Bag of Bones

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas

Will hopefully post the rest of the story this week - fingers crossed.

. . .

Hotch spotted Morgan's vehicle straight away as he pulled up at the end of the long driveway leading to the rural ranch like building he couldn't yet make out in the darkness. There was definitely the space and the isolation to commit the crimes. Getting out he crossed to join Morgan as a couple of local police cars pulled up, thankfully having followed instructions and approached silently.

Opening the door, Hotch sat inside. "Do we know if he is home?"

Morgan shrugged. "Hard to tell. I went down by foot as soon as I got here, there were some lights on, but I didn't see any movement."

"Emily is on her way here, she shouldn't be much longer. Rossi and Reid were further out, so I have told them to meet us back at the station. I organised with all local forces to supply someone to watch the homes we have abandoned to come here, just in case we have missed James Nixon and he turns up at one of those instead of here."

Morgan nodded as he looked up through the windscreen as a bright set of headlights approached. He assumed, correctly, that it was Emily. Both men exited the dark car to brief the locals that would be supporting them as they moved in on the house.

. . .

Hotch and Emily stood at the front door, their weapons were holstered, after all they had no reason to believe James would be violent and they didn't want to freak him out. Reaching up to knock the tough wooden door Hotch and Emily waited patiently. Morgan was round the back in case James panicked and tried to make a run for it. If he was the person they wanted then who knew what mental state he was currently in. The impact of living through the original crimes and the obvious responsibility he now felt to right, what they assumed was, his father's wrongs was unimaginable.

"Anything?" Hotch asked through the communication system.

"There is a light on, but no movement this way. You?" Morgan responded.

"No. . . Hang on . . . wait a minute."

Hotch paused as he heard movement inside. Slowly the door opened slightly.

"James Nixon?" Emily asked as the young sandy haired man came into her view.

He nodded silently, his eyes flicking up and down as he clocked the FBI lettering on the Kevlar she was wearing under her jacket (just in case).

"I'm Agent Prentiss, this is Agent Hotchner, and we're with the FBI. Sorry it is so late, but we need to ask you a few questions, they really are urgent. Do you mind?" Emily spoke softly, trying to reassure the pyjama clad individual.

The door opened wider as James stepped to one side, allowing them in. Emily smiled as she entered, Hotch behind her. Morgan having overheard, stepped down from the back door and moved towards the front of the house.

James shuffled through to an open lounge area, dominated by a large flat screen television and an abundance of dark cushion covered couches. Silently he offered them a seat as he flopped on to a couch on his own, instinctively drawing his knees up, wrapping his arms around protectively.

Hotch couldn't help but think how child like he looked.

"You are here for them, aren't you?" James asked quietly.

Emily, perched on the edge of the couch, looked directly at James. "Here for who, James?"

"Them . . . the boys," he spat at her, too tired to play games.

Emily glanced at Hotch; this wasn't what they had expected, though it was obvious from the dark shadows and the sallow skin that this young man was at the end of his tether.

"James, can you show me what you mean, please?" Emily asked, meeting the young man's eyes once more.

James nodded and stood, Emily and Hotch followed him out of the luxurious room and back across the hallway to a dark wood door.

Hotch was glad Emily was taking the lead, as he was finding James unnerving. There was something about the sandy haired, blue eyed man and his quietly confident way that Hotch didn't like. He didn't know if it was his similarity to the victims or to his own son that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he definitely didn't like it.

As they followed James down the perfectly lit stone steps into the cool atmosphere of the wine cellar, Hotch's senses went onto high alert. They were trusting the young man more than he liked, at least Morgan was outside listening to everything if they needed him. As they walked past the racks of dusty bottles, Hotch instinctively let his hand hover over his weapon. He watched as James unlocked another door and opened it, standing back so they could go in.

"They are in there," he said flatly.

Emily smiled reassuringly. "Who are they, James?"

"You know; it's why you are here. You know what he did and you know what I have done. I . . . have. . . done . . . nothing . . . wrong," James' arms dropped lifelessly by his side.

Emily and Hotch watched as the young man begun to falter, his calm facade cracking for the first time.

"They are in there, where he left them," James sniffed back a sob, as he stepped into the room. He pulled a box off the shelf and placed it onto the smooth table. "Charlie Vahn," he said as he lifted the lid, pulling out a hessian bag and a dark envelope. He handed the envelope to Emily.

Slowly she opened it, pulling out the photographs of a young boy she recognised as Charlie Vahn, others of his family's house, plus pages of roughly written notes. All evidence of the time Chris Nixon had spent hunting down his victims and getting to know all he could about them. She passed it to Hotch who glanced quickly at the contents.

"James," Hotch began, "We need you to allow us to collect the remains of the boys and the evidence that is here. I also need to you come with us and tell us everything you know."

"But I haven't done anything wrong," James' dull eyes pleaded his cause.

"We know you haven't, we need you to help us. You need to tell us what he did."

James nodded, looking from one agent to the next.

"I'll help, but I want to talk to him, to Agent Rossi. He was on the news earlier and I remember him from before."

Hotch nodded. "We can do that for you. Please go and get dressed and then come with me. We can go and meet with Agent Rossi. I will leave Agent Prentiss here with a colleague to collect the evidence, if that is okay?"

James nodded once more, moving past the agents and back out of the room.