NO SURRENDER
Chapter 4
Love Me

There is no moral phenomena at all, only moral interpretation of phenomena – Frederick Nietzsche

'If she was stalking Lowe, chances are she was in contact with other inmates before Lowe.' Reid said.

The team were sitting around the table in the LAPD offices. They had to have a lead to Hotch. Garcia had estimated her height as being just under five feet and overweight, Memorable, if she had visited any one in prison.

'Make some calls, Reid, and if you need to visit, take Morgan with you.' Rossi said. Death row was not a place for Reid to go to alone.

'We have the van now.' Emily said as Reid left to make some calls. 'But there were no licence plates. She had covered it up.'

'She couldn't have driven far with the plates covered.' Morgan said. 'I'll see if I can find any more security videos in the surrounding streets.'

Rossi rubbed at his eyes. This UnSub was a psychopath and she had Hotch. She had killed the random people in the drive bys simply to lure the BAU, and to entrap Hotch. He couldn't believe that they had walked straight into the trap. There would be no more shootings, of that he was sure. Not now she had what she wanted.

-0-0-0-

Reid and Morgan parked up inside the prison. The Governor was expecting them. They were disarmed at the entrance as they drove in. These people imprisoned here were among the most dangerous killers in the country. Already Reid felt nervous being there. He remembered when he and Hotch had gone to interview a death row in mate Chester Hardwick in Connecticut, and that had almost ended in disaster. He was glad Morgan was with him.

Kyle Rana was a nasty looking man, and Reid couldn't understand how these men had women falling over themselves to write to them.

I'm in the wrong job!

Rana scowled at the two agents as they came into the room.

'We want to talk to you about a woman who came to visit you on occasions.' Morgan said.

'I have lots of women who all want me.' He said. 'And some men too!' he added with a leer at Reid. Reid visibly recoiled.

'We are interested in one in particular.' Reid said, trying to keep his voice in check. 'A small woman, about five feet tall, and overweight.'

'Ahh! Cyndie. The lovely Cyndie.' Kyle grinned. 'Pity they wouldn't allow conjugal visits. I could have knocked her rotten teeth out.'

'When did you last hear from her?' Morgan asked.

Kyle looked dreamy for a moment, then, 'About six months ago. Now piss off.'

'We need the letters she wrote. The officers are checking out your room at the moment.' Reid said. 'Thank you for your time.'

'Anything for you. Pity about the conjugal visits rule.' He sneered. 'I could have you.'

Reid forced himself not to react, but he couldn't prevent the blush. Rana laughed as he was led out of the room by two armed guards.

'Delightful man.' Morgan said under his breath as they left the prison.

'Yeah. Charming.' Reid said.

-0-0-0-

Hotch woke up shivering on the bed. It was wet with blood and bodily fluids, and he couldn't control the trembling of his limbs. He had no sense of time, and he thought it was night as there was little light coming through the windows. His beaten body hurt – muscles protested at the new position and his eyes were sore. His throat rasped on each searing breath, and he felt faint with thirst.

He twisted his wrists in the rope in an effort to escape, and felt the knots tighten. He groaned as the ropes cut into the scarring on his right wrist. His legs felt heavy and useless, and he thought not for the first time that even if he did get the knots undone he wouldn't get far.

He froze as he heard the basement door open and closed his eyes against the glare of the lights. The woman came and stood over him.

'I decided to bring you some food, Hotchner.' She said. He watched in trepidation as she took a flask out of her bag and tipped some of its contents into a cup. It looked like some kind of grey porridge, and Aaron was suddenly no longer hungry.

She held a spoon loaded with the muck against his lips, and he turned his head. It smelt fishy, and was making him feel sick. Suddenly she pulled his face round and squeezed his jaw to open his mouth and forced the foul smelling stuff between his lips. He tried to spit it out, but she held onto his nose and mouth so that he had to swallow. The instant she moved her hand he threw it back up onto the bed. His eyes watered and he coughed and gagged until his stomach was empty again.

He was rewarded with a punch in the mouth. His teeth bit into his lip and blood ran in a thin line from his mouth.

'Why are you doing this to me?' he asked. 'I didn't hurt your man. I wasn't with him when he died.'

'You are responsible. You are their leader.'

Hotch blinked. 'I am sorry that he died. We would have saved him if we could.'

'LIAR!'

'Please can I have a drink.'

She walked away.

-0-0-0-

I made him some food. I thought he would be hungry, and he literally threw it back in my face. Now he wants water. I want to play. There is a sharp knife in the drawer of the table, and I get it out. This will be fun; it is time to remove his clothes.

The knife is glinting in the evening light coming through the low windows of the basement. I take it over to where Hotch is lying shivering on the wet bed.

