"Family of Derek Morgan?"
Garcia stood up. The rest of the team was back at the station, searching desperately. "Here."
"He's still sedated, but if you'd like to go in and visit him you can. We've finished our tests for the time being."
"How is he?" Garcia asked nervously.
"Lucky. If he'd been out there a few more hours, he'd be dead. But we've got his injuries stabilized. Three broken ribs, four bruised. Cracked shoulder, sprained knee, and moderate internal bleeding. The concussion, of course. Plus other abrasions and bruises. But he's stabilized. Head wounds are tricky, but he should recover. I'll take you to his room."
"Did you run a rape kit?" Penelope asked. She hated having to ask the question, but the unsub did have him for slightly over the first 24 hours.
"We did. Negative."
Penelope let out a relieved sigh. At least there were small miracles.
5 hours into day 1.
/
"He's got to live in a secluded place. No duct tape residue, no signs of gagging on the victims," Rossi noted. "So he lives somewhere out of earshot from society."
"Yeah, victims had to have been screaming like hell," one of the officers noted.
"Please, please don't say that," JJ nearly begged him.
The officer looked trite, suddenly remembering the circumstance. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"How much of our geographic profile is that rural?" Hotch asked.
Alex, who as the second-most-academic member of the team had been tasked with the map, scowled. "Pretty much all of it. Plus we still have an area the size of Switzerland, even after I calculated in the exchange site. I hate these things. Why has no one written a computer program to do all the math yet?"
"Because it can't be written. The variables in each case are too different, and apparently it's less work to do it all by hand," Hotch murmured, surprised he had actually retained information from that particular session of enthusiastic rambling.
7 hours into day 1.
/
"Rossi, can you- Rossi?" Hotch asked, turning around. Rossi had fallen asleep in his chair, and Hotch couldn't blame him. The whole team had been awake and running for over 32 hours now. Hotch walked over and gently shook his colleague awake.
Rossi grunted. "Sorry." He sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking at the paper.
"Let's go back to the hotel room. No one is making any progress. We're running on empty," Hotch said.
Rossi nodded. "Hate to do it, but I can't keep going."
"None of us can. Tell the others to go sleep, meet back here in four hours."
8 hours into day 1.
/
The team, having crashed into mild comas for a few hours, came back at least slightly more refreshed, but more and more worried about time.
The four agents working the case each felt tears threaten to overcome them each time they hit the end of a lead and failed to find another in its place.
"We need to talk to Morgan," Hotch finally concluded. "Morgan has to have the key."
12 hours into day 1.
/
"No, he's not awake yet," Garcia said into her phone. "Yeah, I told him, but he said it's not safe yet. Head injuries apparently require lots of recuperation time… Look, Hotch, I'll keep talking to the doctors about it, and when anything changes I'll call you. Calling me every half hour isn't helping anyone. You guys just… just do what you do." She hung up and took Morgan's still hand in hers, biting her lip and praying for a miracle.
15 hours into day 1.
/
"Something about the victimology seems weird," Rossi declared.
"What?" JJ asked.
"I don't know. It just seems off…" Rossi trailed off, his furry eyebrows wrinkled in thought. "The ritual feels so specific to me, and the fact that the drug-addicted, delusional unsub keeps sticking to it makes me think that it represents something to him."
"Agreed. To him, it has some kind of meaning. It's not just for the sadism," Alex added. "He thinks the ritual will accomplish something. But what does that have to do with victimology?"
Rossi frowned in concentration. "Why was Reid more valuable to him than Morgan? Why would he bother complete the ritual with either of them? If the ritual is so specific, why isn't the target?"
"Reid looked more like the other victims. White, young-looking, slim- like the first two," JJ pointed out.
"Yeah, but the first two were way more specific. College students, raised in this town. It was almost like he was looking for someone specific," Rossi mused. "Like a revenge fantasy, except he wasn't sure who committed the infraction."
Hotch frowned. "Okay, that is how I would've profiled the first two kills, but you're right. If that was the case, he'd have no use for Morgan or Reid."
"I know. I can't make sense of it," Rossi sighed.
18 hours into day 1.
