Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Unfortunate Luck
"True luck consists not in holding the best of the cards at the table; luckiest is he who knows just when to rise and go home." – John Hay
Hotch got to his feet and worked his way back toward the house, keeping his ears tuned so he would be able to hear if either Savannah or Morgan called out to him. He wondered what would greet him when he returned to the house. Would Reid's back have had enough time to relax so that he wouldn't be in too much pain on his ride back to their temporary headquarters at the police station? Would Savannah and Morgan have found Aiken so they could return him to his father?
As Hotch picked his way through the vines that threatened to entangle him, he let his thoughts wander to the unsub. After having staked out the previous homes for what would appear to be weeks at a time and choosing places he could get into without much trouble during the day and in which two people remained, why had he chosen the Randalls? If the pattern rang true, he would've had to have staked the house out for at least a couple of weeks and surely would've realized that when Steve left for the day, Aiken, Braden, and Molly would be home and that within the hour Molly's brother Jake would drop his boys off on his way to work. Maybe they were looking for two different people entirely. Maybe this double murder had not been planned out with the same amount of precision as the last several ones because it was not the same man.
Making a mental note to have the team reassess the profile on their unsub disregarding the past double murders, Hotch continued to painstakingly make his way out of the swampland. He was hot and sticky and could feel multiple stings as mosquitoes attacked the flesh on his exposed arms and neck. Cursing as he swatted at a particularly fat looking mosquito that had sated itself on his blood, he pulled his cell phone out yet again, hoping this time for a signal. Sighing in defeat and frustration, he slammed the phone shut and jammed it back into his pocket. He had once thought of moving out to the country with Jack and his wife, but this short expedition had convinced him that life in the suburbs wasn't all that bad, at least he could still use his cell phone in the neighborhood.
"Damn," he accidentally let a branch go too soon and it whipped him in the face, leaving a welt, just under his eye. He knew that he would be walking out looking worse for the wear with tiny scratches along his arms and dirt on his once clean and starched white shirt which now hung limply on his frame, sweat wetting it under the arms and at a point along his back. He truly hoped the others were having better luck than he was.
"Don't worry," Morgan rubbed Savannah's arms in an attempt to comfort her, "we'll find Aiken soon, if not us, then Hotch or one of the others searching will." She turned away from him, glaring at the creek, watching as a wayward branch was tossed about by the current.
"I just don't understand why anyone would want to kill Molly and Braden. She was the sweetest woman, a great mom to her two boys, and a wonderful friend. Braden is…was such a sweet kid, and so helpful. I remember the first day I met them. He offered to help me fix the door," she broke off; the rogue branch had become entangled in a water-logged root. Stooping to free the entrapped branch, Savannah swayed on the edge, Morgan caught her by the arm before she could fall into the murky waters. Biting back a cry of surprise, Savannah landed on her butt beside the tree whose roots had caught the branch, taking Morgan with her. Laughing bitterly, Savannah dug into the mud with the rescued branch.
Leaning heavily on the tree for support, Morgan raised himself up off the ground and into a half-standing position. Offering his free hand to Savannah, he nearly found himself in the creek when she batted his hand away. With a heavy sigh, he settled down next to her, "Savannah, look, I know that this is hard, but right now there is a lost boy out there who needs you to remain strong for him. Steve's going to need your support too. It sounds like Aiken really trusts you and if that is true; you need to be here for him – emotionally. I know you want to break down, hell, I'd even say that you are entitled to a break down, but you can't break down right now. Aiken needs you. I'll give you a moment, but we need to get up out of this mud and go find him."
While Morgan spoke, Savannah continued to dig circles into the mud. Though his words rang true, she could not bring herself to look up at him. Part of her was disappointed that the footprints had been a false lead, she had wanted so much to believe that Aiken had been here and that he was nearby, to have that hope dashed caused her heart to plummet. It was all some horrible nightmare she felt sure she would wake up from any minute. Pinching herself, she flinched when it did nothing to jar her out of this distorted dream-like reality she had found herself in a few short hours ago. As much as she didn't want to believe it, Molly and Braden were dead, Aiken was lost, and the madman who had killed her friends was God only knew where. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady herself, Savannah tossed the branch back into the swirling water and watched it make its way further down the creek before standing. Steadying herself with the tree, she offered a hand to Morgan, pulling him to his feet, "Let's get this done."
As he stood, something shiny at the edge of the creek bed caught his eye, "What is…?" He muttered to himself, as he reached for the object located in the tree just above Savannah's head. Plucking it from the low-hanging branch, he discovered that it was a kid's Scooby Doo watch. Turning to Savannah who had left the creek, he held up the watch, "Was this Aiken's?"
Peering closely at the watch held in Morgan's hand, she noticed the glass over the face of the watch had been broken. Nodding as if to herself, she took the watch, fingering the web-like cracks that had spidered across the small face, "Yeah, he never took this watch off. Molly said she had to battle him every night about takin' it off before his bath. His brother gave it to him for his birthday," she broke off, a thoughtful look on her face.