'Look here!' I say, and show him the blade. He cowers away from me, his eyes fixed on it. I lay the blade on his stomach and watch with amusement as he draws his body away from it. I hook the tip of the blade under his waist band and slice down his leg. Then I do the same to the other leg and his trousers fall away. Climbing on the bed, I kneel astride him and touch his chest. His skin is really cold, and for the first time, I feel worried about him.

I nuzzle into his neck. Again he is turning away from me. You would think he would have learned his lesson by now. I reach down to the floor where the blood spattered belt is lying. Quickly I wrap it around his neck and thread the end through the buckle. Using the end of the belt I pull him close to me and kiss him. This time he doesn't fight it, and he allows me to probe his mouth with my tongue.

'There, my Darling.' I whisper to him, touching and stroking him. 'I knew you would love me.'

-0-0-0-

Reid and Morgan put the letters and cuttings that Cyndie had sent Rana on the table in the conference room. There were certainly a lot of them, and Rana had kept all the envelopes, which meant they had post marks.

But the most exciting thing was the photograph she had sent him. Reid pinned it up on the evidence board.

'Cynthia Chaucer.' Rossi said. 'We just need an address.'

'These post marks don't help.' Reid said. 'They are from all over the country.'

'Eleven ten.' said Morgan, looking at his watch. 'No shooting.'

'It was a lure, to get us here.' Dave said. 'Chaucer must live near here.'

Reid went over to where the map was pinned to the wall.

'We decided earlier that the UnSub lives in this area.' Reid said, indicating the apex of the arc. 'If she is holding Hotch at home, it must be a residence on its own, or the neighbours could hear his...... they would hear.....' He drifted off, not wanting to think of Hotch being hurt, but certain that he would be.

'She could work in the area.' Emily said. 'I'll get Garcia on to it.'

Garcia searched the name.

'I don't have an address', she said. 'But I have a possible place of work.'

She gave the address of a biscuit packing plant where a Cynthia Chaucer used to work. They might be able to get the address from there. Reid checked the address on the map.

'It's very close to the apex.' he said.

'Reid, come with me to the factory.' Dave said. 'Morgan and Emily, see if she had any known associates we can check out, in case we can't get the address.'

-0-0-0-

'She used to work here', the line manager said, 'But we've not seen her now for about six months.'

Reid and Rossi sat in Mr Poulter's 'office' – a grubby partitioned off alcove reeking of cigarettes. Reid made a mental note to give up biscuits. Poulter was looking through a filing cabinet drawer to find her file.

'Her details may have been destroyed. We are only required to keep......... ahh here it is, Cynthia Chaucer.'

He took the folder out of the cabinet and put it on the desk with a flourish.

'What was she like as a work colleague?' Dave asked.

'She was a little odd, kept herself away from the other workers. Always reading books about crime.'

'Did you fire her?' Reid asked

'She just stopped coming to work. We wrote a letter of dismissal, but we heard nothing more from her.'

'Do you have an address?' Rossi asked.

Poulter scribbled an address down on a scrap of paper and gave it to Dave who thanked him.

'If by any chance you should hear from her', Reid said, handing him a card, 'Please contact us. It is vital that we find her.'

Poulter took the card and shook their hands.

'Thank you for your co-operation Sir.' Dave said, and they made their way out and back to the car.

-0-0-0-

She had been holding his head up by the belt around his neck. She allowed his head top drop back into the filth on the bed. Blood and muck was encrusted in his hair and seeing him lie there like that, helpless and vulnerable, excited her, and she wrapped her arms around his cold body and rested her head on his chest. She could feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing, and hear his heart beating behind broken ribs. She touched the place where she had stitched up the gun shot wound. It felt hot whereas the rest of his body was cold. He was unconscious, and she used the time to gently clean the wound. Pressing on it released the poison that had been building up, and he moved under her hands and groaned as the pain almost brought him round.

'Shh it's ok.' she whispered. 'Stay asleep.'

She wiped the mess away with the cut fabric of his trousers, and climbed off the bed. She ran up the stairs to her house and collected a thin grubby blanket from her bedroom and brought it down and covered him with it. His body trembled with the cold, but his fore head was beaded with sweat, and she was afraid he was going to die. She uncovered his chest and anointed the gun shot wound with the iodine.

His eyes snapped open at the sudden searing pain, and his eyes for a moment flashed with deep seated fear.

'I will take care of you, Darling.' she said. 'I don't want you to die.'

'Need .....doctor...' he said weakly. 'Please.'

'No need.' she said gently. 'You have me to take care of you.'

'Please.... I will d-die..... infected.... please.'

She could feel the anger build up again, and she pulled hard on the belt around his neck. Aaron's head lifted off the bed and he made a choking sound. He tried to raise his head higher to relieve the tightening, but with his arms tight above him, he was limited in movement. His eyes widened as he fought to breathe.

When he had passed out again, she dropped the belt.