Author's Note #1: Still don't own them. Hey, I'd take them if someone wanted to give them to me!
Author's Note #2: The locations I write about in this story – Miami Peak, Worman Road, Oakhurst (California), and Pilot Peak – are all real. I write about them as best as I can remember them from 20 years ago, and as best as I knew them then. Summer campers, after all, didn't generally spend a lot of time in the Oakhurst police station! And really, if they did, they didn't stay summer campers for long. If you have Google Earth, message me and I'll give you the coordinates for Gideon's house.
Previously in Criminal Minds: The Prodigal
"So who was it? Anyone I'd know?"
Hotchner exhaled and weighed the situation for a moment. "No."
He hated lying to Morgan, but really if a person wanted to split hairs it was sort of true. Jason had changed so much, you could almost argue that none of them would know him now. Somehow, though, he didn't think that argument would fly if he had to use it. The younger man shifted in his seat, then spoke.
"OK. Maybe some time you'll trust me about him?"
"It's not that I don't trust you, it's that he doesn't trust anyone. Did you find anything useful in those police reports this afternoon?"
"There were some possible links, yes. Is he turning up there?"
Hotchner slowed down as the police Jeep in front of him braked, but it was only for the flashing red light at the desolate intersection. Like the other cars, he tapped the brakes, just long enough to honor the light with intent, then sped up again.
"The first thing I found was a lot of reports of keying. All SUVs, most of it happening outside of town, and only a couple reports of keyed vehicles in town. The ones in town looked different, from the photos in the file. They tended to only be on one side, usually only half the length of the car or so, but the ones out in the country were both sides, bumper to bumper, several lines of key scratches."
"So he had time to do the keying."
"Yeah. All of the drivers were out hiking in the woods and had parked at trailheads. They came back, and found their cars gouged."
"Interesting." Hotchner thought for a moment as he watched the taillights ahead of him. "You know, all of the victims were found in their cars. Were they all SUVs?"
"Not only all SUVs, but all parked at trailheads. But none of the victims were sitting in keyed vehicles."
"There could be a link in there somewhere. You said that was the first thing."
"The victimology is interesting. They're all DINKy men, all younger middle-aged, physically fit, alone out in the woods as far as we can tell, and there's never anyone else missing from their lives. None of them lived here in the area, they were all tourists, but they were from all over the country. So this guy takes on men he presumably doesn't know, he doesn't have a gun to the wife's head so that's not how he's controlling them, and somehow they wind up sitting in the front seat of their SUVs with bullet holes in their chests. Some are shot in the vehicles, some outside. So far, the cops have found the actual kill site for each one, and it's always within only a few feet of the vehicle."
"Double-income no-kids men, out for a hike? That's a pretty low-risk population in a low-risk place."
"Exactly my point. I think the keyings are related to the killings."
As Hotchner considered the possible link between the vandalism and the murders, he saw a white rail fence along the right-hand side of the road, and realized he was driving past the driveway he'd come down not an hour before. Maybe half a mile ahead, almost out of sight around the gentle curve of the road, the first of the police Jeeps had a left turn signal on.
As he turned off the main road where the other vehicles had gone, he saw that the police chief had stopped his Jeep and gotten out. Hotchner rolled down the window as the chief stepped over.
"How much off-road driving have you boys done?"
"Actually, not much. This a bad road?"
"Yeah, if you ain't done washboard roads and storm potholes, you're gonna tear the transmission right out of that Suburban driving over something in the dark, and then where would you be? Why don't you leave it here and come along in the Jeep?"
Hotchner could see headlights and taillights dipping up and down and side to side as the other vehicles climbed the sloping road. "Sounds like a good idea to me. Morgan, you want to make sure there's nothing on your side that we shouldn't leave behind?" He pulled the big vehicle as far off the road as he could and shut it off. With the engine and the headlights off, and only the headlights from the Jeep's headlights visible, he realized just how quiet and dark it was. As Morgan rounded the back of the SUV, Hotchner looked up at the sky to see the Milky Way above them as he'd rarely seen it before. "Wow."
