A/N: The plot thickens but details are beginning to emerge. Hope you enjoy this next part and remember to vote in the Annual Profiler's Choice Awards. There are a lot of great nominees and here's a good chance to maybe find a new story you haven't read before. To vote, go to:

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The ride to Hotch's apartment building was made in silence, though JJ stole a look at Rossi every now and then. Several times she thought of saying something and got as far as opening her mouth only to shut it again. When Rossi finally pulled into a parking space, he shut off the ignition and turned to look at JJ.

"What's on your mind? You've been wanting to say something since we left."

JJ squirmed slightly in her seat, not sure how to approach the subject, but she just had to know what Rossi thought. Afterall, he was close to both Hotch and Prentiss.

"Do you think Beth had a right to be suspicious about them? About Hotch and Emily?"

"That they're involved? No," Rossi said in a firm tone. But he paused and added, "But, I do think she picked up on some underlying emotions there that likely neither Aaron nor Emily themselves were aware of."

"So you don't think it was all in Beth's imagination?"

Something in JJ's tone caused Rossi to look at her sharply. "What is it?"

JJ sighed and got out of the car. Rossi did the same and she looked over the roof of the car at him. "Morgan was just saying something about it yesterday. He said that he's always seen something between them, like how Hotch doesn't seem to treat Emily the same way he does the rest of us." Rossi grunted a noncommittal noise, causing JJ to look sharply at him. "What? You've noticed it too?"

They started walking towards Hotch's apartment building. "I've known Aaron a long time and one thing he's always been is fair and equitable with his colleagues. In other words, he doesn't play favorites and he doesn't unduly punish someone unless they've done something to earn it. I've seen him act both ways towards Prentiss. Critical without cause to be, but he also listens closely to what she has to say. He takes her comments and advice seriously. He also watches her, especially when another man is around her. Remember when John Cooley came to visit her?"

"Back during her friend's Matthew's case?"

Rossi nodded. "I'm not even sure he realized it, but he was watching them from his office window. I notice he does that a lot, watches her from his office."

"Do you think he'll ever do anything about it?"

Rossi shrugged as he pressed the button on the intercom to call the security guard on duty at the desk. "I'm not sure if Hotch realizes what this could all mean. I hope if he does do anything about it, he waits until this entire mess is cleared up and over with."

"Why?"

"Because if he doesn't, he throws Emily right into this murder investigation."

Morgan frowned as he rang Mrs. Mundy's doorbell for a third time. Where were they? Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps and the door was yanked open.

"What?!" Garcia barked out.

"Baby Girl?" Morgan was startled by her appearance and her abruptness. Garcia's makeup was completely gone. Her hair was disheveled like she had been constantly running her fingers through it. She looked exhausted and more than a little annoyed.

"Oh it's you," Garcia said grumpily as she moved away from the door to let him in.

"Good to see you too, Garcia," Morgan replied in a slightly offended voice as he closed the door behind him. He followed Garcia as she went upstairs. "You and Mrs. Mundy make much headway?"

"We are so close, Morgan," Garcia replied. "I can just taste it!"

"I've got it!" Mrs. Mundy yelled out. Garcia and Morgan hurried to the spare room. The old woman looked up excitedly. "I've finally found the little bastard!"

"You sure you wouldn't prefer to have someone else do this? Rossi perhaps?" Emily asked Hotch again as they sat across from each other in two chairs, their knees almost touching.

"Like I said earlier, Emily, you're the best interviewer we have," Hotch reiterated. He smiled wryly. "Considering the urgency of the situation, I think any potential embarrassment is minor in comparison."

"Okay, let's get started." Emily's voice dropped and became low and soothing. "Close your eyes. Let's go back to two nights ago. You're finishing up some paperwork at the office. It's late. What do you hear? What do you smell?"

"Vacuuming," Hotch replied without hesitation. "Cleaning fluid, pine. It's late, no one but the cleaning crew is around."

"Do you stay?" Emily makes a note that it had to be around eight o'clock as that was the typical time the cleaning crew made it to their offices.

"No, I gather my things. The Berkeley and St. Paul files. I want to look at them later."

"Do you speak to anyone as you leave?"

"No. The cleaning crew is on the opposite end of the offices. I don't see anyone."

"Do you take the elevator to the parking garage?"

"Yes."

"Do you see anyone as you go to your car?"

"No, everyone is gone for the day."

"Okay, you get into your car and you drive. Where do you drive?"

Hotch frowns for a moment and then his brow clears. "Grocery store. I'm out of coffee at home and I don't feel like making dinner. I can get something at the deli there."

The grocery store was new information. He hadn't remembered going there before. However, Emily keeps her voice at the same low, soothing even tone it was before. "Okay, you've parked in the grocery store parking lot and get out of your car. You go inside. What do you see? Hear? Smell?"

"People, but not too many. It's not crowded but there are some people shopping. I can smell chicken. The rotisserie. I get my coffee. Some milk and oatmeal. Chicken. I think I want chicken for dinner. I go towards the rotisserie counter and then-"

"Hotch?" Emily asked when he paused. He's frowning, his forehead wrinkled. "What is it?"

"I don't get there," he falters. "I start to go there, but I don't get there."

"What stops you from going to the rotisserie counter?"

"I-, I'm not sure." Hotch's frown deepened as he tried to remember what happened. He can see himself picking up the coffee. He can see his hand reaching for the milk and placing it in his shopping basket. He can smell the chicken he has decided to buy for his dinner.

