Here's the new chapter!
You probably don't care, but you want to know the most difficult part of writing this chapter? I was watching Diary of a Mad Black Woman whilst writing and guess whose in it... Shemar Moore or as we know him Derrik Morgan... I couldn't stop laughing while I was writing this which was hard because there's a lot of sad stuff in this chapter.
Anyways, enough about me, onto the show!
Reid knew he looked pained as he tried to force a smile for the other man. He hated the idea of lying to him. Not because Hotch was his boss and superior and he had great respect for him, but because he trusted the older man and wanted to believe it was a mutual trust. If he lied to him, then it would shatter, but he could not tell him the truth. At least not now. Not yet. "It's nothing, Hotch."
The plane ride was dedicated to the mental preparation for their case. They all were quickly re-briefed on the details and went to reading the files and autopsy reports. It was a tedious task, but it was necessary and, for such a long flight, something to do. However, to their fearless leader, it was a more tedious task than usual. His mind was miles back at Quantico, where he and Reid had sat together and he learned that his subordinate was going through something horrifying enough to make him lie to Hotch's face.
Hotch chewed on his lower lip, surprisingly it looked more like he was concentrating on the autopsy report of a Mark Delrouse instead of wondering who was on the other end of Reid's cell phone.
Was it concern or jealousy that tore Aaron Hotchner away from work? He himself didn't even know.
"Hotch?" He looked up at Reid as the boy stood above him, a file in his hand. His eyes shined so expressively that Hotch could see the hidden apology trying to battle to the vocal section of the genius's brain. However, no matter how bad Reid felt about lying to Hotch, they both had a sense that the apology would have to wait until later. "Are you finished with that report? I've read all the others-."
"Here," Hotch offered, a little smile on his lips. He wanted Reid to know that there were no hard feelings. Reid took the file and handed him his own and offered a small smile in return.
"Hey, G-Man, what's up with your arm?" Hotch had been too busy looking up into Reid's brown eyes to see the cuff of his sleeve pulling back to reveal discoloration on his wrist. A deep bruise from someone grabbing his wrists, or some other form of restraints. They were deep enough in color for Morgan to have noticed from the other side of the table Hotch and him were sitting at.
Reid flushed and pulled back his arm, pushing his sleeves down. "I don't know." He said tersely and made his way back to his seat, burying his face into the file to signal he did not want further conversation.
Unfortunately, the seed had been planted. Hotch was not going to let this matter go away. Especially, not after that morning.
"Welcome, welcome!" The man that greeted them off the plane was heavy set, but tall, almost six foot. He was not fat, but not fit either. A small town sheriff sorta look to him. His dark hair was graying, his face worn. He smiled warmly as the agents stepped out of the jet, dressed for the Alaskan climate. "Welcome to Mountain Village, AK. I'm Officer Clark David, I'm the one who brought you all to the middle of no where."
"It's a pleasure." Hotch greeted, smiling, shaking the man's hand. "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is-." He introduced everyone and as always they shook hands except Reid who offered his small wave. "We're ready to get to work."
"I'd like that, too, but hospitality dictates that you settle in first. We don't have much in the way of hotels, but we got you a place, don't you worry." He promised, leading the way towards snow chained, black SUVs parked right on the terminal. They followed and allowed themselves to be driven down through the town of one police station, a post office, a general store, a clothing depot, two restaurants, and one bar. They drove out of town to a cluster of six large cabins, three of which had smoke already pouring out of the chimneys.
"Welcome." The officer said jovially as he stepped out and waited for the agents to surround him. "You all have Cabins One, Three, and Five warmed and waiting for you all. Cabin Two and Four are in need of some maintenance, hence the odd numbering," he explained as he handed Hotch six keys to the Cabins. "I'll let you settle in and we'll head for the station?"
"Thank you." Hotch nodded offering his polite smile. Officer David tipped his hat and went back to one of the other officers that had driven with them. Hotch turned to his team. "Alright, Garcia and Morgan you can have Cabin One. Behave like adults." He said, handing Morgan the keys as Garcia thought, define adults. Hotch suppressed a groan as he realized his mistake, seeing it in the techie's mischievous smile.