"That's always the first thing you city boys say, is 'Wow'." Guess you don't get to see real dark much back home." The chief chuckled as his two charges gazed at the sky.
"Hey, what is that?" Morgan pointed at the sky above him, and the chief squinted up. A faint light was moving at a constant pace across the sky, and he watched it for a second. "Satellite."
"No way. You're kidding me, right? This is some sort of hazing thing or something, like if you wave your spread fingers in front of your eyes real fast while staring at the sun, you can see the satellites?"
"It's a satellite. Doesn't blink, so it's not an airplane, plus it's too high. Moving too slow to be a meteor, and besides a meteor woulda burned up in the atmosphere by now. Not a comet 'cause it's moving too fast. Nothing left but satellite. Well, or a UFO, but that's not your office, right?"
Hotchner and Morgan both laughed as they followed Chief Phillips to his Jeep.
"So, Chief, where exactly are we, and where are we headed?"
"Call me John. We're about a mile south of the border between Madera and Mariposa counties, for starters. This little peak here is Miami Peak, it's supposed to be an old volcanic cone. There's a fire look-out station up on top, and the road goes all the way up but there's a barrier about half-way to keep tourists from parking at the look-out. The victim's SUV is at the barrier."
"Wait a minute, the county line? Where does your jurisdiction end?" Hotchner asked.
"At the county line, which is where Oakhurst's jurisdiction ends. So yes, to answer your next question, there could be more victims over in Mariposa county. Haven't talked to the cops over there yet, though."
"Morgan, you need to do that tomorrow. John, can you set him up with the right people?"
"Sure can. Don't want to think about what that might mean, though. We've got the 5 cases over here already, we don't need to add anyone else's to the total."
Hotchner grabbed for the sissy bar above the window as the Jeep lurched over a deep rut. He decided not to distract Phillips from watching the uneven road, and soon they were pulling up behind a row of vehicles, with a desolate-looking SUV on the other side of the road from them.
The arc lights that had been set up facing the sage-green Land Rover threw wobbling shadows as a figure turned away from the body in the driver's seat of the SUV. As Phillips and his passengers got out of the Jeep, the figure came over to meet them.
"Chief, thanks for coming out. This looks like the same as all the other guys, but then I'm not one of those fancy CSI guys, you know."
"I know, Doc. These are Agent Hotchner and Agent Morgan with the FBI, they've agreed to take a look at what we've got here. Agents, this's Doc Waters, he's the local GP and part-time coroner."
Everyone shook hands, and Hotchner and Morgan followed Waters and Phillips to the Land Rover.
"Far as I can tell, he was shot while sitting in the driver's seat. Shot in the chest, but if it's the same ammo as all the others that was enough to kill him instantly. This guy likes Black Talon bullets, you remember those?"
Hotchner shifted uncomfortably, and the unexpended round in his breast pocket tapped against his chest. "Yeah, I remember those. Vicious rounds."
"You got that right. Those things sort of unzip along the perforations when they hit a target, and just go ripping through anything in front of them. So far none of our victims have really had much of a heart left, just sort of a crater." The coroner stepped back from beside the victim. "Far as I can tell, John, from rigor and lividity he coulda been done anytime this morning."
"I thought this was from this afternoon," said Hotchner.
"Well, our witness found him late this afternoon," answered Phillips. "Took him a while to quit throwing up enough to phone us, and then he said someone had just been killed up here. You're sure about the timing, Doc?" At Waters' nod, Phillips led the group over to the witness, a forest ranger who still looked a little green.
Hotchner hung back, standing beside Morgan as he watched Phillips conduct the initial discussion. Not an interview, yet, but certainly the ranger would be talked to again if there was any hint that he might be involved.
Once the body was put into the back of the high-axled van and started on its bumpy route back down the hill, the typical tasks of an investigation moved into full gear Hotchner watched as he mulled over everything he'd heard. After shaking the ranger's hand, Phillips came back over to his Jeep.
"Look, my guys do fine without me standing over them, and I don't think we'll really get anything from being up here looking at a bloodied Land Rover. You want a ride back down the hill?"
