Chapter 55

Sheriff's substation parking lot

Cave Junction, OR

"Hey guys." Emily called them over to look at a file. "I think I have something."

"What do you have?" Hotch asked as they moved to her table and Morgan moved the laptop to get Garcia in on it.

"Scott Almovar, he's a retired plastic surgeon, and bought a hundred and sixty acres as a hunting camp. According to this he had to sell his house in San Francisco right before the crash due to a very nasty divorce, he ended up clearing five million off the deal."

"Oh, I remember that one." The Mayor said, "He had a private detective following Dela around, she was having affairs with, well, it seemed like everybody." He looked around sheepishly. "She even made a pass at me once."

"Let me guess." Rossi said, "The detective caught her coming out of both motels in town."

"And she was accused of having an affair with the owner of Taylor Sausage." The Mayor nodded.

"Garcia?" Hotch called out.

"Got it, got it," Garcia told them as she typed and typed and…stopped. "Oh my, I think I know what set him off."

"What is it?"

"Dela Almovar and her new lover Su-ji have gone into the porn business. She looks to be the hottest cougar on the net." Garcia sent them a picture of a woman with blue eyes and dark blond hair. "They're producing a serial porn show that's supposed to cater to women. Every few days they show another chunk of the romance, highlighting the physical details."

"When did they open for business?"

"About a week before the Griege's went missing."

"There's your stressor." Rossi said. "He's taking couples that remind him of his ex and her lovers and punishing them for the cheating he's seeing on the web."

"Garcia, can you shut that site down?"

"Can. Will. Am. Done." Garcia said as her fingers flew. "But their most recent update went out this morning."

"Can you stop it?" Rossi asked.

"No sir, once it's out on the net it's out on the net. And I do not see a network connection at his address."

"He's too far out." The Mayor told them. "A lot of people around here will come into town, download and upload at one of the WiFi spots and then go home to look things over at their leisure."

"Garcia?' Hotch asked her.

Her fingers flew. "He's right; he accessed his account forty minutes ago, just long enough to download."

The Sheriff and the Mayor moved to the map on the wall. "God damn it," the Sheriff muttered.

"What is it?" Morgan asked.

"Almovar's property backs up on BLM land. There are caves, old mines, hunting cabins, you name it back there. We've still got a lot of ground to cover. But at least we got a place to start."

"That explains why the damage is so spread out." Rossi said. "He hurts his victims in direct response to what he's seeing in these clips. The timing is based on the videos, not on his internal needs, at least not at the beginning. And then when they continue he ups the ante."

"Garcia." Hotch asked. "What happens in this new clip?"

"I'm looking now, give me a moment." There was a pause. "Oh. Oh. Oh you have to find them right now sir; you have to go find them right now!"

Abandoned mine

Oregon

Spencer

"You're mine."

Spencer dearly didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to go back to the heat and the desert and to lie in Elizabeth's arms for a while longer. He wanted to stay there until Morgan woke him and told him it was time to go home for good. He certainly did not want to wake down in that mine pit with an agitated Unsub ready to do who knew what to them. He really just wanted to be warm.

He wanted to be warm.

He had to wake up, of course. This time he was lying shirtless on that cold, stone floor, the sides of his neck still open and raw. Let's call the kind side of this Unsub Dr. Jekyll, for lack of another name, Spencer thought; apparently Mr. Hyde is still in command here. Now I'm shivering, which is making it hurt more, but I don't think I'm going into shock. For one thing, I do seem to be thinking clearly, and mental impairment is one of the first signs. Psychological shock from the pain, however, is another possibility.

He just wanted to be warm

"You're mine!" he heard the Unsub say, this time louder and with more agitation behind it

"Yes." Ashley responded to him. "I'm yours. I am yours. Why don't…why don't you let me come out there and…and show you."