"Prentiss and Emily, you have Cabin Three," he handed them each a key. Poor Rossi, he thought commenting how well it worked out that the senior agent had gotten caught up back at Quantico for "disorderly conduct." Fraternization rules were created because of him and ignored by him.
"That leaves you and me Reid." Hotch nodded, handing the agent his key and heading for their Cabin. Reid followed immediately, described later behind closed doors by Morgan to Garcia as, "like a puppy-dog."
As Reid had guessed, to his horror, Hotch had set this up immediately after finding out they were going to have multiple cabins. The young agent had a strong feeling that Hotch was going to have a sit down with him about the phone call and his abused wrists.
Reid finished unpacking to its extent. He couldn't help glancing at Hotch as the older man did the same. They soon finished setting into their home for the next couple of days and looked around, becoming acquainted with it. The bedroom was the largest room with a deck that led to the back of the Cabin that looked over a lake behind the lodging site. The water was crystal clear and sparkled in the afternoon light and reflected the forest on the other side of it. The cabin itself was like the frontier log cabin on the outside, but well furnished on the inside.
A large stone fireplace was blazing a bright fire, the heat circulating around the Cabin's rooms. The furniture was rustic looking, made of smoothed white oak with dark cushions. There was a hand woven carpet before the fireplace and in the middle of the kitchen. The kitchen was newly renovated, it seemed. Stainless steel appliances and sanded oak cabinets with silver handles held dishes and cookware. A breakfast island connecting with the counter separated the kitchen with the living area. French doors opened to the only bedroom with one king-sized bed. The bedroom furnished just like the living room with burgundy sheets. It gave a cozy, cottage-home feel.
Reid wished in his heart he could enjoy the sweet place with Hotch near by. However, his head was filled with, not only their case, but, for once, his own private life. He felt like a bear ensnared in a trap trying to figure a way to freedom when he didn't have opposable thumbs. His head hurt as he tried to think about the case and his relationship problems at once. He knew it was impossible, but he needed to figure them both out as soon as possible.
"Reid?" The sweet, deep voice that broke through his numbing headache was the most wonderful sound he had heard in so long. Hotch's voice and presence always made him feel better even during the darkest of times. Right now he needed more than just the idea of being close to him, but it would have to do… at least until they returned to Virginia. He took a deep breath to hide his inner conflict and turned to see Hotch standing right behind him. "Let's head out."
Reid nodded in agreement, following Hotch out of their Cabin. He felt strangely content and safe being right behind Hotch. He knew he would follow Hotch anywhere he was asked to.
They entered the station, a small little place. It was explained to have been the post office centuries ago and the smaller building beside it had been the police station, but as the population grew and more law enforcement was needed the switch had been made a century prior. The building was small, but not nearly as small as the cube of a post office.
The walls were painted a warm cream color. Gray dividers separated a small waiting area, complete with a receptionist. Beyond the waiting area was a larger cluster of desks and officers. Three doors, one near the dividers, was for the break room, furnished with a wall of counter and a refrigerator. Cabinets above the refrigerator held snacks and coffee. Two others were the chief's, Clark David's, office and a conference room.
"Hey Clark, these the agents?" The receptionist, sitting at her neat and glossy wooden desk, asked as the team walked in. She was an older woman, around her fifties, maybe, and had a kind smile.
"Yea, Deb, they've come to lend a hand, anymore of your coffee cookies left?" He asked as they walked by.
She laughed and nodded. "Yes, I made enough for twice this station. Make sure you give that skinny boy most of them. He looks starved." She said nodding towards Reid. The attention made him blush bright red and he bent his face down as the walked into the bustling station. People were on phones and working on, what looked like, the case the BAU was sent for.
"You all will have the conference room, is that all right? Jake's getting you set up now." Clark explained as he led the way to the back of the room. He opened the door to a room with a round table, two white boards, chairs, and case boxes and files. A made with short dark hair, bright green eyes and solemn expression was putting down the last box.
"Hey Jake, FBI's here."
The man looked up and gave a nod. "Hope they catch this asshole." He said, his voice level. He made his way out of the room and towards his desk nearby.
Clark made a soft tsk-ing noise and shook his head. "He looks familiar," Hotch commented, his eyes still on Jake's head.
