Ma Petite Chère
Disclaimer: I still in no way own anything connected to Criminal Minds. Darn it.
Summary: It's been a few months since Hotch and Emily took in the teenage Amy, and everything seems to fall into place until something unexpected throws the family through a loop...
Sequel To: Mon Petit
A/N: I hope you're all still enjoying the story. And without furthur ado, you'll catch a glimpse of who has Amy at the end.
Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, "Wisdom is only found in truth."
Pounding on the large door, Emily had to be physically restrained back to keep her from kicking in the door.
"Yes?" an older woman asked, eyeing the three people standing before her.
"Sister Colleen?" Dave interjected, "I'm Agent Rossi, these are Agents Hotchner and Prentiss, FBI."
"Oh, I remember you," the woman smiled down at Emily, "You're the young lady that adopted one of our former students... Amellia Grey?"
"Now Amy Hotchner," Hotch interrupted, "Yes ma'am. We need to speak with Zoe Green please."
"Whatever for?" the older woman asked, allowing the three agents in to her office, "Please take a seat."
Hotch remained standing while both Emily and Dave took a seat in the large chairs.
"Our daughter is missing," Emily told the woman who instantly wore a sympathetic look, "And we just like to question Zoe to see if she knows any place that Amy might like to go..."
"Saints be with the child," the nun whispered making the sign of the cross, "I can ask Zoe if she'll speak with you, but that'll have to be up to her."
The three sat in silence watching as Sister Colleen picked up the phone and quietly spoke into the receiver.
"She'll be right down," Colleen informed them.
Another loud knocking, this one more persistent than the previous only angered the man standing in front of it.
"What?" the man asked, willing his eyelids to open, "Who are you?"
"Agents Morgan and Reid, FBI" Morgan said, eyeing the man with contempt, "We're looking for one of your missing students."
"A missing student?" he asked, "Who?"
"Amy Prentiss Hotchner," Reid stated, watching as the man's face paled at hearing the name, "I believe she's one of your students?"
"Yes, yes she is," the man said, clearing his throat, "Please come in."
"Thank you, Mr. Carter," Morgan said, shooting Reid a look as the two men entered the small, quaint but cozy home.
"Do you have any children here, Mr. Carter?" Reid asked, looking at the plaques on the wall and frowning but followed the man into the living room.
"My son's not here at the moment," Carter said, taking a seat on the couch, "He's visiting his mother in Michigan."
"Mm hmm," Reid hummed writing that down, "And can you tell us where you were last night, Mr. Carter?"
"Jerry, please" Carter stated, "Last night? I was here... wait, can I ask why you're questioning me?"
"We're questioning everyone in Amy's life," Morgan stated, keeping his eyes trained on the man, "Everyone that's been alone with her the past forty-eight hours. You were alone with her, weren't you Mr. Carter?"
"I don't like the tone or the accusation, Agent," Carter said, "I'm her guidance counselor. My job is to protect her future, I'd never do anything to harm it."
"So where were you?" Reid asked again.
"Here last night going over papers to help a few of my students with their post high school education," Carter told the two, "I have the papers if you'd like to look at them. I was helping one boy with his financial aid papers. Look, I would never do anything to hurt my students, I care about my kids."
Reid looked over when Morgan's cell phone rang, "Excuse me."
Morgan walked over to the kitchen, while Reid continued questioning the counselor.
"Can I ask what you two talked about in your sessions?" Reid asked, clicking on the tip of the pen ready to take notes.
"That's actually private," Carter told him, "I'd really like to help but I wouldn't want to break any confidences."
Reid raised an eyebrow at that, "You're not a certified counselor, Mr. Carter, so the actual confidentiality clause doesn't apply. Don't you want to help us find Amy?"
"Of course I do," Carter sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, "Most of my notes are in my office at the school, but what we mostly talked about was how she was transitioning from being an orphan to being bounced around from foster home to foster home to her finally being taken into a permanent home."
"What did she say about that?" Reid asked, his eyes trailing over to his partner who was pacing back and forth with his cell phone attached to his ear, "Mr. Carter?"
