Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement.
Milton was in bad shape, but he insisted on talking to the agents, despite his doctor's warnings. "So you're taking on single homicides after all, Mr. Rossi?", he croaked, managing to smile despite his condition. Even in flimsy hospital attire with cables and tubes hanging onto every possible part of his body he looked like a financial consultant archetype: pale, little hair, short-sighted eyes, small in physique.
"It's not a single homicide anymore, Mr. Milton", Rossi explained. "Have you ever heard of these people?" He gave him the names of the surgeon, the nurse and the mortician. As he spoke, the man's face grew white with terror and his eyes seemed to bulge. The machines he was connected to broke into shrill alarm sounds. The assembled agents watched in horror as Henry Milton withered right in front of their eyes.
"Oh no…", he whispered. "Oh no… My sister… What did I do?" The doctor ushered the agents out of the room, leaving them rather mystified.
"Prentiss and me, we go back to St. Francis to find out if any suspicious deaths are connected with the doctor, the nurse or the mortician. Maybe we find someone who talked to Emma Milton after Whittaker had died. Rossi, Morgan, Reid, you go to Henry Milton's apartment. See if there's anything that could shed some light on this." Hotchner rushed out of Mount Zion Hospital's exit without waiting for a reply.
Henry Milton's apartment was just as tastefully furnished as his sister's – it even had a balcony with a beautiful view of the bay – but maybe because it was tidier, it felt colder. No books were lying around, everything was well-ordered. Milton seemed to be an amateur painter. Several paintings of Scottish landscapes adorned the living-room wall. They were all perfectly adjusted. Everything was spick and span, not a grain of dust marred the room's flawlessness.
"Financial consultancy seems to have paid off well for him after all", Morgan stated, slowly opening drawers and cabinets. Garcia had informed them that Milton had been through a financially very rough time a couple of years ago. He had even been forced to sell the only tie to his parents, the inherited family home. "What did he mean when he asked what he had done?"
"Let's recount the way he approached Rossi…" Reid said, more to himself than to anyone else. "You said you felt threatened, didn't you?"
"The way he came out of the shadows was alarming – too quiet, too unforeseen", Rossi replied.
"Why did he meet you this way? Why didn't he call ahead? Why didn't he wait in the light of a streetlamp?", Reid continued.
"He was hiding", Morgan concluded. "He didn't want to be seen. A man with secrets. What kind of secrets could a financial consultant have? And where's the connection to his sister?"
Rossi's cell phone rang. JJ was on the line, informing them that Milton had woken up for one short moment before falling into coma again. He had told the nurse something very strange, a combination of numbers and letters – rf7ne4, but he hadn't been able to explain it any further.
"Oh, I know what that means!", Reid shouted excitedly.
Before he got any further, Rossi's phone rang again. This time it was Hotchner, telling them that according to the statements of several nurses Emma Milton had asked questions about a dozen patients who had died in St. Francis Hospital during the last six months.
"I think Emma Milton was on the right track, drawing wrong conclusions", Rossi told Hotchner. "But it looks like we're just one step away from a major breakthrough. You should come here as fast as possible." He broke the connection and stowed the phone away. With a wave of his hand he urged Reid to go ahead.
"R" means "rook", "n" means "knight" – it's a chess notation. Let's see if there's a chessboard lying about somewhere."
Rossi and Reid searched the living-room and the bedroom with no avail. Morgan decided to have a go at the kitchen, although it didn't seem likely – who would store a chessboard in a kitchen, especially in such a well-ordered place?
"Nothing!", he yelled unsurprised after a couple of moments of fruitless search and shut the large kitchen cupboard. "Strange codes leading to secret information…", he thought, rolling his eyes, "…what is this? A Robert Ludlum novel? Next thing we know a safe house will blow up." As he passed the small cupboard under the sink, he hesitated… No, that was a very unlikely place for a chessboard… Well, just in case... He casually opened one of the wooden doors – and found himself at gunpoint.