Both the agents agreed, and only a few minutes later they were headed back down the road. The inside of the car was quiet for the first few hundred feet.
"Ah, horsepuckies!" At this exclamation, Morgan looked over at Phillips from the passenger seat. "Sorry, but my wife's been on me to clean up my language. We've got a new baby, and all the books say they start picking up language even before they can do anything but scream. You guys got kids?" At Morgan's headshake, Phillips looked in the rearview mirror at Hotchner.
"Yeah, Jake. He's five now. How old is yours?"
"Annie just turned two months old yesterday."
"That's a great age. Just right for being cute, and not old enough to get in trouble." The men shared a smile, and then the chief sobered up again.
"Anyway, this has gotta be another one. You saw the wedding ring? And the Land Rover, and he's the right age."
"He does fit the victim profile. We'll take a closer look at him tomorrow morning. I'd do it tonight, but it's midnight for our computer expert, and even she takes the nights off," Hotchner said.
They discussed how the work would be handled the next day, and before Hotchner expected it they had reached the bottom of the winding road and drawn up next to the Bureau's Suburban. Morgan got out, but Phillips glanced at Hotchner again in the rearview, and something in the chief's eyes made him stay where he was.
"Look, this guy you know across the way. I heard what you weren't saying up on the hill, and since our newest victim got hit this morning, your friend is back in the picture. I don't know who he is, or why you were protecting him today, but we need to talk to him, and now."
"I don't like it, and he certainly won't."
"Quite frankly, I don't like having 5 – no, 6 dead bodies now, scattered around my territory. And whether you or your friend like it or not, you have to admit he's a pretty good fit for the profile you gave us earlier. The timing fits, the first victim showed up after he did, and I've seen where they fall on the map. They're all close in to your guy."
"I'm not sure we can get him to help," Hotchner said unhappily.
Phillips swiveled around to look at him directly. "I don't care if he helps or not, as long as he answers questions honestly. If he's not our guy, fine, he can fade back into the woodwork again, but I need to find out if he's our guy. This is my county, and it's my responsibility long after you leave. Clear?"
"Crystal." Hotchner looked out the window, and saw that Morgan was leaning impatiently against the driver's side of the Suburban, his arms crossed on his chest. "You need to know, he's ex-Bureau. In fact, we worked together for several years. I'd trust him with my life."
"I think you already did that this afternoon. Does Morgan know who this guy is?"
"He worked with my friend, yeah, but he doesn't know who the guy in the house is, no. My friend didn't want anyone to know he was still…" He trailed off, feeling that he had betrayed Gideon by saying that much.
"Alive?" At Hotchner's slow nod, Phillips shook his head. "So he's wound pretty tight, then. Well, we'll go talk to him now. No, don't worry; I don't know why I'm going along with your mystery man's ideas, but Morgan doesn't need to know. No reason why you should both lose sleep. Send him back to town, you and I'll go across the way and front up your friend, and we'll go from there."
Hotchner thought it over, but couldn't see any way out of the impending disaster. He reached for the door handle, again feeling the weight of the bullet in his pocket, as he spoke.
"Fine, but let me explain to Morgan."
He climbed into the front seat of the Jeep, having suggested to Morgan that since the younger man would be juggling talking to Garcia the next day about the victims with combing through police reports in Mariposa county it would be a good idea to have a decent night's sleep. Phillips started the Jeep up and drove the short distance to the shoulder of the highway, where he pulled to a stop and turned to look at Hotchner.
"I don't know anything about this guy's other life, and I don't know what sort of working relationship you two had. But I'll be doing this interview, as a courtesy to both of you we're talking at his place rather than the station, and once you get us in the door I want you to keep out of it. Got that?" Phillips started the Jeep up again. The short ride along the highway and up the driveway passed in silence.
A light flicked on inside the house as Phillips drew the Jeep up, and Hotchner sighed. This could go wrong in so many different ways. He walked up the steps to the front porch, though, and knocked on the door.
"Hey, old friend. We need to talk."