Not bad, Spencer thought, not bad. For all that he now firmly believed that Ashley needed more education and more experience before taking on a full time role at the BAU, she showed every indication of becoming an excellent field agent. And one reason for that was her exceedingly high scores in every physical course, including hand-to-had combat. Lure him in, he thought, get him in the cell with the door open or get him to let you out and then take the bastard. Please.

Then he mustered his courage, took a big, deep breath, and rolled his head to see what was going on. For a long moment the pain blinded him to everything else. When his vision cleared he saw something new and worrying.

The Unsub had a handgun in a holster in the back of his pants.

He took a deep breath and tried to catch Ashley's eye. But she was focused on the Unsub and wasn't pay attention; ironic that, Spencer thought, the one time.

"You're lying." The Unsub told her. "You're lying!" There was a distinct clacking sound and then Ashley shrieked and hit the ground. Better the taser than the gun, Spencer thought, but then the Unsub was in the cell and reaching back and bringing the taser itself hard across her cheek. "You're lying!" he screamed as he hit her. "You're lying!" he screamed as he backhanded her across her other cheek. "You're lying!" he screamed as he came down over her and hit again and blood started going everywhere.

"Leave her alone!" Spencer found himself yelling. He had no clue where that sudden burst of strength came from, or how he managed to get to his knees, or how he was managing to drag himself up the bars. "Leave her alone! She's just a cadet! If you want to pick on someone pick on me!"

"SHUT UP! YOU JUST SHUT UP!" For a moment Spencer's heart stopped as he watched the Unsub fiddle with something, and then that something came around and pointed at him. How many times have I had a gun pointed at me, he thought, is this the one that finally does it? I am so sorry beloved; I should have conquered my fear and truly loved you.

There was a clacking noise and a bite to his chest and then the world exploded and he found himself falling. Taser, he realized. Even the bad side here is not truly a killer. Small miracles, right? He fell hard and felt his head bounce and things started going blurry around the edges. I'm sorry Ashley, I am so very sorry. I wish I could be warm.

And then the darkness swallowed him again.

Almovar's property

Cave Junction, OR

Morgan

What the hell was it with this town? Morgan paced around the back of the SUV and shook his head. They needed a warrant to get on to Almovar's property to search for Seaver and Reid, but they couldn't seem to get a judge to go along. He was about to call Will and have him ask everyone to pray harder, for lack of any better ideas.

"Hey Sheriff," a large man with graying hair in a safety orange jacket and hat came over from one of the other vehicles that had pulled up just around the corner from the property. "What's the hold up?"

"Hey Frank, we can't get a warrant." The Sheriff told him.

The large man in the orange jacket started cursing the justice system, thoroughly and fluently.

The Sherriff just chuckled. He turned to Morgan. "Meet Frank Angstrom, LAPD retired. He's the head of the regional SAR K9 unit, one of the best dog handlers in the country."

The man in the orange jacket, Frank, let off the cursing. "You look FBI to me." He said to Morgan. "Do you have scent articles for the missing agents?"

"Derek Morgan, BAU." Morgan shook hands with the man. "Yes, I do." They had raided their go bags, had found the most likely items, put them in bags so as not to pick up any other scent. Now he handed them over.

"Boots! Sally!" Frank whistled and two Labradors, one black, one yellow, came from around the cars. They obediently sat and smelled. "Okay, search!" At the command the two dogs headed out down the road, their handler right behind.

"We don't have a warrant, Frank!" The Sheriff called after him.

In response Frank pulled something from his pocket, fiddled with it, and tossed something silver back at them. "Oh look, my GPS died! I have no clue where I am! Whatever shall I do?"

"You get shot for trespassing, don't call me!" The Sheriff called back.

Morgan couldn't help but chuckle. "Oregon?" He asked the Sheriff.

"Oregon."

Several hours later Frank and his dogs made it back to the vehicles. "Nothing, not even a hint of interest. I'd bet money that those two agents have never been near any building on that place. But his vehicle is in the garage, Almovar's on foot at least."

"All right then." The Sheriff nodded. "He's got to be in the BLM land. It's a search."