Gray Rooms Chap 6
He and Morgan hadn't partnered up in quite a while, Rossi thought, and now it's background work. Victimology was something they both did well, he admitted to himself. However he did not look forward to meeting little Charles Wilson's father and he worried just for a moment about Morgan's temper. None of them liked the cases involving kids, but Morgan was just as bad as Hotch about them.
"So how about you play good cop." Rossi grinned at Morgan.
"You mean rather than pound this guy's head in?" Derek was holding his anger in check.
"I know how you feel about abusive adults…"
"I'll try to stay calm, okay. It'll be a learning experience, right?
"So Charles Wilson, a pretty good kid considering his home life. Good grades, not bullied in school." Rossi sighed. "His mom died last year."
"Then he's kidnaped, beaten and murdered. No life at all."
Rossi stared at Morgan. "No, not a life, I really hope that his mom loved him."
The SUV ran in silence through the streets of Scottsdale until the address was announced on the gps.
Checking their guns the two agents stepped from the car. The house was on a quiet street, it looked abandoned. Spanish style with peeling paint on the door, there was no indication that anyone lived there beyond the dust covered colorless car in the driveway.
Rossi knocked at the door, he turned to see a neighbor letting a curtain from the window fall back into place. "We should talk to the neighbors."
Nodding, Derek looked in the direction of Rossi's gaze.
The door swung open to reveal a man in a teeshirt and khaki shorts. His hair was graying and was the deeply tanned and lined face of someone who worked outdoors.
"Emory Wilson? I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan and this is Special Agent David Rossi, we're with the FBI."
"Mr. Wilson, I'm agent Rossi. I understand you like to beat up little boys."
"What? No, I never."
"If you lie to me I can have you put in jail in minutes."
"Look Agent Rossi, he drove me crazy, always in the way, always talking, smiling. He was like my wife, after she died he just reminded me of her. "
"According to hospital records you nearly killed her on two separate occasions."
The man stared. "I should never have married. She never pressed charges."
"So you took it out on your son?"
"I could never understand why she didn't take him away. She was a lousy mother."
Rossi sat down across from Wilson. "I want you to think very carefully, can you tell me where you were on March 3rd, that's about 4 weeks ago."
"I was travelling. I travel for work."
"Where were you?"
"Oregon, I drove to Oregon."
"You drove through California?"
"No, no through New Mexico and Idaho."
"Do you have records? Receipts?"
"You can check my credit cards right?"
"We will."
"Cops." Wilson grimaced. "You are the ones took my boy from me."
"No, but we're trying to find who did." Morgan said evenly. "Anything you can tell us about that day, about Charles will help us."
"Can we come in? Rossi asked.
Wilson looked at the two agents, "makes no difference to me." He backed into the hallway and the two agents walked in.
The interior of the home was in mind numbing contrast to the exterior. Inside not a stitch was out of place in the starkly furnished rooms. Derek noted a few dishes in the sink, but other than that the kitchen, glimpsed through a doorway glistened. The living room was spotless, a sofa, chair and television indicated that was what the space was used for. The tiled floors were spotless.
"Nice place." Rossi nodded.
"My mom, comes over every Monday, helps to keep things good. That's why I don't understand them taking Charles. Mom and me we looked after him. I know I'm a bad drunk, but I have been trying."
Morgan turned his head toward Rossi, this was not the man who'd been described in reports as confrontational and intractable.
"I notice you've got a black eye."
"Bar fight, I'm trying to do better. I want my boy back."
Rossi frowned, " , you do realize Charles died?"
Wilson bowed his head. "He was barely eight."
"Do you think we could look at Charles's room. " Rossi walked toward the door.
"It's a mess."
"That's okay, we understand, he was a little kid, they can get things everywhere."
"No, I mean when he left I was angry. I threw things, wouldn't let my mom clear up in there. So angry."
Rossi moved to the hall, "is it this way?"
"Yeah, this way," and Wilson opened a door to the right of the hallway. The agents snapped on evidence gloves.
As warned there were a few things scattered around the room. But in general, the room had a military neatness. Wilson stood in the doorway as the agents rummaged about the room.
"He tried really hard to be the kid I wanted." Wilson took a step back into the hall. "I'll make coffee."
"Do you know any eight year olds who make military corners?" The bed was small and tidily made with white sheets and a single dark wool blanket.
"Strange, but I guess not unheard of. Morgan, there are no toys in here."
Morgan was taken aback. "Was his dad military?"
"I have to read the report again, I don't recall that. But the uniforms?"
"I've got a pic of him on my phone, I'll send it to Garcia and Reid. But this guy, he really doesn't seem violent more desperate."
Rossi moved to a small desk. "No computer, no games."
"Here's a math workbook." Morgan carefully bagged the book. He started looking through a chest of drawers. "Paydirt." He lifted and held aloft a photo of a small boy with his mom and dad and a third man.
"Wonder who number 2 male is?" Morgan bagged the photo and handed it to Rossi. Rossi walked out of the room and headed to the kitchen.
He stood at the kitchen door and watched as Emory Wilson stared out the window a coffee filter in one hand the water running in the sink. "Mr. Wilson? Sir."
Wilson looked up, then caught himself in the midst of coffee making. He put down the filter and reached to hold on to the counter. "My boy," he cried. "It's my fault. I thought it was social services, but it really was me. Agent Rossi it's my fault he's dead."
Rossi stood next to Wilson both leaning against the kitchen counter. "You couldn't have known. And look around here, you are trying to make a better home."
