Chapter 11
Late or Living
"Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again." - Sarah Ban Breathnach
The group of lads stood in a tight circle, laughing and comparing ring tones. Billy had just bought a Blackberry, and was showing off a little. They looked intimidating, they all knew, and often people would cross the road to avoid them, but they were good lads really. The worse they ever did was nick from Walmart.
Zig the uncontested leader, looked up when he heard someone approach.
"Hey! ...Excuse me!"
The woman was a mess. She looked to Zig as if she had been smacked around. He nudged the lad standing next to him, and the group quietened, and looked at the woman.
"My name is Emily Prentiss, with the FBI.I need your help." she said weakly
Zig and his right hand man Pete went to her and helped her to sit on the kerb. Pete called nine one one.
"Please...call..."
Emily was exhausted. She had found herself in the middle of nowhere when she came out of the building where she had left Hotch. Each second that she left him was a second he came closer to dying. She ran towards the town, and when she saw the lads in a group on the outskirts of Quantico, she almost cried with relief. Now, sitting down with a mobile phone within reach, her body gave up.
With a sigh, she slumped sideways against Zig and passed out.
"Ambulance is on its way." Pete said. "Do you think she really is a Fed?"
"Could be." Zig said, checking her pockets. "She's not carrying anything."
Billy was tapping her name into his Blackberry. "In case we forget!" he grinned.
Zig put his arm around the unconscious woman, and they waited for the ambulance.
-0-0-0-
He sat in front of the monitor, un-zipped his pants, and switched it on. This was the finest way to check Emily's loyalty. Let's see what she does to the Hotchner person when she's alone with him.
The screen flashed into life, and quickly the light setting adjusted.
He leaned forwards on his chair, not quite believing what he was seeing.
"How the Hell?..." he shouted. His chair fell backwards as he leapt to his feet.
On the screen, he saw the chain on the ground. A dark stain on the floor where the man had been.
He picked up the monitor and hurled it across the trailer with a roar of anger. A flash of sparks as the monitor smashed on the wall. He ran outside and got in his car.
Disloyal bitch! After everything I offered to you, you do this to me! I'll bloody kill you!
He gunned the engine and sped away, clouds of dust in his wake.
-0-0-0-
"Wait here." Dave told the taxi driver. "I will get the fare."
The driver watched his strangely dressed passenger run into the main door of the FBI head quarters with a bemused smile on his face. Seconds later the man returned and paid him.
"Keep the change." he said, and turned and ran inside again.
Rossi took the lift to the bullpen and braced himself for the looks he was sure to get. It wasn't often that a senior profiler arrived at work in his PJ's and dressing gown. He stepped out of the lift into a deserted room. Then he realised that his family was in the conference room.
When he entered, Garcia was in the middle of telling the team what she had found out about the roses. She hesitated when Dave went in, and he felt three pairs of eyes staring.
"Carry on." he said, seating himself beside her.
"I...um...and...yes, I found three places that sell these roses to the general public. I have a list of all purchasers. One name came up on the list from two of the outlets. I ran the name and came up with this."
She passed copies of what she had found to her colleagues.
"William Sanders. He has a history of alcohol abuse, with several DUI convictions. Until recently he was employed as a technical adviser at Marchants, the building materials manufacturer. He lost his job a month ago for turning up drunk."
"Substance abuse is a common history for stalkers." Rossi said. "Losing his job could have been the stressor."
"Adjustment Disorder?" Morgan asked.
"Possible." Dave said. "Do we have an address?"
"We do," Garcia said, "But it's three years old. "
"Ok," Morgan said. "I have some Security tape stills here." He passed the pictures around. "The Toyota is registered to Sanders, address is the three year old one."
Morgan had that twitchy feeling inside that he got when they were closing in on an UnSub.
"Dave, do you want to come to check out the address?"
Dave nodded. "I have a change of clothes." He left the room and went to his office where he kept a bag packed in case he needed to fly out at short notice.
Jeans, pale blue shirt and tie, and a navy cord jacket. Fortunately he had some shoes there too. Brown loafers. He put them on without socks.
He met Morgan by the lift.
"Take this." he said, passing Rossi a gun. "We might need it."
Morgan followed Rossi into the lift, happy to defer to him. His mobile buzzed as they crossed the parking area.
"Morgan." he said in a clipped tone. He stopped walking and listened. He thanked the caller, and straight away called Garcia.
"Just can't keep away, can you, Sir Knight!"
"Baby Girl, Emily has been taken to hospital. She was found in the street by a group of lads. I'm sending you the location where she was picked up so that you can include it when you search Sanders' background."
"Is she ok?" Garcia asked, more than a little worried.