"She did confirm that she had thought about her biological parents every once in a while but that she was happy with her current living arrangements with the Hotchners," Carter told the younger man.
"Has she said anything about feeling uncomfortable?" Reid started seeing the confused look on his face, "Like if someone had followed or was watching her?"
"Not really," Carter answered, "Though the past week or so, I've noticed that she's been picking at her cuticle."
Reid's eyebrow shot up, "What?"
"Her thumbnail looked worn down," he explained, "It's a very unhealthy habit. That's why I wanted her to seek a therapist to talk about any emotional problems she might be experiencing."
"Mm hmm, all right. Ok," Morgan's voice emanated from the other room, "We'll be there in a few minutes. Ok, bye."
The two talking men looked up once Morgan returned to the living room, "All right, Mr. Carter if you think of anything else please give us call."
With that, Morgan gave the older man a business card, "Come on, Reid."
Walking outside, Morgan paused in front of their Bureau issued SUV then looked over at the puzzled Reid.
"I have a really bad feeling about that guy," the older man told Reid.
"Then why did you cut the interview short?" Reid asked.
"We have no proof," he told him, "I had Garcia run his background, and there's some inconsistencies. We need to get back to the BAU."
As the two men quickly got back into the SUV, Carter looked out the front window watching as the two drove away.
"Sorry about that, Sister" Zoe said, rushing down the stairs, "I was in the cafeteria. You know how the breakfast shift is..." the petite blonde paused when she saw the two agents stand up to look at her, "Agent Hotchner, Agent Prentiss. How are you?"
"Hello Zoe," Emily greeted the surprised girl, "Sorry to come at such an early hour."
"That's fine," she said, looking around the room her eyes landing on Dave then to Emily, "Is Amy here?"
"No," Hotch started, he noticed Emily starting to pick at her thumbnail, "That's why we're here, about Amy."
The girl scoffed, "She sent you to tell me to stop emailing her, didn't she?" the girl shifted uncomfortably, "Look, I am sorry if it seemed like I'm harassing her or something but I just wanted to know why she's mad at me."
"Zoe," Dave said startling the girl of his appearance, "When's the last time you heard from Amy?"
"Almost three months ago?" she frowned, "Why?"
Hotch and Emily exchanged a look, "Are you sure it was that long ago?"
"Yeah," she said, "Why?"
"There's something you need to know," Hotch started, pausing due to his heavy heart.
"Amy's missing," Dave cut his friend off, watching the blonde's face go from surprised to confused to terrified.
"Missing?" Zoe repeated, tears welling up in her blue eyes, "What do you mean missing? Did she runaway, or did someone..." she started crying, "Did someone take her?"
"We're not sure yet," Emily answered softly, trying to control her own breaking heart, "That's why we're here."
"You think she might have tried to come back here?" Zoe asked, Sister Colleen coming around from her desk and escorting the shaking girl to the dark brown couch.
"We hope so," Emily told the girl sitting on the other side of her, "Do you know of any places she'd like to go to clear her head or to be alone?"
"Well," the girl exhaled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, "There's the pond in the park."
"Which park?" Dave asked, watching Hotch pull out his cell phone.
"The one across the street from the library on Main Street," she said, "She likes to go there to feed the ducks."
Emily smiled at the mental image, "Any other places?"
"We use to go to the library to use the internet," she admitted, "Before we won the laptops this past Spring."
"Zoe," the nun scolded the girl, "You know that students internet access is always monitored."
"I know that," she told the older woman sighing, "But we did it anyway."
"Ok, what sites did you go on?" Dave asked, focusing back on the case, "Did she go on any social networking sites?"
"Huh?" the girl asked, shaking her head, "No she never really got into Facebook or anything. I mean she does have those accounts but she rarely goes on them. She was more interested in..."
"In what?" Hotch asked, folding his arms as he peered down at the teenager, who looked like she wished she were anywhere but here.
"I'm the one more interested in the Facebook, Twitter thing," she rambled on, "Amy's more into whole super spy thing, you know with the FBI thing."
