"Meet Dante Capaldi," Jake started. A full color picture of him popped up on the screen. "35 year old American-Italian drugs, arms, and sex trafficker based in Boston. He is one of the most notorious traffickers. He has also been connected to many murders."

"If he's so notorious why hasn't he been caught yet?" Green asked as the picture changed to a gruesome crime scene photo. 

"Because there's no evidence," Gibson said. "That connects him to anything. There were witnesses but they 'died' a few days before trial."

As Jake spoke more pictures of Capaldi filled the screen. I didn't need to see it, I had them memorized. "The call him," Jake said flipping through a file.

"Diavolo Italiano," I said in an Italian accent. "The Italian Devil."

"Yes," Jake agreed. "Anyways in 2011 he fled the country because evidence connecting him to sex trafficking had surfaced. His last known location was at a Villa in Italy."

"Now he's back?" Ross said. 

"This picture was taken at Logan Airport 10 hours ago," Jake pointed to the grainy picture. 

"It's been 5 years why come back here? Why come back at all?" Green asked. 

"The statute of limitations is 5 years," Vivian sighed. "On sex trafficking."

"But he has to know the FBI will be all over him," Green shrugged. "Does he think he can restart his trafficking ring again."

"We think he's back for his wife," Jake slowly said. No picture of the wife showed on the screen. 

"Someone actually married this monster," Green burst out. 

"Me," I whispered.

"What?" Ross arched hiss eyebrows.

"Dante Capaldi is," I gulped. "My husband."