"Well, you might have seen his picture in the files we faxed you." Clark explained, bring the teams attention back to him. "He's the second victim's boyfriend. They were supposed to leave for Canada today for their wedding this weekend." He finished, looking sympathetically towards his officer.
"Oh, well we're sorry to hear that." Hotch said, meaning it. He knew what it was like to loose a spouse. A fiancée was close enough in his book.
"Yes, he insisted on continuing with work. What a trooper." Clark sighed, silencing himself for a few seconds. He clapped and looked up. "Well, I'll leave you to your work, anything you want, just ask. You have a full cooperation."
"Thank you. We'd like to have a word with some of the recent victim's families. And Jake if he's up for it." The officer nodded, listening closely. Hotch turned to Morgan, "You and Prentiss, I want you two to go have a word with Dennis Jones's boyfriend." He turned to JJ and Clark. "Do you two think you can speak with Mark Delrouse's family?" They gave a nod.
"I'll start on the geographical profile," Reid piped in, moving towards one of the white boards, away from the group. Hotch nodded and watched his team leave. He then took it upon himself the talk with Jake.
"Excuse me?"
The officer sat, his head in his hands, pen scribbling a continuous circle on the report he had been looking at. It had been drawn for a while, darkened considerably. He stopped and looked up at the FBI agent. "Can I help you, sir?"
Hotch looked down and saw the dark circles under the officer's youthful eyes. There was a hardness in the man's eyes that Hotch recognized well. The defense of sleepless, saddening nights. Of bad dreams and crushing pain. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Hotch asked, sitting down in the chair beside Jake's desk.
"Sure." He said with a small shrug, his voice sounding as physically and emotionally exhausted as the man looked. "Is this about Kyle?"
Kyle Rossen, the second man found, had been twenty-eight. A bright young man returning all the way from George Washington University in Washington DC after obtaining his doctorate in English a couple of years prior. He was a professor of English at the University of Alaska and had been on his teaching break when he was murdered. He had been tall and lean and one of the brunette victim's. "Yes, it is. Can you tell me about his daily routine?"
Jake looked up at Hotch and took a deep breath, controlling his raging emotions. "He was a very devoted man. Devoted teacher, devoted lover…. He loved his job and woke up early in the morning to get ready for the day as thoroughly as possible. He stayed in his office late and worked himself to the bone for his students. He spent his free time with me or shopping or reading. He was devoted."
Hotch nodded and glanced at Reid as the agent unfolded a map of Alaska and set to work on pinning the crime scenes on it. Hotch could understand the young officer's respect for devotion. "How often did you get to see him?"
"Every weekend. I'd go see him if I could get away, but normally he drove up here to see me." Jake explained, his eyes beginning to shine. "There were weekends neither of us could get away from work, very few, but there were still some weekends. He came to see me every break the school got. Whenever we could."
"Did he like the outdoors?" Hotch asked, seeing the officer was about to lose it. Tears seemed to try and break through his eyes. "Was there any reason for him to be outdoors?"
Jake laughed a little at the question. "Besides our hot tub, plane, and our boat, no. He hated camping. He was from New York and he moved here after a visit with his sister. He never got into the outdoors part of being an Alaskan." He looked down and seemed to emit an aura that said he wanted to stop the questions, but Hotch, as sympathetic as he was to him, couldn't do that.
"I know this is hard, but do you think he could have been having an affair?"
"No!" Jake said looking horrified. "He was devoted to me. He would never do something like that. I know a lot of men can be disloyal, but he was not one of them."
"Okay, thank you." Hotch tried to remember his other question, but Reid appeared at his shoulder hesitant, but looking eager. "Yes?"
"I found something."
They walked into their make shift office and Hotch caught the perfect circle of pins on the map and wondered why Reid had left his pins like that. Then he recognized the area the circle as the location of the crime scenes. Reid took his place at the map and his lips began to quiver, his hands dancing in the air as he excitedly explained, "Each body was dumped in accordance to a perfect circle. All except one."
"One?" Hotch echoed, seeing that there were only six pins in the map instead of seven.
Reid nodded eagerly. "Yes, Justin Kingsleigh," He continued, displaying another pin he had been holding in his hand. He pricked it into the map, dead center of the circle. "The very first victim."