"Meaning?" Emily asked, looking over at Hotch, her mind going in several different scenarios but not liking any of them.
"Well first she was trying to track you down," Zoe confessed, "I mean she was looking into tracking down her birth parents, which you know she thought was you, Agent Prentiss. But then when got sidetracked with that Music Box killer and you..."
"Good Heaven," Sister Colleen murmured, "That was a few weeks before the field trip to your FBI building."
"I know," Hotch answered, composing himself, "When she did her investigation into her birth parents, what methods did you two do?"
"She had her birth certificate, and those immunization records," Zoe confessed, "But there was nothing on there about her biological mom. And when she found out that you had a baby at Georgetown University Hospital, she automatically zeroed in on you."
Emily bit her lower lip, she knew all this. But her thoughts were on, did she runaway or was she abducted?
"You're going to find her, right?" Zoe asked.
"Yes, we will." Emily said, straightening up her eyes traveling to Hotch whose cell phone went off.
"Excuse me," Hotch apologized, walking towards the bookshelf behind him leaving the three women in silence.
"Agent Prentiss?" Zoe quietly called out to the brunette, "You know Amy reviewed all your cases when she learned your name."
"Did she?" the mother murmured refocusing her attention on the girl, "What cases did she look at?"
The girl frowned, seemingly looking into her memory before her blue eyes met Emily's "That case where those two foster brothers murdered families... um, I think it was in Colorado."
"Yeah," the agent said, her mind instantly going to the orphaned Carrie. That was the only other girl who had tugged at Emily's heart before meeting Amy.
And that time Hotch didn't agree with her idea of taking in that orphaned girl, but this time with Amy... it was fate. She liked to think so on her end, but did he? And for that matter, did Amy too?
Her eyes traveled back to the quietly talking man. Why was he being so calm while she was trying to not have a complete and utter meltdown?
"We'll be right there," Hotch said before turning around and pocketing his cell phone, "Thank you for your time. We'll be back if we need further information."
"Certainly Agent Hotchner," Sister Colleen said, standing up, "Our thoughts are with your family."
"Thank you," he said, "Come on."
As the three agents walked out the door, Emily looked back to her daughter's friend and wondered how things could have changed in the matter of months.
"Ok, these my prettiest pretty are the last known pings on our Amy's cell phone," Garcia said, "It took some doing to get the cell phone carrier to release them."
"Why the hell did they take so long?" JJ asked, as she and Will looked over the projector in the conference room, "You did tell them you were with the FBI, right?"
"Well of course I did," the blonde said indignantly, "But then they said something about court orders or privacy rights. And then I told them a FBI agent's daughter was missing and they finally conceded."
"And what are we looking at?" Will asked, standing up to look at the screen, "That red ping, that's her, right?"
"Was her," Garcia corrected, watching as all eyes landed on here in frightened, "God, not that" exhaling she stood up walking over to the projector, "You see this circular area here?"
"Yeah?" Will asked, rubbing the tense shoulders of his wife, "Was that were she last was?"
"Half correct," Garcia told him, "Her last missed called was after nine-fifteen in the P.M."
"So her cell phone's turned off?" Morgan asked, "Why didn't you tell us that?"
"Because my mocha," Garcia told him, "It was just turned on for three minutes and I tried tracking a trace and only got a partial but someone interceded it."
The sound of three footsteps made the group turn around to the slacken faces of the concerned parents while Dave manuevered over to look at the latest updates.
"Someone?" Hotch asked, watching as the group looked back remorsefully to the two parents, "Is there any way to find out who?"
"I've got Kevin down in my office checking on that," Garcia told him, "He's got his eye monitoring her emails too."
"We talked with Amy's friend Zoe," she said, taking a seat at the round table while unzipped her coat, "She said, that sometimes Amy likes to go to the park and feed the ducks."
"Aw," Garcia started, then realized they obvious that the girl was not there, "Sorry."
"And she wasn't there," Morgan finished, "Damn it, where the hell did she go?" rubbing his hand over his head, "She didn't just vanish in to thin air."