"He's all I have…"
They stood quiet for a minute more, then Rossi said, "I really could use some coffee."
Morgan continued to search Charles's room, the closet yielded only clothes, under the mattress only a few dust particles. The desk however had a small stapled together stack of papers. And in a child's handwriting was a journal of sorts. He photographed each of the eight pages and emailed them to Reid. The journal was bagged and tagged.
The two men having coffee looked up expectantly as Morgan walked through into the kitchen. Wilson rose and got a cup out of the cabinet. And Morgan sat with a soft sigh.
Rossi handed the bagged photo to Wilson, "Do you know the other man in the picture?"
Wilson looked at the picture, the man could have been his brother they looked alike, but in truth it was his brother in law. "That's Dom Haver, my wife's brother. He got on well with Charles." In the photo Dom had his hand around Charles's upper arm. It looked playful, but the child had a slightly alarmed look.
"Can you tell us where your brother in law lives? Did he have contact with Charles this last year?"
"Sure, he works for social services in Phoenix, lives downtown. He gave me the black eye. He couldn't believe I didn't give him custody of Charles, you know?"
"Do you have an address?"
They got into the SUV and headed over to the Walker house. Knocking there was no answer. Rossi bit his lip a moment, "let's see if we can get a warrant."
CMCMCMCMCM
My Book by Charles Wilson
When I'm old I'm going to read this to remember now.
I'm 7 years old. Mommy went to heaven today. Anyway that's what Grammy says.
I'm not sure there's a heaven, why would God want my mom there. I need her here.
I have to start over. Daddy hates school I think.
I like staying home, but daddy wants me to be good.
All the time
I don't think I can be good, not all the time.
I have a workbook for arithmetic
Easy stuff
Grammy says to do the easy stuff and she'll get the next one for me
She lies to me
Home alone, daddy went out
I try to be good
The lady in the hospital showed me how to spell hospital
She was nice
I don't have to make my bed here
My arm hurts
I didn't fall down the stairs. (she teaches me to spell stairs too, I'm forgetting stuff from when I went to school)
Home again
Hard to make my bed with one arm
Grammy helps me, but she's not as good as dad wants
Maybe daddy will stay out all night
Her card is in my shoe
I'll try to be good first
Uncle Dom came by today
He's friendly sometimes
He wanted to play a game
I don't like his games
Daddy says I can go back to school
I'm almost 8
I don't have friends there anymore
I miss my mommy all the time
I can't remember her face
I think I'm just a bad boy
Maybe school is bad for me
A bad fluence, daddy says
I try to stand up straight
I try to be quiet
Should I be quiet when he asks questions
I don't know
I wish mommy was here to help with the answers
Reid wiped his face with his cuff. Usually he could keep his distance from cases. This case was getting to him. He picked up his phone and dialled.
"Jack here."
"Hey Jack, you have your dad's phone."
"I only answered cause it's you."
"I know. I wanted to talk with you."
"Okay, what is it papa?"
"Jack I have a case that's really bothering me."
"It's very bad?"
"Yeah, I just worry about you and your dad a lot."
"Daddy would ask you to focus on what you're doing."
"I know, I guess I needed a Hotchner to tell me that."
"You're welcome."
"How's your daddy?"
"The doctor told me he's better, but papa he looks very pale and sometimes he gets tears in his eyes. I wish I could make it better. Somehow."
"We love you so much Jack."
"That doesn't make daddy better, Spencer."
"He's back in ICU?"
Jack nodded, then remembered he was on the phone. "Yeah, it's a compic..complication, you know, infection. "
"He was doing well."
"Yeah he could walk to the nurses station and stuff. But now he has to be in bed again 'til they unhook him."
Clearing his throat and wiping his eyes Spencer insisted he had to be strong for Jack, "Have you got plans for the day?"
"Aunt Jess is taking me to Little League try outs, I really hate baseball."
"Want me to get you out of it."
"Would you? No, I guess I'll do it for her, she thinks it'll keep me social. I think she wants me to be a sports star, I hate to tell her I'm not interested."
Spencer laughed. "Got that."
"School's almost over, Spencer. I might not get all A's this time."
"It's okay Jack, you've been distracted."
"I want daddy to be proud of me."
"Oh Jack, that's already guaranteed."
"Okay papa I need to get these stupid shoes on."
Spencer smiled at the phone. "Go get 'em. And Jack tell your daddy I miss him."
"And you love him right."
"Bye."
Spencer pressed End and looked back on the printouts of Charles's journal. He reminded himself that life really wasn't fair. His phone jingled and he opened the email from Derek with a picture of Charles and his family and a picture of Dominic Haver standing at what looked like a kitchen sink. He'd go visit Jacob in the hospital once he talked with JJ about the journal.
He hit Garcia's speed dial.
"World of FBI wonders, how can I help you boy genius?"
"Garcia, did you get the Wilson family photo from Derek?"
"I did indeed."
"Could you isolate the uncle's face, I want to see if Jacob recognizes him."
"As we speak, just give me a few minutes and it will wend its way to your email."
"Do a background…"
"On Dominic Haver, in the works already. Are you getting close?"
"Garcia, you didn't tell me Hotch was back in ICU."
"Uh, no, I'm sorry, JJ and Rossi…"
"Garcia, don't let that happen again." Spencer said flatly. "I don't want to have to find out from Jack again."
"Oh I am so sorry."
"Fine, just get me the information."