"Do you see someone? Hear something?"

Aaron!

Hotch's eyes fly open. "Beth. Beth was at the store and she called out my name."

"What does she say to you?"

Please Aaron, we need to talk. I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I know I don't have any right to ask this, but I need your help.

"She's asking for help." He closed his eyes and concentrated. Memories begin to come back to him with Emily's gentle probing.

There's this man, well, he used to service our computers at the museum but we discontinued his services when he made several of the female employees, myself included, uncomfortable. He's been sending me emails and calling me at home and work.

That's a matter for the local police, Beth. Get a restraining order.

I don't know if I need to go that far. He hasn't done anything except been persistent and given me a creepy feeling. Please, if you could just take a look at the emails and see if he sounds dangerous first. I know I have no right to ask you to do this, but I'm really scared, Aaron.

Hotch's eyes flew open. "I went with her, back to her apartment to look at the emails. When we got there, she showed me the emails and offered me a drink. Water. I had some water." He frowned again. "It gets fuzzy after that."

"Try to focus on your other senses. Sounds, smells, touch."

Hotch closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. Scratchy, he remembered feeling something scratchy. It was a woolen throw that Beth had in her living room. He was lying against it and it was scratching the skin on the back of his neck.

Voices. Angry voices. He could only understand some of the words.

There's been a change in plans.

What do you mean? I paid you a lot of money to take care of this!

I know, but I'm not going to let you hurt her.

What? Oh for God's sakes, don't tell me you've fallen for that whore too?

"There's someone else in the apartment with us," Hotch whispered.

I am not going to let you hurt her!

What are you going to do about it? You're in as deep as I am and if I go down, so will you!

Not if you go down first.

What are you doing? Get away from me! Help! Someone help me!

"Breaking glass…he's hurting her, but they want to hurt her. I can't let them hurt her! I won't!"

"Who's there with you and Beth, Hotch?"

"Man, male voice. They want to hurt her! I have to stop them from hurting her!"

He was becoming more and more agitated and his hands began to move restlessly. Emily reached out to grasp his flailing hands and squeeze them comfortingly. "Shush, it's okay." Hotch must have been there when Beth was killed and he was unable to do anything about it. He had to have been drugged.

"No! I have to protect her! I have to make sure they don't hurt her! Emily!" Hotch yelled.

"Hotch! Hotch! It's okay, I'm here! Hotch!" He had risen from his seat. Emily stood too and grasped his shoulders, shaking him lightly to try to bring him back to the present. His eyes flew open and he looked wildly around him for a moment before his gaze settled onto her worried face. Hotch reached up with one trembling hand and he touched her cheek. Her surprised look caused him to jerk his hand away, as though the warm skin had scalded him.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Hotch nodded. "Yes." It came out raspy and Hotch cleared his throat. "It seems there was someone else in the apartment with me and Beth. She used the ruse of a stalker to get me over there."

"But what caused the change in plans? Why did her partner kill her?" Emily frowned. "You said 'they want to hurt her', are you sure it was just one man's voice you heard?"

Hotch stared at her a moment. He opened and closed his mouth and then said abruptly. "Excuse me." He brushed past her to go to the bathroom, passing Gibbs who had been standing in the doorway listening, without another glance.

Emily looked after Hotch in surprise and then turned to look at Gibbs. "What was that about?"

"You don't understand what just happened?" Gibbs came forward to stand in front of Emily.

"If I did, I wouldn't have asked," she said dryly. "It was a horrible thing for Hotch to witness and I can't imagine how helpless he felt witnessing Beth's murder and being unable to do anything, but Hotch would be zeroing in on these details to catch her killers."

"Killer."

"What?"

"He didn't hear more than one voice, just Beth and the man."

"But he clearly kept saying 'they want to hurt her.' That means more than one man involved in Beth's murder."

"No, he was referring to Beth and the man, they're the 'they'."

"What are you talking about? Who's the' her' they were planning on hurting?"

"You, and Hotchner realizes it. The original plan was probably to kill you, but Beth's accomplice didn't want to do that. Hotchner overheard them talking about it and knew he had to stop them."

Emily sat down abruptly and stared up at Gibbs in dumbfounded amazement. "I was the original victim?"

Gibbs sat down next to her and nodded his head. "I'm just guessing here, but with Beth luring Hotchner over to her place and drugging him, she wanted him out of the way for a while. If her plan was to kill you, she wouldn't need to do that unless she was thinking of using him some way. My guess? She was going to frame him for your murder."

"But what would that get Beth?"

"Depends on what she wanted. If she just wanted to see him fry, then she just lets him take the fall for it. If she wants him owing her, she gives him a false alibi. With his fuzzy memory, Hotchner may never be sure if she was lying or not."

Emily sighed and shook her head. "Poor, Hotch. He needs to realize this isn't his fault. I don't blame him."

Gibbs pressed his lips together but finally just said, "Just give him a few minutes." He could tell Emily hadn't caught on. She didn't notice the desperation and fear in Hotchner's voice when he called out her name. Hotchner wasn't calling out to her to bring him out of the cognitive interview, he was calling out to her because he was back in Beth's apartment desperate to protect the woman he cared deeply for. His cry was of a man who would give his life for the woman whose name he was calling, a woman with whom he was in love.