Justin Kingsleigh was indeed the first victim, and had had, before having his head ripped from his body, beautiful golden blonde hair. He had been the smallest framed of all the victim's, having suffered from malnutrition as a child and an abusive relationship with his parents. He had been the most mutilated of all the victims, barely anything left to identify him.
Hotch examined the pins. "It almost seems like-."
"The killer wants to emphasize the first killing. Like he takes some sort of pride in it." Reid finished, his eyes dancing with excitement. Hotch was happy to see him so happy once again. "I had read the files and realized they were all in the same forest, but wondered, not why the same one, but why this specific forest. It's more populated than the others around here and seemed a risky pick. What was left of the bodies was left out in the open.
At first I thought it was because he wanted it to seem like the murder's had been animal attacks, but after seeing this," he pointed to the map, "I see that he's bragging about it. Well not bragging, but he wants everyone to see it. There's a message behind it."
Hotch looked at the map and looked down into one of the files. He looked back at the map and then at Reid, seeing the refreshing determined light in his bright brown eyes. "Good job, Reid. I think we can start working on the profile now."
JJ and Clark walked into the Rouser, one of the restaurants on main street, just across from the Police station. It was deserted at that time of day, but a slim girl in a black dress waited at the hostess stand. "Hello, how may I help you today Clark?" She asked, smiling brightly at them. She was in her twenties, had long black hair and dark blue eyes.
"We're looking for Todd. Is he working today?" Clark asked, glancing around the empty, café style place.
"Yup, in his office." She pointed to the door on the other end of the place. Clark led JJ towards it and knocked. A gleaming gold sign shined on the door saying, Manager.
After Clark knocked, a subdued, "It's open," came in reply. Clark opened the door and let JJ in and let it fall shut. "Hey, Clark." The man was dressed in black trousers, black shoes and a black polo. He looked aged from the passed few days. He looked utterly depressed and JJ felt a twinge of pity for him.
"Hey, Todd." Clark greeted gently. "This is JJ, she's with the FBI and we were wondering if you were up for a few questions."
The man took a deep breath and nodded. "I think I can do that much." JJ looked around the office as the men exchanged niceties. It was neat with mahogany shelving on the right wall, a matching desk and chair set. One chair was before the organized desk, the other on the left side, next to a couch. The upholstery was burgundy leather. The man took his desk chair. On the desk was a Mac, a phone, the man's cell phone, and a framed 8x10 picture of him and the victim. Todd had his arms wrapped around Mark's waist while Mark kissed Todd on the cheek. JJ recognized it as one of the file pictures.
"You've done well with the place." Clark commented. It was not Todd's restaurant, but Mark's. Or at least, it had been. Now it was Todd's by inheritance.
"Thanks." He said smiling weakly.
JJ offered her motherly smile. "Are you sure you're up for questions?"
"Yes, anything to help catch Mark's killer." He said, his voice straining with the last two words.
"Did Mark have a sudden change from his daily routine? Something unusual? Something that seemed out of place for him?" JJ asked, sitting down in the chair opposite the other man.
Todd shook his head. "No," he said. "Nothing strange, really. The night before he disappeared he had gone out with some friends. Sorta like his bachelor party." He looked down at the picture sheepishly, touching the frame. "We were going to have a commitment ceremony, well, tomorrow, actually. Here and then we were going to go on a, sort of, honeymoon after to Hawaii."
"I'm very sorry." JJ offered. Todd nodded tersely and sighed. "Who was at this party?" Todd told her the names of three other men and two girls. "Where?" He named the bar just down the street.
"I feel so stupid." Todd confessed, bring his face into his hands. "We had argued before he went to his party. It was about something so ridiculous. He wanted to move to Washington after we were made official. I wasn't up for it, but he was insistent. We fought about it and he left saying I love you. He was being sarcastic about it, but now I wish I'd at least said a sarcastic 'I love you too' back at him. Now he's dead." He shook as he suppressed a sob.
JJ stood up and patted the man's shoulder as he cried. Clark sat there unsure of how to react. He decided to let JJ handle the situation and stayed in his seat on the couch. "I'm sorry." Todd gasped after a few minutes. "I'm just a complete and utter mess right."
JJ offered he usual smile and whispered gently, "It's completely understandable." She whispered, rubbing Todd's back. He thanked her and she thanked him for answering what he could. She left her card saying, "If you can think of anything more, just give us a call."
