STOP MOTION
Chapter 1
Getting Acquainted

"Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes." – Oscar Wilde

Aaron Hotchner was in the firing range. His firing arm had been compromised during the last case with Lomax, and he needed all the practice he could get. He drew the target towards him, and was not happy with what he saw. Nine out of ten were hitting the target with the accuracy that he called upon himself to attain. The one poor shot could be a civilian's life, or even the life of a team member. With a sigh he loaded up and started again.

He was here against the advice of his doctor, but the case required his full team and no one was expendable.

Absently he rubbed his right upper arm. He was no longer required to have it in a sling, but the metal plate was still there and he could feel the bolts and rivets through the skin. It was still painful, and the doctors had both said he should at least wait until the plates were removed before he came back to work.

The next series of shots was like the others; ninety percent acceptable – to him that is. Most agents would be delighted with the score, only Rossi wouldn't be happy with it.

He threw down his ear protectors and goggles and left the range. In the lift he met Reid, just arriving at work.

'Morning Hotch,' he said cheerfully. 'Wasn't expecting you back so soon – not that we don't need you, but...... well.....' He trailed off realising that the sentence he had started had no where to safely go.

'I've read all the case files, and thought I could be of use.' Hotch understated. As soon as he was in the bull pen he called a meeting in the conference room in ten minutes. He called Dave and Todd, who were both glad to see him.

But first he went to see Garcia. He hadn't seen her since she left hospital a week before he did, and was a little nervous. It was out of character to feel like this, but he had no idea how she would respond to him.

She knew he was in – Morgan had warned her – and she swung her chair round and smiled, equally as nervously, Hotch thought.

'Morning Sir.' she said. 'Good to have you back. We weren't expecting you so soon.'

Oh. It was "Sir" again.

'There's a.... um..... meeting in ten minutes about the case. Would you like to join us?'

'I'll be right there.' she smiled.

Damn! She was so unreadable. But he had made the same mistake with Emily, and now she was with someone else.

He sighed and went out to the conference room where his team were gathering.

'Todd, as soon as Garcia get's here, bring us up to speed please.'

When the team were settled, Todd began.

'Victims, six so far, seem unrelated. Four men and two women. No sexual assault, all killed outside their homes on their way to work in broad daylight. One man was terminally ill in a wheel chair, shot when he was picked up for day care; The other three men died in their front yards, the women on the steps of their apartment buildings. Single gunshot to the upper chest, in four cases in the heart and death was instantaneous, the other two died on their way to hospital. All shot from the same gun, no connection yet.'

Garcia,' Hotch said, 'get a list of the victims and see what you can find.' He turned back to Todd who was handing out printed sheets. 'Locations?'

'Across three states. That's why they weren't connected for so long.'

'From the geographic profile, it seems that they are not random. These victims have been picked for some reason.' Reid said.

'So', continued Morgan, 'as soon as we have the reason, we have the next victim.'

Hotch went to the evidence board where six faces stared accusingly down at him. Then he turned back to the team.

'Four of the six are in the same state, the other two in adjacent states. Fifteen minutes, Wheels up. We're going to Colorado.'

-0-0-0-

One of the victims was from Denver, where the team were now heading, and it was one of the two closest together, and was fairly central. Hotch thought they would probably end up back in Quantico, but they liked to show their faces, as it seemed to help the local police if they could get to know them as people and not names on a computer screen. The Denver police were at the airport to meet them.

Hotch introduced his team.

'SSA Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Todd, and Dr Reid. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner. We would like to visit the crime scene right away please.'

'This SUV is at your disposal, Agent Hotchner. Our driver can take you there.'

'Thank you. Agent's Todd and Reid will go with you to set up; we'll meet back there in an hour.'

The team split up, and the driver took the four of them to the shady avenue where the shooting of Mr Albie Parker took place. It was in a leafy suburb of Denver, middle income wage earners, with two cars in most drives. Albie Parker's house was a corner plot with two dogs in the garden. Rossi went in first, and the dogs took an instant liking to him. Hotch walked past and knocked the door.

A middle aged woman came to the door, and after Hotch showed her his ID, introduced herself as Rene Parker, Albie's widow.

'Would you like to come on?' She stepped aside to allow Hotch and Rossi to enter the neat tastefully furnished house. Morgan and Prentiss stayed outside to look around.

'It doesn't make sense to me, Sir. Albie only had weeks to live. I was getting used to the idea that I was going to lose him, but not on the doorstep, not like this.'

'We are very sorry for your loss, Mrs Parker.' Hotch said, his dark eyes full of true sympathy. 'May I ask some questions that might help to catch the person who did this to you.'

'I told the other policeman everything I know.'

'These might be different questions, Ma'am. For example, how long have you lived here?'

'Oh thirty years, just over.' she said. 'We moved here when we got married, and lived in an apartment in Denver. Then fifteen years ago we bought this house. We have lived in Denver all our married life. Albie wanted to live by the sea but I didn't want to move.' Mrs Parker started to cry. Hotch touched her arm.

'I know this is hard for you Mrs Parker....'