/
"He's delusional. Maybe his delusion started off searching for a specific person, and then spun out of control, making him complete the ritual no matter what?" JJ suggested.
"That makes sense, but we have to figure out why before we can find him," Hotch replied.
"He keeps talking about a timeline," Alex added. "He was distressed by the news of Morgan's concussion because he didn't want to disrupt his schedule, and he accepted Reid because it was the quickest way to get a fresh… person." Victim.
"Okay, so his delusion runs on a timeline of some kind. There's nothing apparent in the spacing between the victims, though," Hotch said. "I'll call Garcia and see if she can find anything about the dates." He pulled out his phone and left the room.
20 hours into day 1.
/
"Okay, I got something. In a search that under normal circumstances would be wholly unnecessary, I discovered that the dates were all dates that ancient Mesopotamian tribes performed rituals intended to bring back the dead," Garcia rattled off.
"Figures, the one case where that would have been relevant… Anyone in the town have a background in that kind of thing?" Hotch asked.
"As lovely as it would be, it does not appear to be so."
"Thanks, Garcia. How's Morgan?"
Garcia sighed. "The good news is, they're reducing sedation. The bad news, by best estimate he'll be awake in six hours."
Hotch cringed. "Garcia, he's our best lead to getting to Reid. We only have another 2 hours until we get another video call, then break into day 2. See if you can lean on the doctors."
"I'll try, Hotch."
22 hours into day 1.
/
"Uh, are you guys getting a transmission I'm not getting?" Garcia asked over speaker-phone.
"Nope," Rossi replied.
"Shouldn't we be getting a video call?"
"Yup."
"Why aren't we?" Garcia asked, suddenly worried. She'd spent enough time around profilers to know that changes to the routine were very rarely good.
"Dunno," Rossi replied. "Standby, Garcia." He hung up, not wanting to lower the girl's spirits even more.
24 hour mark.
/
Alex held her hair and puked violently into the toilet. When the retching stopped, she wiped her mouth and flushed, leaving the stall to find a sympathetic-looking JJ.
"Sorry," Alex muttered without really knowing why. She went to wash her hands. JJ stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I know you're scared," JJ said quietly. "We all are. It's okay to admit it."
"I feel so guilty," Alex whispered, tears threatening her eyes. "But I have to be strong. I have to help solve this case. If I break down I've just compounded my mistake."
"Blake, we're all about to break down. I'm falling apart. Hotch is shaking and returning from coffee runs with suspiciously red eyes. Rossi's mastered the art of drinking a gallon of coffee without tearing his eyes away from the file. Garcia's holding Morgan's hand and crying over the phone. There's no shame in letting people see you bleed when you've been cut."
Alex nodded. "I know, but I feel like if I break down, I've let him down. He's already paying for my mistake. I can't make it worse."
1 hour into day 2.
/
"Okay, it's been long enough that we're not getting a video transmission," Rossi said to the solemn room.
"Why change pattern? He's been pretty consistent in his ritual up until now," JJ pointed out.
"Agreed. For being on stimulants, he's been very consistent up until now," Hotch said. "Why the change in MO?"
"It's possible that switching captives mid-ritual threw him off balance enough to cause a break in routine," Rossi said grimly.
Hotch picked up the phone and dialed. "Garcia, did you record the phone conversation with Reid?" A pause. "Good. See if you can isolate the background noises, specifically the unsub talking. We're trying to figure out his emotional state. Thanks, Garcia."
2 hours into day 2.
/
Garcia frowned and played it again. There had to be something there, had to be something in the background, but it was evading her thus far.
There was a muffled grunt from the bed. Immediately, she paused the tape.
"Morgan?" she whispered, tightening her hold on his hand. "Derek, you okay in there?"
He groaned. "Damn, baby girl, what happened to me?"
"You got hit on the back of the head with a cast iron skillet. Do you remember that?"
He rolled over slowly, facing her, blinking against the intrusive light. "Yeah." His eyes widened. "Is Alex okay?"
Garcia bit her lip. "Yeah, she's fine."
Morgan raised one curved eyebrow. "But?"
