A/N: Despite my research, I'm not very good as far as the medical aspect but did my best. So if there are any miscues, please keep that in mind.

Chapter 8

Later that same morning, Rossi, with Morgan beside him, walked into the medical examiner's office where they met Doctor Lena McCloskey, Chief medical examiner who had been waiting for them. The two men shook hands with the doctor, then followed her to the examination room. Rossi watched her as she walked in front of them, heels clicking on the tiled floor as well as emphasizing her shapely legs, and smiled a devious smile as his mind went places he knew they shouldn't, at least not right now.

When they were introduced, the older profiler guessed Doctor McCloskey was about thirty-five, her reddish-gold hair delicately pulled back from her face in a bun on the back of her head with tiny pearl earrings. And despite the white lab coat, he could still notice the slight 'wiggle' when she walked. If only I was ten or fifteen years younger, he thought to himself. He smirked as he sighed and shook his head. He noticed Morgan eying him with a smirk knowing what the older man was thinking.

"My mind just wandered for a few seconds is all," he said calmly. He saw Morgan smile at him, chuckle, and shake his head, amused. He knew Rossi's history with the ladies was as legendary as the profiler himself. That and the fact the man had been married three times. Reaching the exam room, the profilers noticed the aluminum table with a covered body lying on it. Dr. McCloskey walked around the table and pulled back the sheet.

"When you called, I had the body ready for your examination," she said grimly.

Both profilers stared down at the body of what had once been a beautiful twenty-year-old woman named Andrea Ackles, her honey-blond hair splayed out behind her head. Her complexion was still, for the most part, flawless except for a faded blemish on her temple. Curious, Morgan bent over to take a closer look at it. Then, straightening up, he asked the ME for a pair of latex gloves which she handed him. Putting them on, Morgan leaned over very close to get a good look; he gingerly touched the blemish.

"See something?" Rossi asked the black agent, curious.

"Not sure," was Morgan's reply not looking up. He then walked around the head of the table and checked the other temple finding the same mark. "Doctor, what are these blemishes she has on both temples?" He fingered the blemish.

Dr. McCloskey looked down. "We're not really sure. At first we thought they might be birth marks, skin blemishes, or maybe even marks from forceps. I didn't do the autopsy on her."

"This looks like a very faint burn mark," Morgan said. In his peripheral vision he noticed the doctor bend over to get a closer look. Her eyebrows knitted in concern.

"I think you're right," she admitted.

Rossi leaned over to get a closer look. "They look round in shape." He looked up at the doctor. "Any idea what might have caused these?"

"Well, from the shape, I would venture a guess as to say they were probably caused by electrodes being placed on her temples," said McCloskey.

"Electrodes?" asked Morgan standing up with his eyes still on the doctor. "You mean like the types of electrodes doctors use when doing a brain scan?"

"Yes."

Morgan and Rossi exchanged troubled looks. "I don't recall seeing anything on the autopsy report about the victim having undergone ECT? Do you?" He looked at Rossi.

"No. Looks like somebody mistook it for a blemish. Did you run a tox screen on her?" Rossi asked looking at the doctor.

"Yes. The official cause of death was listed as carbon monoxide poisoning. But we did find levels of Prozac in her blood which were well within the normal range with no signs of abuse. An external examination didn't show any signs of trauma, but did show something interesting. In addition, we also found trace amounts of a paralyzing agent in her urine. "

"And what was that?" asked Rossi with narrowed eyes after a quick glance at Morgan.

McCloskey looked at her clipboard and then at Rossi. "We found traces of succinylcholine in her urine along with a large amount of a psychotropic drug which is associated with causing catatonia."

"Any idea as to how they were administered?" the older profiler asked.

"That was the other thing we found interesting. Take a look at this," McCloskey said as she lifted part of the sheet covering the body exposing one hip, and Rossi noticed a very small mark the size of a pin and barely noticeable. He bent over to get a closer look as did Morgan who, by now, had walked around to the other side of the table. Morgan stripped off the latex gloves and looked directly at his partner.

"Y'know, I wondered how the UnSubs got the victim in her car then started the engine without her putting up a struggle of any kind."

"They injected her with a paralyzing agent to keep her from fighting back, then took her to her car, put her inside, turned on the engine, then closed the garage door leaving her to die from the carbon monoxide," said Rossi grimly.

"How much do you want to bet the others had the same so called blemishes on their temples," said Morgan a bit frustrated because they didn't have the other bodies to examine.

Dr. McCloskey turned away and picked up another clipboard. "Funny you should say that, agent," she remarked, turning. "I pulled the records of the other victims, Jennifer Lawman, Donna Marvel, Tara Jamison, Samantha Lowry and Susie Hanlon. According to the reports, they all had the same blemishes on their temples, trace amounts of succinylcholine, and the same psychotropic drug. Small needle marks were found on their hips also." She looked at both agents.