Morgan steered into the drive to a large estate set back into the woods. He parked their SUV in the drive beside two other's before a large mansion. He looked at Prentiss who nodded. They were thinking the same thing. They both recalled what JJ had said about being well off, wealth wise.
They got out and walked up to the door, and were met by a large tiger cat with unusual markings. He meowed softly and wrapped around Morgan's leg as he knocked. The door opened to a short, young, twenty-something man, thin with long black and red hair pulled back. He was sloppily dress in a sweatshirt and shorts, both black. He looked Japanese, which took Prentiss and Morgan by surprise. "Mr. Jones?"
He smiled sadly and nodded. "Technically, in here I'm still Mr. Hisei, but in Japan, Canada, and Vermont I'm Mr. Jones." He offered. He bent down and picked up the cat, cradling him in his arms. "How may I help you?"
"I'm agent Prentiss, this is Agent Morgan, we're with the FBI." She said, pulling out her badge as Morgan pulled out his. "We'd like to ask you about Dennis's murder."
The man stood, his form going rigid. His lip quivered and he burst into tears, hugging the cat tightly, burying his face into his fur. Morgan glanced at Prentiss, both knowing they had found the victim's husband. He composed himself enough to step back and let them inside. "Come in, come in. I'll answer whatever I can."
"Alright, JJ," Hotch said as he watched Reid move around the room, looking from file to file, gathering information in his memory bank to form a profile. It was amusing. "Okay, when you finish, come straight back here. Reid and I are starting with it now. What you gather could change some details."
He said goodbye and shut his phone looking up at Reid, who had stopped his information seeking to look up at him. "What's JJ doing?" He asked, sliding into a chair finally, looking exhausted.
"She found out that Mark Delrouse had gone out with friends the night he disappeared. She's gone to ask some of them questions." Hotch informed leaning back and looking at his agent thoughtfully. "So what do you have?"
Reid's eyes lit up once again, sending a delighted smile in Hotch's eyes. It was good to see he wasn't as scared or depressed as he'd been back at Quantico. "Well, our unsubs male, tall, and heavier set than his victim's, judging by the unknown footprints found a some of the crime scenes. Judging by the time of death, or what we could get from the remains, he kills them at night, between ten and midnight. There's no signs of sexual assault, but there wasn't enough left to tell for sure. He's arrogant about what he's done, and has a message to go along with his kills. Each of the victims was reported missing after they had gone out at night for some event or on the weekends, suggesting he works during the day." Reid sat back and took a deep breath and looked at Hotch, his brown eyes widening, like a puppy that believes he performed a trick perfectly.
"Good job, Reid." Hotch offered, making a small smile appear sheepishly on Reid's face. "That's very good so far. We'll just need what the other's get to make it official." Reid nodded and slouched in his chair, closing his eyes. He really did look exhausted. "You wanna head to the Cabin? I can tell them the profile if you want."
Reid blinked up at him for a moment, debating whether or not he wanted to. He knew he was about to fall asleep, but he was hesitant to be away from Hotch. He finally shook his head. "I'll wait until your finished." He said, standing up. "But I think I'll get some coffee. Want some?"
"That sounds good, thanks." Hotch said, watching Reid carefully as he walked around the table and to the door. "Reid, hold on."
Reid froze mid-step and lowered his leg, feeling apprehension take over. It was what he had feared. He knew Hotch wanted to talk about what happened in Virginia and what happened on the plane, but he didn't expect it to be so soon. Or during their working hours. "Yes, Hotch?"
"You've done good work today. Don't push yourself too hard."
Reid felt his heart skip a beat and his cheeks heat up. It was rare to get something like that from Hotch. He nodded, "Thanks Hotch." He squeaked and hurried from the room.
Hotch leaned back, smiling to himself. He knew he had taken the genius off guard, if only briefly. He also knew that Reid had been expecting him to mention the phone call and/or his bruised wrists. No, Hotch decided that was a matter that had to wait for later. When he and the younger man were alone in their Cabin.
Chapter 2- End
TBC
Well, now we're getting into the Crime part of this fic.
Told you it was hard laughing and writing sad!
ANYHOW, nothing new on Akira's condition, but this fic will be updated ASAP.
Arivadurchi!