"She passed out with delayed shock, but she woke up on the way to hospital. She asked them to call me. I am going to get JJ to go and see her, find out where she was held, and if Hotch was there."
He closed the phone, and looked at Rossi, who had stopped, and was listening. He nodded ok, and Morgan called JJ as they continued across the lot to the SUV.
-0-0-0-
Sanders drove around the back of the storage building. This time he didn't bother to hide the car. He got out and ran inside, leaving the car door open. He switched on the light at the top of the stairs.
"Emily!" he called. His voice echoed around the vaulted ceiling. "Emily, Sweetheart, where are you?"
She had gone. And there at the bottom of the stairs was Hotchner. Not only was she disloyal to him, the one who loves her, but even to this other man.
His love for Emily was changing.
He went down the stairs. Hotchner had a gun in his hand, and he was trying to point it at him. He was too weak though, and his hand fell back as he groaned helplessly. Sanders kicked his hand and the gun skitted across the floor.
"So she dumped both of us." he said, looking down into dark tired eyes. "We have to move from here, Hotchner, because they are going to come for us."
He grasped Aaron under the arms and began to pull him up the stairs. Hotch's head fell forward, and his arms hung limp from Sanders' grip. He had no fight left in him; struggling was not an option. As his legs knocked against the steps, he cried in pain as the shock reached his knees, and waves of agony engulfed him. When they reached the top, Sanders kicked open the door, and continued the agonising journey to the car.
Sanders dropped Hotch at the car, undecided whether to dump him in the boot, or shove him in the back. He hadn't planned for this, and he was aware that now was when mistakes could be made. His first mistake was not checking Hotchner properly for guns. He didn't want to make another.
He decided on the boot. It was less likely that he would be spotted.
He picked up his injured prisoner again. Damn Emily, ruining his plans.
He had a third thought; to kill him here and be done with it.
No. He could be useful. If he doesn't die first.
With each breath, Hotchner gave a distressed moan. Sanders didn't want to be listening to that while he drove. Another reason to put him in the boot of the car.
He rolled Aaron over the lip and into the boot. Then he slammed the lid shut.
He drove away from the building, not knowing where he was going to take him.
-0-0-0-
As Rossi drove to the Sanders house, Morgan was on the phone to Garcia.
"About half a mile from where Emily was picked up, there is a disused wine storage depot. From Em's description, it could be the place. I'm uploading the address now."
"What's the connection with Sanders?"
"His Dad was a night watch man there. Apparently he often took William to work with him after his mother left when he was seven."
"Thanks kitten. I think we might go there first. Has the car been spotted?"
"Nothing yet. I'll keep you posted."
Morgan turned to Rossi. "Garcia has found an address that could be where he's holding Hotch." He read out the address. Rossi turned the car around without slowing, and headed out of town. They didn't speak until Rossi pulled into what was once a staff car park. The tarmac was cracked with weeds pushing up through the gaps.
"No car." he said, getting out of the SUV. "He might have gone when he realised that Prentiss had escaped."
They crouched, guns ready, and ran to the door. They stood on either side, adrenalin pumping. Morgan reached across and pushed it open. They stood listening for a second, then Rossi signalled to Morgan, and they entered.
There was no sound. Rossi switched on his flashlight and swept the room. There were several doors, but one had obviously been used recently. They went to the door, Rossi pointing his gun ahead, Morgan checking behind.
They took the same stance at the second door. Although they were fairly certain that the UnSub was no longer around, that was when mistakes were made, mistakes that cost lives. Again Morgan opened the door. Rossi swept the room again, the flashlight just powerful enough to reach the corners of the storage space. Morgan's torch picked out blood on the steps, leading from a dark bloody stain at the bottom of the stairs.
They cautiously descended into the basement. Morgan kept his light trained on the blood where only a few minutes before, Hotch had been lying. Rossi found his gun.
"Aaron's ankle gun." he said. "It's missing two rounds."
"Emily shot two rounds to break the chains."
"Hotch didn't get a shot off." Rossi said.
"Look at this." Morgan said. There was a blood soaked blanket close by, and further in they found the chain and more blood.
"He's lost too much blood." Dave said gently. "We're running out of time."
-0-0-0-
Hotch was lying semi conscious in the boot of Sanders' car. He was awake enough to be hurting, but not enough to think. He shifted slightly, and his knees caught on the side of the cramped prison he was lying in. He cried out at the dreadful pain, his hands in his hair, he pulled, digging his fingers into his scalp. He realised that he had no feeling below the knees, whereas before, he felt radiating pain up into his groin, and downwards to the soles of his feet, now the pain was only travelling upwards. He had a flash image of himself as an amputee. He felt tears of pain flood his face and dampen his hair. and he prayed to his estranged god that Emily was safe.