Garcia shook her head. "I have to get the doctors so they can check you out."
"Garcia," Morgan said with a warning tone. "What's going on? Is everyone okay?"
"I'll tell you everything when the doctors have verified that your head injury is doing okay," Garcia said firmly, squeezing his hand before setting it down and walking out of the room.
4 hours into day 2.
/
"Doctor says I'm doing better, still beat as hell, but doing better, now will you please tell me what's going down?" Morgan asked fiercely. "Is everyone okay?"
Garcia blinked back tears. "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? Garcia, what the fuck is going on?" he demanded.
"Reid was the one who noticed on the video chat that you had a concussion," Garcia whispered. "He realized that you would only have a few hours to live if you didn't get medical attention, because it had already been a full 24 hours since the injury. We didn't have any leads, we weren't anywhere near finding you."
Morgan was staring at her with wide-eyed horror. "No. Garcia, tell me he didn't..."
"It was the only way," Garcia said. "He volunteered to take your place, the unsub accepted. Morgan, if he hadn't done it, you'd be dead."
"How long has it been?" Morgan demanded. Garcia sucked in a breath and looked away. "Garcia, tell me!"
"We're six hours into day 2," she whispered.
"Day…" Morgan started to repeat, then buried his head in his hands. Garcia saw his shoulders shake with silent, helpless sobs.
"I'll go call Hotch," she whispered, giving him privacy in his suffering.
6 hours into day 2.
/
"What did the vehicle smell like?" Rossi asked, giving a cognitive interview.
Morgan, eyes closed, tried to remember. "Mildew. Dirty."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"I don't know. All I could hear was the ringing," Morgan said, absentmindedly touching his bandaged head.
"All right. How long was the ride?"
"Not sure, I was fading in and out. Felt long."
"Did the feel of the ride change at any point? Did the road become a gravel or dirt road?"
Morgan paused, focusing. "Yeah, it was gravel for part of it. The sound aggravated my head a lot."
"How roomy was the vehicle?"
"Pretty roomy. I was able to lay down without being too cramped. Probably a van with the seats removed. I kept my eyes closed though, so I can't be sure."
"Okay. When you arrived, how long was the walk from the vehicle to the house?"
Morgan frowned. "I think I was out for that part. I remember the bottom of my jeans being filthy though, so it was probably a dirt drive, not concrete or gravel."
"Okay, good," Rossi said encouragingly. "Where did you wake up?"
"A room. Basement, I think- no windows. Brick walls. It was really old- probably a hundred years old, maybe more. I was- I was thinking about how I'd remodel it when he was going at me."
"Did he take off his stocking?"
"I don't know," Morgan admitted. "I kept my head down. I was too dizzy to stand, and looking up made the light hurt my head."
"Do you remember him saying anything to you?"
Morgan frowned. "Yeah, he said something. I was really fuzzy at that point so I'm not sure exactly…"
"Think, Morgan. What did the room smell like?" Rossi asked emphatically.
"Dusty. Old," Morgan replied.
"How did you feel?"
"I could barely feel the injuries he was laying on me," Morgan said distantly. "I could only tell when he hit me because my body would move. All the pain was in my head. I was dizzy, I couldn't hear well or see clearly."
"But you did hear something. What was it?"
Morgan's lips thinned. Then: "He apologized. And a name: Sarah. I have a sister with that name, only reason I remembered it."
"Was he talking about your sister?"
"No," Morgan said, frowning in concentration. "He said… he said he knew I wasn't the one who killed Sarah. That's why he apologized, I think."
"Can you remember his exact words?"
"Uh… something like, 'I'm sorry I have to do this. I know you weren't the one who killed Sarah.'"
Rossi nodded, scribbling it down. "That's very helpful. Do you remember anything else?"
Morgan shook his head. "Just trying to focus on the walls while he hit me with things. After that, all I remember is trying to hold myself together. Nothing about him. Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Most people can't give information that thorough when they aren't dying of head injuries," Rossi said, patting his shoulder. "That was helpful. Get some rest, do what the doctors tell you too, try to keep Garcia sane. We'll keep you informed."
8 hours into day 2.