Author's Note:

So fast, I know! It helps I've had most of this chapter pre-written!

Monday, November 19th, 2012, 6:58 AM
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, VA

Hotch paced back and forth in his office, waiting for a phone call. Prentiss, JJ, Morgan, and Rossi soon walked in toting to-go coffee cups. Rossi handed one to Hotch, who took it gladly, drinking the strong, scalding contents thirstily.

Finally, the phone rang. He picked it up. "Agent Hotchner."

"It's Garcia."

Hotch paused. "Garcia, we're in Quantico."

"I'm not, remember? I stayed with Reid for when he woke?"

Hotch nearly slapped himself. "Right. Sorry. I hardly slept last night. What do you have for us, Garcia?" He put her on speaker.

"Okay, so at around 1:22 AM this morning Virginia State Police found the black car from the APB. Inside was a plastic bag with pieces of duct tape being sent for DNA and fingerprint analysis and the back seat had quite a bit of blood on it. The passenger seat also had pieces of medical supplies, such as gauze and a stitching needle. There was also an empty bottle of Costa Lazaridi Oinotria Land, which is a Greek wine. That too has been sent for DNA, fingerprint, and lip print analysis."

"What about a license plate?" JJ asked.

"The VA State Police weren't too keen on sharing, but I have a visual of the car from the security footage of this bar out in Roanoke. The license plate...is a West Virginian tag with 4SQ-147 written on it."

Everyone exchanged a look. "Reid had seen the tag and was trying to tell us that. He could only remember Eloise's number, no doubt, and so he called her and told her," Morgan said, saying what was on everyone's mind.

Hotch nodded. "And now we need to see that car."

Garcia giggled. "I have something even better than the address of the bar the car is parked at."

"Which is?" Rossi asked.

Garcia seemed to beam through the phone. "The address of a house under the registration of one Stan Fields."

Monday, November 19th, 2012 10:32 AM
House of Stan Fields, Roanoke, VA

Hotch knocked on the door, his hand on his holster if he needed to quickly draw his weapon and fire. Morgan and Rossi stood with him, both also with their hands on their holsters. Under their shirts they wore bulletproof vests, just in case it came to a shootout.

From inside there were heavy footsteps as someone ran to the door, along with the barking of a small dog. The deadbolt was unlocked by someone inside, and the door opened, a young man dressed in khakis and a light blue polo standing in front of them.

"Hello?"

"Is a Stan Fields here?" Hotch asked, flashing his badge.

"Fields? The last name's Carter, but no, he's out of town. He said about a week ago he was going to some convention and that he should be back, gosh, yesterday. I figured he was enjoying himself and didn't worry. But…Fields? Good God, Uncle!" the man said.

Hotch nodded, understanding. "I'm Agent Hotchner. We have a search warrant. We'd also like to ask you and whoever else is here with you some questions about your…uncle?"

The man nodded. "Certainly. Come on in. The name's Peter Carter, and Stan's my uncle, yes."

Hotch thanked him and let Morgan and Rossi enter the house first, signaling to the rest of the team to come inside. Prentiss and JJ were quick to hop out of the SUV and walk over.

Prentiss pulled Hotch aside momentarily. "Should I request-"

Hotch put up his hand. "No. He isn't here. He hasn't been here for nearly a week. He planned the whole thing out."

Prentiss shook her head. "First he's the most prolific – something along the lines of 1,190 people killed by one man – now he's extremely organized."

"The worst combination," Hotch agreed. "No wonder we were assigned his case back in January."

Prentiss shook her head and sighed as she entered the house, Hotch in tow.

Peter closed the door after them. "What can I help you with?"

Morgan quickly asked, "Where's his bedroom?"

Peter pointed up the beautiful wood staircase. "Upstairs and at the end of the hallway to the left. He usually keeps the door closed, but I wouldn't be surprised if this time he locked it as well, now that I know the truth."

Hotch nodded, and Morgan, Rossi, and JJ all went upstairs to the room, Hotch staying with Peter to ask him a few questions. "First, who is staying here?"