"And?" Morgan pressed, sensing that there was something being left unsaid.
"And, he was wearing this the other day, after he and his brother had come back from playing by the creek. As a matter of fact, he broke the face of it while helping me carry in a few tools from my truck," she smiled triumphantly. Aiken had been there not too long ago. He could be in her house this very moment!
"Let's get back to the house, he could be there. I hope he found Reid," hope could be heard singing in her voice as she led the way back toward her home.
Not wanting to dash her hopes, yet giving into the nagging doubt that weighed on his mind, Morgan cleared his throat, stopping Savannah in her tracks, "Savannah, if he never takes his watch off, how come I found it hanging in the tree? If it had somehow got stuck in the tree, he would've noticed it had gone missing and come looking for it."
Savannah did not like what Morgan was insinuating, her eyes worriedly scanned the whirling waters for a shock of brown hair and a white t-shirt. Relieved when her immediate fears were not realized, she glared in Morgan's direction, "Maybe he hasn't realized he lost it yet, God knows he's got a lot to occupy his mind right now. Or maybe, he gave up after looking for a while. He is not in that creek; I won't lose him too!"
Unsure of how best to comfort her, knowing that he had to be open to all potentialities – including that of the boy drowning – Morgan nodded in agreement, scolding himself for even alluding to his deepest fears in front of Savannah. Should have kept that to myself, he rebuked. He mentally stowed the possibility of Aiken falling into the creek and drowning for later. He would discuss that particular misgiving with Hotch.
"I'm sure you're right," he said with a smile and as much confidence as he could muster as he gestured for her to lead the way out of the woods and back toward her home where he prayed they would find the young boy safe with Reid.
Haven't I already been this way before? Hotch wondered as he looked at a vine-covered branch that looked slightly familiar. Hell, everything looks slightly familiar, he thought with malice. Sighing he carefully picked his way through yet another spider web, warily casting his gaze around for the spider that had made it as it was particularly large and he, though loath to admit it, had a phobia of spiders. Where am I? He questioned himself for about the hundredth time since he had gotten up off that log he had taken a break on not so long ago- or had it been longer than he thought? Looking at his watch, he was surprised to discover that twenty minutes had passed since he had turned back toward Savannah's home. It had been an hour since he had entered the swamp to search for Aiken. Why did I agree to a split up? He wondered.
Staving off the panic that clutched at his heart, refusing to admit that he was lost, Hotch pressed forward, determined to find Savannah's place. Ignoring the doubts that tugged at his intuition, he continued to walk in the direction he had been going for the past twenty minutes. Unwilling to admit that he should never have let himself get talked into splitting up though he had, along with Savannah, agreed that it would be better to look in more than one place at a time– it had saved time. Now, however, he regretted his decision.
Ouch, he swatted at another mosquito, leaving a bloody smear on his arm. Great, here I am in the middle of a swamp in Nowheresville, Alabama, lost. The irony of the situation caused him to bark out a laugh void of humor. Ah, there's the very log I rested on twenty minutes ago, grimacing, he sat down in an attempt to gather his bearings before starting off again, unwilling to give into the hysteria that wanted to take over. Closing his eyes, he took several deep calming breaths, wishing that he had better sense of direction.
Straining his ears, hoping to hear Morgan or Savannah shout that they had found Aiken, he was not surprised when the only sound that greeted him was the incessant buzz of the millions of mosquitoes that had apparently found his blood to be sweet nectar. Running a hand through his dark, short hair in exasperation he let out a frustrated breath. Taking out his cell phone, though he knew it would be futile, he looked for the bars that would indicate he had a signal and would be able to call Garcia to get a fix on his cell and tell him how to get back to Savannah's or at least to some sort of civilization. Weren't they supposed to have satellite phones so this wouldn't be a problem? He'd have to ask Garcia why they hadn't been able to pick up a signal here and briefly wondered whether anyone had attempted to contact Morgan, Reid, or himself. They had been at Savannah's for a couple of hours now. He wondered if the other teams had experienced better luck. Perhaps Aiken had wandered back home or been discovered by one of the other nine teams that had been dispatched throughout Rubin county.
Whether or not the young boy had been found by one of the other teams, Hotch knew that this particular search was over. Morgan, Reid, and he would be returning to their temporary headquarters just as soon as he found his way out of this godforsaken swamp. As much as he hated to admit defeat, he knew when to call it quits. He just hoped he would be able to convince the others that it was time to move on. As much as he was known for his immovability, he felt that if they pushed him even just a little on this particular case, he would give in. It wasn't too much of a stretch for him to imagine his own son – terrified, alone, and lost. He knew he would never give up the search should he be in a similar situation and felt immediate sympathy for Aiken's father. The man had to be going out of him mind.