Morgan and Rossi looked at each other.

"These UnSubs are putting their victims into catatonic states and then using ECT on them. They're conducting experiments on their victims," Rossi said.


Reid followed Prentiss through the doors of Sierra Vista hospital and approached the nurses' desk. The blond behind the desk, having not been on duty the day before, looked up and smiled a forced smile as she, and others, were a bit unnerved by the FBI invading their premises.

"Can I help you?" she asked nervously.

Prentiss and Reid both flashed their credentials. "I'm Agent Prentiss and this is Doctor Reid. We're from the FBI. We have an appointment to see Dr. Bowman."

"One moment, please," the nurse replied as she picked up the phone, pressed a button and waited while Reid and Prentiss turned their backs to her and looked out at several patients sitting in the day room. Suddenly Prentiss's cell vibrated. Fishing it out of her pocket, she looked at the caller ID before pressing the phone to her ear.

"Yeah, Morgan," she said. "Reid and I are here now waiting to see Dr. Bowman. Why?" Her eyes darted to Reid who looked at his friend quizzically. "You're kidding. Okay, thanks." She put the phone away and grabbing Reid's arm, took a few steps away from the nurses' desk so she wouldn't be overheard. "That was Morgan." She then repeated what she had been told. She saw Reid's eyebrows knit. "Now why would somebody inject somebody with a psychotropic drug, treat them with an antidepressant, then subject them to ECT?" she asked.

Reid looked thoughtful for a few seconds. When he spoke, he kept his voice equally low. "They wouldn't. The only time someone would be subjected to ECT is if there's no improvement with any of the antidepressants. And the only reason to inject someone with a psychotropic drug is to put them into a catatonic state to begin with. Did Morgan say anything about the other victims?"

Before Prentiss could respond, however, the nurse at the nurses' desk called out to them; they turned around.

"Excuse me, but Dr. Bowman will see you now. Go down the hall and take the elevator to the third floor. Room 307."

"Thank you," said Prentiss, then turned back to Reid. "Morgan said the others showed the same things.

"It sounds like the UnSubs are deliberately putting these women into catatonic conditions, and then using ECT on them, although I can't see why as yet."

Prentiss grabbed Reid's arm and turning him, guided him towards the elevators. "C'mon, let's go see what this Doctor Bowman can tell us."

As they headed down the hall to the bank of elevators, Reid caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye; he pulled his arm away from Prentiss. He watched as she pushed the up button.

"You go ahead," he suggested. "I have something else to do."

"Like what?" Prentiss asked as the doors slid open just after a 'ding' was heard.

"I'm going to see if I can find Dr. Hunt and talk to him. If I can, I'll wait for you outside."

He watched as Prentiss stepped inside the elevator; as the door started to close, she suddenly stopped the doors with a hand. "Be careful," she said, concerned. Seeing Reid faintly smile, she let her hand drop and stepped back. Reid watched the doors close before he turned and walked a few steps in the opposite direction until he stood outside the door on which was a name plate which was nothing more that a piece of paper on which a name was printed in block letters and taped to the edge of the door above the doorknob; that name was Adam Hefner.

The young profiler couldn't explain why he was so drawn to that room except that he felt a connection somehow. It was as if some invisible force was summoning him to that room. Also, he thought how close 'Adam Hefner' was to 'Aaron Hotchner.' Could it be? Could Hotch be on the other side of that door? And if he was, what shape would he be in after all this time? Swallowing the building lump in his throat, Reid hesitated for a few minutes before gripping the doorknob and turning it. But before he could open the door, it was suddenly opened and a woman with reddish-gold hair looked out, but kept her body positioned as to effectively block the doorway not allowing him any view of what or who might be inside.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked coolly looking into Reid's hazel eyes. It was obvious to her that Reid wasn't expecting someone other than the patient to be in the room, and was glad she had noticed the doorknob turning. She stood waiting.

"I…I'm sorry," Reid stammered. "I uh, was looking for Dr. Jackson Hunt and was told he might be in here. I need to speak with him."

"Dr. Hunt isn't here right now," Daria replied still coolly as she studied the profiler's face. "Wait a minute. Aren't you one of those FBI agents I saw yesterday?"

Reid smiled nervously. "That's me. I'm Doctor Spencer Reid and I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

"Profiler?" Daria asked with raised eyebrows. She looked Reid up and down. This guy was a Fed? To her, he resembled a string bean with eyes. Easing herself outside the room without allowing the young man any view inside, Daria closed the door quietly. "As I told you, Dr. Hunt isn't here right now. He worked very late last night but is expected in this afternoon. Maybe you can come back then?"

"You….you're Daria Hunt, right? Dr. Hunt's daughter-in-law?"

"Yeah. What about it?" she asked wanting to get away from Reid as quickly as she could as he was beginning to make her nervous by how he was studying her.