"Besides me and my uncle – rather, my uncle and I – it's just my parents. They came over in late April."

"Came over – what do you mean by that?"

"We live in Surrey, England, the birthplace of the Carter family. Stan stayed here to take care of Grandfather, and my father moved back to England just after Stan's wedding. I never did get to meet his wife Lucile nor his daughter Samantha. I was born in England afterwards."

"Who are your parents exactly?"

"Robert and Mellissa Carter."

"And where are they right now?"

"My mum is gardening out back and my father went out to lunch with some old friends."

Hotch nodded. "Now, when did you get here?"

Peter sighed. "Have a seat." The two sat in the kitchen at the small table. "Uncle Stan had asked me about nine months ago to come here to help him. He said he was in the hospital and had been in an accident. Of what nature he didn't tell me, but he said he would recover but need my help for a while since Aunt Lucile wasn't here anymore and neither was his daughter Samantha. I told him I'd be there when I could, and my father told me to get on a plane as soon as academy finals were done. The academy said I could take a leave of absence for however long I needed it, considering I'm one of the most diligent – and youngest – professors at Cambridge."

Hotch's eyes widened at that last bit of information, but he shook it off, asking, "Is there anything about Stan that may be important or anything seem out of the ordinary?"

Peter pursed his lips. "Well, he had a…particular, er, interest in Amy Nickhoales. He would always watch whatever she had on the television for the day. I've tried to get him tickets for a show, but he refused, saying it was better he' limited his exposure to the world due to present circumstances,' never elaborating on what circumstances he spoke of. Now I know what those were."

"PETER!" a female voice called from the back of the house. "What's going on?"

Peter stood. "COMING, MUM!" He turned to Hotch. "Forgive me."

Hotch stood and followed Peter to the back of the house, where Prentiss stood, talking to a petite blonde woman in her mid-to-late forties, early fifties with bright green eyes, suntanned skin, and an angered scowl on her face. She wore grass- and soil-stained jeans with a brown cap-sleeved V-neck shirt under a red windbreaker with gardening boots, gloves, and a floral apron. This was Mellissa Carter.

"Mum, the FBI is here-" Peter started, but Hotch interrupted.

"Forgive me. You are…Mellissa Carter, correct?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, I am, but why are you here?" she asked, her voice accented like a South African.

Hotch held out his hand. "My name is Agent Aaron Hotchner, and we're here because this house is registered under the name Stan Fields, and that is who we are looking for."

"But Stan Fields doesn't live here," Mellissa argued.

Peter put his hand on her shoulder. "Mum, Uncle Stan is Stan Fields."

Mellissa turned to her son in shock. "That's impossible! His last name is Carter, just like ours and your father's and your grandfather's and his father before him and-"

"We know that is his birth name, Mrs. Carter, but he changed it to Fields on top of using that as his stage name," Hotch said.

Mellissa set her gardening tools down next to the basket full of fresh garden vegetables on the small table against the wall in the room in which they were in, shocked. "I can't believe it. My own brother-in-law, a murderer, rapist, and pedophile." She shook her head. "This is all his father's fault, I know it. Had Mr. Carter never hurt his youngest son nor forced him to do many things, Stan would have been a wonderful man as well as a happy father and husband. He never would have met this Amy girl and he never would have…" Mellissa shook her head again. "Forgive me. You'll probably want to search the place-"

"We already are, Mrs. Carter," Hotch said.

Mellissa nodded. "I suspected as much. And please, call me Mellissa."

Hotch nodded as Morgan called, "HOTCH! YOU'RE GOING TO WANT TO SEE THIS!"

"Excuse me," Hotch said, then hurried upstairs to Stan's bedroom.

The room was neat and simply furnished, with a bed, a nightstand, a desk, a closet, a dresser, and a bookcase littered with books and trinkets. The walls were light blue, the floor dark hardwood, and it was extremely neat.

"It's almost like he has OCD," Hotch noted as he entered the room, taking in the perfect alignment of every item in the room.