'Rene, please.' She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

'Rene, can you tell us what work Albie did before he got sick?'

'He was a chartered surveyor. A good one too.' She seemed to cheer up remembering her husband in a different light. 'He loved his job.'

'Thank you. Rene.' Hotch said, standing up. He put his card on the table. 'If you want to tell us anything else, just call me, and I'll come and see you.'

Rene smiled at him. 'I'll do that. Thank you.'

-0-0-0-

They met up with Emily and Morgan outside, and Morgan pointed out the house opposite.

'The shot came from over there, in the garden.' he said. 'There's a clear shot to the front door. The shooter must have known Parker's habits. He rarely went out, except to day care once a week to give his wife a rest.'

How did he get away?' Dave asked.

'Motor bike. No description other than red.' Emily said. 'Seems people don't know their bikes like they know cars.'

'They've lived in Denver for thirty years.' Dave said. 'There are four victims in Denver. Maybe the others once lived here.' He pulled out his phone. 'I'll get Garcia on that.'

As they arrived back at the police HQ, Dave's cell rang. Garcia had some news.

'Angela Smith moved to Utah eleven years ago from Colorado.' Garcia said. 'Diana Stretton went to Nebraska in two thousand and six from, you guessed it, Colorado.'

They were all sitting around a table in the tiny room kindly donated by the Denver police. They were not getting welcome vibes off the cops, but then they were used to that. They had bigger cupboards in Quantico.

'So all our victims once lived in Colorado.' Hotch said. 'Reid, draw up a new geographic profile on the addresses they had in this state.'

'It seems we have a link, albeit a tenuous one.' Dave said. 'There has to be more though.'

'Todd and Prentiss, go and secure our hotel rooms and then come back here.' Hotch said 'Dave and Morgan, would you get in touch with the Nebraska and Utah police and find out what Angela Smith and Diana Stretton did for a living while they were in Colorado. There could be a link there. I'm going to have a chat with the Denver cops to find out where this hostility is coming from and try to assure them that we are all on the same side.'

His team dispersed, and Hotch was left on his own. He hated it when the police were hostile to their efforts; the media portrayal of the FBI didn't help. With a sigh, trying to look diplomatic, he left the tiny room and walked across to where the coffee machine was. A couple of cops were chatting there,ahe Hotch recognised them as the one's who answered Rene Parkers 911 call. The two cops fell silent as he approached.

'Aaron Hotchner.' he said extending his hand. He winced as a pain shot up his arm and across his shoulder.

'Terry and my partner Bern.' Terry said but he didn't shake Hotch's hand. Hotch let his arm drop awkwardly.

'We aren't here to ride roughshod over you and your work here.' he said. 'We are a resource. Please use us as such.'

'Well', Bern said, 'we're off now. We stop for a drink at the Eagle – the cop's bar – on the way home. It was us answered the call to the Parker's place. We could have a chat there. You wanna tag along?'

It was not what Hotch expected, but he agreed to go since it was only a hundred yards or so down the road. He followed Terry and Bern out of the building into the evening air. The air smelled clean and fresh after the cramped conditions in the 'cupboard' and Hotch enjoyed the walk. The cops didn't have anything useful to tell him though, and two hours and four tonic and lemons later, he bid them good night and began the short walk back to the police HQ.

The walk took him across a bridge that passed over a brook, and Hotch stopped for a moment to watch the water. He immediately thought of Jack, and how he'd be down the bank and in the mud before he could stop him. He smiled, remembering the last time he took Jack out to the zoo and it was as much as he could do to keep him out of the penguin pool. He laughed out loud at the memory.

It was a bitter sweet memory though. There weren't enough of those times any more. He made a promise to do something mucky with Jack next time. Let him get really dirty, and then have the pleasure of cuddling him dry after the bath at the end of the day. Perfect.

He turned away from the water and noticed two men standing watching him on the side walk in front of him. He hesitated for a moment, and decided that discretion being the better part of valour, he should cross over and pass them on the opposite side of the road. As he crossed, and the two men crossed also, he realised that he wasn't going to be able to avoid them after all. He had his hand ready to draw when something stuck in his back.

' I am an FBI agent.' he said, hoping that this would prevent a mugging.

'We know who you are.' the voice behind him said, and a hand snaked round and took his gun.

Then they were on him. Two men behind him grabbed his arms, and the ones in front took turns in punching his face. Blood sprayed in a red arc from split lips as his head was jarred one way and then the other. A punch to the stomach and a kick in the groin and he felt his world darken. The men behind him let go and he fell to his knees. He put his hands on the ground in front of him. One of them kicked his right arm and he fell to his side with a groan, clutching his arm.

He felt hands rifle his pockets, but he was too dazed to do anything. They took everything, including his second gun, and as they were about to leave, one of them leaned down to him.

'Stop this investigation.' he hissed. 'That was just a taste of what you will get if you don't'

Hotch heard the footsteps recede as they ran off. His right ear screamed at him as he tried to get up, but he couldn't do it, and he collapsed in the road and bled onto the tarmac.