Steeling himself, he gathered his wits, shaking off the trepidation that threatened to consume him and stood, determined to find his way back. Darkness gathered about him like a cloak. Looking up, he was surprised to see that the sky was rapidly being covered with dark storm clouds. Great, just what I needed, a rainstorm, he thought. Fat drops of rain fell lazily on his upturned face. Knowing that it would soon begin to rain in earnest, he hunched his shoulders and headed in the opposite direction he had gone in when he got lost. Having little hope that he would be able to find his way back in the storm, he hoped to at least find a temporary shelter within which to wait it out.
A flash of lightening lit up the swamp and was followed by a clap of thunder. Hotch had counted only two seconds between the flash and thunder. That was close. Another bright flash of lightning lit up the swamp with an unearthly green glow and was followed immediately by a loud crash of thunder not even a full second later. The unmistakable roar of a gunshot that followed caused him to shudder, and gave him a sudden sense of direction and a renewed sense of dread. Sprinting toward the echoing sound, Hotch was no longer aware of the branches that pulled at him or bit into the flesh of his face and arms, leaving small precise cuts in their wake, nor of the increased rain that pelted him. He only knew that one of his agents could be in trouble and prayed that it wasn't Reid; that young man had been through enough. As a second gunshot rang out, followed by another lightning bolt and thunder, Hotch readied his own weapon, ignoring the stitch that had developed in his side and ran with all his might, slipping and sliding in the mud.
As Morgan and Savannah wound their way toward the house, with a little more reluctance than either wanted to admit, gathering clouds caused them to increase their pace. Savannah halted at the edge of the woods, her eyes focused on a spot just beyond the vehicles parked in her drive. Morgan nearly collided with her still form.
"What is it?" He looked at her face, noting that it had gone rigid with alarm. Rain had begun to fall. Following her gaze, he saw what had halted her, and pulled his gun out. Pushing her behind him, he gestured for her to get on the ground and lie still. In spite of the cold rain and the muddied ground, Savannah complied, hoping that the additional vehicle in her driveway did not mean what she feared it did.
Morgan crouched, gun in hand, and approached the suspicious rust-eaten white coupe parked haphazardly in the driveway. Cursing as he slipped in the mud, he regained his footing, steadying his gun. Darkness mounted as he inched his way along the ground which grew increasingly muddy with the swelling rain. Though he hoped the car meant nothing more than a lost motorist, he remained taut and alert for any sudden movement. The look of apprehension that had been on Savannah's face eliminated the possibility that the vehicle belonged to one of her friends. Morgan was prepared for any possibility as he neared the car which was still running. Lying low, he crossed the last few feet on his belly, gun grasped firmly in two hands held out in front of him.
It seemed to Savannah that time had ceased its forward momentum. She watched Morgan inch his way toward the car that had mysteriously appeared in her driveway sometime between the time they had left the garage and headed back into the woods and now and shivered. How had they not heard the vehicle enter her driveway? The bubbling creek had probably drowned out the sound of the engine. Maybe Aiken had been there the whole time and hadn't heard them drive up, he could've entered the house shortly after they had left to go look for him. He could also have, as Morgan had suggested, fallen into the creek which would now be the size of a small river with the advent of the rain.
Tears co-mingled with the rain that streamed down Savannah's cheeks at the thought of Aiken's lifeless form being swept away in the swift current.
Wiping at her tears, she resolved to stop crying and be strong, if not for Aiken, then for Steve. Morgan was almost there. Maybe the car was only that of a lost motorist's. It wouldn't be the first time someone had become lost on this stretch of road and had come to her door looking for directions or had simply turned around in her driveway. She had probably just reacted in paranoia because of what had happened to Molly and Braden.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky and eerily illuminated the white coupe that sat between Morgan and the house. A loud peal of thunder followed, temporarily deafening Morgan. Paralyzed with fear Savannah let out a shriek as lightning struck again, alighting a branch above her head. Rolling to her left, she avoided being hit by the flaming branch by mere inches. Her breath came in short panicked gasps as she stared up at the darkness, rain pouring into her eyes. The simultaneous thunder was echoed by a gunshot. Savannah screamed in blind terror. A second gunshot resonated with the beating of her heart. Where is Morgan? Shutting her eyes, Savannah rolled until she collided with something solid. Not daring to open her eyes she succumbed to the darkness that had been threatening to take over since the storm began.
Picking himself up off the muddy ground for the third time, Hotch finally caught a glimpse of the white fence that surrounded Savannah's field when another flash of lightning lit up the sky. Increasing his speed, he hurdled the fence hoping to make it to the house before lightning struck for the fourth time. He made it to the other side and hurdled the fence again, not daring to enter the barn, lest it fall down around his head. Panic gripped his heart as another gunshot rang out and, twisting his ankle, he fell hard to the ground, and a nail from a loose board lodged itself into his thigh. White hot pain shot through him, temporarily blinding him in its intensity. Gritting his teeth, he dislodged the nail from his thigh and shakily stood as a fourth gunshot echoed in the dark. Swaying on his feet, he headed toward the house, a determined look on his face, his gun held out before him.