"He's an extremely organized murderer, yes, but even down to the contents of his closet," Rossi said, pointing at the box Morgan was sifting through.

"Hotch, you will not believe what these are," Morgan said. "I can't believe I'm touching them."

Hotch bent down to look at them. "What are they?"

"The box simply has a giant A. S. P. on it, but the tapes are individually labeled. You will not believe what we have found," Morgan said.

Hotch instantly knew. "The missing evidence. The tapes Amy mentioned. These are them, aren't they?"

Morgan nodded. "All are labeled with her name and the date they were filmed."

Hotch shook his head. "We're going to have to watch them."

Morgan instantly shoved the box out of his lap. "I'm not watching these. I've lived it enough."

"And so has Amy. That's why we're helping her," Rossi said.

Morgan sighed, picking up the box reluctantly and putting it on the neatly-made bed before taking down another box. "Same deal with this?"

Hotch shrugged. "Open it. It's the only way to find out."

Morgan sighed again, but he opened the box and looked at its contents in confusion. "What the…?"

Hotch looked over his shoulder. Inside was a bloody knife.

"Whose blood?" Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm doubting it's Rebecca Galante's. The knife's too wide for the stab wounds found on her body."

The team members that were in the room continued searching for evidence.

"Guys, over here," JJ called from across the room at the desk an hour later.

Hotch and Rossi walked over quickly. "What is it?"

In her blue-gloved hands was a green velvet-covered journal. "I think we've found Amy's journal."

"He stole it? But why?" Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head. "We'll have to ask him when we finally arrest him."

"This may be the first case where I want to get to the arrest then fail because we finally killed him," Morgan said. "This son of a bitch needs to die this time."

Hotch shook his head. "Morgan, relax. We're going to get him, and we will not fire unless necessary. I almost don't want you with us when we make the arrest, but we'll need you." Hotch turned back to Rossi and JJ. "I have to get back downstairs to Mellissa and Peter, but keep searching. Whatever you find that could be good evidence, make sure we get it."

JJ suddenly kicked the bottom drawer on the right side of the desk then sighed. "I was hoping that would have done something to the lock."

"He has the key, I'm sure of it," Peter said from the doorway. Prentiss and Mellissa stood behind him.

Hotch sighed. "That won't help us now. Is there any way we can break the lock to get inside?"

Peter pursed his lips, then said, "I can try to saw the lock."

Mellissa hit his arm. "Peter! That is Stan's drawer."

"Mum, Uncle Stan isn't here, and soon it won't matter because he'll either be in prison or Hell," Peter said. "Besides, there could be important evidence inside that drawer."

Mellissa shook her head. "I helped him pack. He emptied that drawer."

Hotch narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"

Mellissa nodded. "He took out a black locked box and a smaller wooden keepsake box family in South Africa made him that he modified with a lock. Stan was a very private man, but he needed my help for packing for what we thought was a convention of some sort. I personally hoped he finally was going to an AA meeting."

"An AA meeting? He's an alcoholic?" JJ asked.

Mellissa nodded. "Peter, tell them what you told Agent Prentiss and me."

Peter sighed, then said, "There was many a night where he would come home by cab heavily intoxicated to the point the cabbie made me pay him extra. But once in April, he came home via cab and wasn't drunk at all. He told me not to worry about him – I should worry about him when he was drunk – but I was suspicious. He even had some coffee when he got home. Stan hates coffee."

"Is it possible that the date was April 13th?" Hotch asked.

Morgan turned to Hotch. "You're not suggesting he was the man out on the sidewalk smoking when we left Amy's birthday party, are you?"

Hotch nodded as Mellissa said, "Smoking? Stan doesn't smoke."

Peter sighed. "Yes, and as of two hours ago, he was still supporting stronger gun control laws, cutting down on fuel costs, and the death penalty. As of two hours ago, Uncle Stan was a free man to us. Now, we know he's a wanted fugitive of the law, a murderer, a rapist, and a gun carrier."