"What do you got, Garcia?" Hotch asked, moving over to the boards and looking at the compiled information they gathered in their absence.
"So far, we've got bupkis," Garcia answered regretfully, "Last night her cell phone was here on your block," she circled the area on the map, "And at nine-fifteen Amy turned left instead of going straight."
"Down Third and Maple," Hotch murmured, "Did you check to the offenders registry to see if there are any..."
"Yeah," Garcia whispered, swallowing, "There are three registered sex offenders."
Emily looked away from the screen, closing her eyes at that thought. This possibility had been present in her mind, but she had held onto a small shred of hope that she could be wrong. Right?
"Two of the offenders are preferential to boys," Garcia said, disgust evident in her tone, "And the third had been picked up two weeks ago..."
Emily let out a quiet sigh of relief. She didn't want Amy or any other child harmed, but knowing that the only offender that preferred girls was already locked up made her happy at that moment.
"So what else do we got?" Emily asked, "What about her online journals? What did you find there?"
"Going over them, there was a bunch of things about school, a few things about her former families and one thing really caught my eye."
"Which was?" Hotch asked, trying to mask the irritation in his voice.
"In one of her entries, she made reference about her father," Garcia answered looking at Hotch, "About her real father, and wondered what it would have been like if he knew about her and if she had ever existed."
No one spoke after hearing that, but both JJ and Will shot the silent parents sympathetic looks. That had to be every adoptive parents worst nightmare, other than a biological parent coming forward to reclaim their child.
"Anything else?" Emily asked, trying to remain composed. She knew now wasn't the time to lose it, finding Amy was more important. She could ask the girl those questions later on.
"Um yeah, I'm still going through the journals," Garcia said, retraining her attention on the screen in front of her, "I've got to ask, when you two filed the adoption papers, did either of you get a copy of her background?"
"What?" Morgan asked.
"Kevin just sent me this," Flipping the computer screen around, "Amy's file at Family Services has numerous red flags in them."
"What kind of 'red flags'?" Hotch asked, walking over to the blonde and leaning in, "What's that?"
"It looks like someone tried to hack into the D.C.F.S. database," she told him, "And did a very good job at it, because this is very protected main frame."
"Can you try to find out who did it?" Dave asked.
"Let me try," she muttered, clicking away on the computer while the others looked on.
Amy flicked the channel on the remote control, pausing when she saw the news bulletin on the babysitter killer.
"Still no leads in the case," the news anchor replied, "Despite what's been reported the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit is still active on the case."
The brunette looked up when the bedroom door opened to the smiling face of the other person.
"Hey, I bet you thought I forgot all about you," the girl watched as a lunch tray was set down on the small desk beside the door.
"Fat chance of that happening," Amy muttered, lowering the volume on the television.
"You shouldn't be watching things like that," the person said taking the remote from Amy, "Look what I brought you, a lap top."
"Great," she dryly answered.
"Oh, you'll never guess who came by for a little visit," their eyes looking upon confused brown ones, "Your parents."
Amy's eyes met that of the person standing in front of her, "They were here?"
"Of course they were," the person chuckled, "What, did you just expect them to forget about you?"
The young brunette rolled her eyes, turning her head away from the smirking face in front of her. The person sighed, "You're not going to make this easy are you?"
"Not really," the sullen teen muttered, keeping her eyes on the black laptop, "What's that for?"
"To go online, duh," walking the laptop over to her, "Here, just stay out of your emails and usual haunts. After all you wouldn't want them finding you, right?"
"No," Amy muttered, opening up the electronic device. "So there's nothing about me online, huh?"
Walking over to the door, the person paused looking back at the girl, "I'm sure they're just sifting through all the leads."
Amy looked up, "Zoe?"
"Yeah?" the blonde asked turning to the girl.
"What do I do now?" she asked her friend.
"I don't know, that's up to you," the girl said, walking out the door, "After all this was your plan, not mine."
Falling against the pillows on her friend's bed, she placed the laptop on her stomach, "But was it a good one?"
"We are more often treacherous through weakness than through calculation." Francois De La Rochefoucauld
Until Next Time...
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