"Nothing. It's just I'd like to talk with you if you have some time," Reid stated. He sensed her nervousness.

She looked back at the door behind her. "I can't right now," she said. "I'm on duty until I'm relieved later. Mr. Hefner is on a new medication and can't be left alone. He has to be monitored closely."

"I see. Well, perhaps we could talk inside Mr. Hefner's room if we keep our voices down." Reid reached for the doorknob, and wasn't surprised when Daria stopped him by grabbing his hand before he could.

"We can't," she said quickly. "Doctor Hunt doesn't want anybody in this room except medical staff." She exhaled through her nose. "Look, I really cannot leave the patient alone. Can we perhaps talk later today?"

Reid shrugged his shoulders. "Sure," he said with a smile. Better not to force the issue, he thought to himself. "You can find me at the Sacramento police department; Doctor Spencer Reid." He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to the woman. She looked at it. "Or, you could call me and I can come back here if you want?"

"I'll call you when I get off work later. And I'll be sure to tell Jack you were looking for him," Daria said. "I promise. Now, I really have to return to my patient."

"Okay. See you," Reid replied and started to turn then stopped. "Before I forget. How is Mr. Hefner doing by-the-way? I heard he's catatonic?"

"Yes, poor man," Daria said reaching behind her and grasping the doorknob. "So far there's been no change, but we're hopeful. But if anybody can help him, it's Jack." She opened the door behind her and started backing inside. Her eyes never left Reid's face as she gradually disappeared inside and closed the door. Even then, Reid continued to stare at the closed door. He didn't know whether or not Adam Hefner was really Aaron Hotchner, but there was one thing of which Spencer Reid was now positive.

Daria Hunt was definitely lying about something, and he was going to find out about what and why.

With her back against the door, Daria leaned the back of her head against it and looked up at the ceiling swallowing hard. This was just great! One of those FBI agents cornered her right outside Agent Hotchner's room and almost got a look inside. And it was only by a stroke of luck that she prevented it from happening. Jack will not be happy about these events whatsoever. She had to get to a phone to call and warn him. Her eyes then fell on Hotch who was still lying on the bed apparently asleep and wondered what she was going to do if the FBI remained in the hospital until Hunt showed up? Also, the agent might not have come here alone. To get to a phone would mean leaving Hotch alone and she couldn't do that; not with that curious FBI agent on the premises. Also, her husband was on his day off and unavailable. She realized she was totally on her own right now with nobody she could turn to as nobody knew what she, Ron or Dr, Hunt were doing.


He had watched the skinny FBI agent talking to Daria and wondered what they were talking about as he couldn't get close enough to hear. He secretly wondered if she was trying to seduce the skinny man, but discarded that notion as the man looked more like a college preppy than an FBI agent anyway. Then he watched her disappear back inside the room knowing the patient in there was that Adam Hefner. Once he noticed the skinny man get into the elevator, and the doors close, he walked down the hallway stopping outside the door of the room he had seen her disappear inside of, and his lips drew back in a sneer as he saw the name on the door and cursed under his breath. She was apparently in there alone with him. What was she doing in there with him? In his mind, he imagined her on the bed with Adam, seducing him, kissing him, making love to him whether he was unconscious or not. It didn't matter. She was with him and it had to end and soon. Then, with a low growl, he abruptly turned and stormed away in the opposite direction.


The hazy faceless images returned to his mind again as Hotch became restless, his head flopping from side-to-side. He still couldn't make out who these people were, what they wanted, nor why there were appearing in his mind. Then, just as suddenly, three of the people stood aside and allowed two more people to step forward, one he recognized as a woman, the other was very small, possibly a child. Their faces were also unclear.

"Daddy!" the child cried out running toward him and colliding with his legs, wrapped his small arms around his legs and pressed the side of his head against them. He found himself looking down, puzzled, at the small child who now was looking up at him with brown eyes and a wide-eyed smile on his face. "I love you, daddy!" he said.

Daddy? Why was this child calling him daddy? Did he have a son? If he did, why couldn't he remember him?

"Aaron," the woman called out to him. He looked up in the direction of the woman. "Aaron, it's me, Haley. You have to come back to us. We need you! Jack and I need you." He looked up at her quizzically and in confusion. Haley? Who was Haley, and who was Aaron? His name was Adam. And who was this child clinging to his legs and calling him daddy? Yet somehow, the name Jack did sound familiar, and he felt he should know that name. Hotch gripped his head in both hands and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Dammit, why couldn't he remember?

Hotch's eyes flew open with a look of utter panic and confusion in them as he allowed his eyes to dart around the room. Why were these images coming to him? Why couldn't he see or remember them? Why was this happening to him? Better yet, what was happening to him? He was so confused and frightened right now. If only he could see something or someone that he knew. Then, his eyes landed on Daria.