Chapter 3
Tracking
"There is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear." - Ben Jonson
Reid and Rossi were standing in Judge Farron's chambers.
"There would be no advantage in changing the trial date." said Spencer at Farron's suggestion. "Agent Hotchner only has air to last until Monday evening. If Scarson isn't released on Monday, Agent Hotchner will be killed."
"Anything done to fix the outcome of the trial will either be perjury on your part, or actively negotiating with terrorists on mine, neither of which scenario's am I willing to contemplate. I am very sorry for your predicament, Dr Reid, but nothing has changed." Farron pressed his lips together in a gesture of annoyance. "Can you imagine what would happen to our justice system if we gave way this once? It would be the end of our fair judicial order that is admired the world over. It cannot be done."
Rossi noticed Reid's hands were clenched. "Thank you for seeing us, Your Honour." he said, and bowed his head slightly. He led Reid outside.
"Reid, he is right. It amounts to negotiating with terrorists." Spence was about to say something, when Rossi held up his hand. "We have forty eight hours to find him, Reid. Call the team together. We need all our resources on this one."
-0-0-0-
"We need Scarson's known associates, Garcia." said Rossi. "Whoever is doing this is someone to whom Scarson is important."
Garcia leaned sideways so Rossi could see the computer. "Six known associates. I'll get their last known addresses." Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "One deceased, two serving time. Leaves three." She tore a sheet off the printer and handed it to Rossi. "Sir, I really want to help with this."
"You are helping, Garcia." he answered. "I want you to dig into these known associates, find out everything you can on them, in case these three don't pan out."
She nodded and turned back to her screens. It always felt personal when it was one of their own.
Rossi was back in the conference room. He gave Reid and Morgan a name each.
"Prentiss, go with Reid, JJ with Morgan. Check them out, and meet back here."
They hurried out of the bullpen on their assignments.
-0-0-0-
Aaron was trying not to freak out in his confined incarceration. He went over in his mind the UnSubs he could remember, trying to work out who and why, but he came up with nothing. Why this? He would be laying thinking and fear would engulf him again, and his body would shake and his breathing become laboured. He had no idea how long he had been down here. Although he had been left a watch on his wrist, he couldn't see it. He was very thirsty. He licked his dry lips, but it made no difference. His first priority was not to panic, although he was in a permanent state of dread. He ran his fingers over the sides and base of the box as far as he could reach to see if he could find any loose boards, but again, nothing. He clenched his fists and punched at the walls in frustration and fear.
"No! No no oh god! Please, help me!" he cried. Aaron's frantic hammering slowed as he started to cry and he rested his face on his arms to protect his skin from the rough wood. He sobbed into his hands. "Please...help me..."
-0-0-0-
Spencer and Emily knocked on the door of the trailer. A grey faced woman in her thirties with black druggy rings around her eyes eventually came to the door. Emily took the call.
"Good morning." she said, showing her iD. "I am Emily Prentiss, and this is Dr Reid. We are with the FBI, and we are trying to trace Brian Bamber. This is his last known address. Are you able to tell us where he is?"
"You're trying to trace him? You and me both. He cleared off and left me with his kid. If I knew where the hell he was, I'd go there and kill the bastard."
"How long ago did he leave, Miss...er..." Reid said.
"Coming up to a year." the woman said. "Ten months."
"Do you ever remember him mentioning the name Josh Scarson?" asked Emily.
"That murdering SOB? I thought you had him? They used to be close, Josh used to come here sometimes for poker. But not in the last six months before Brian cleared off." She started to close the door.
"Please can we have your name?"
"No." and the door was closed.
Reid and Prentiss sat in the car. "It's not likely to be him. Not if he left the local area fourteen months ago."
"You're probably right, Reid." Emily said, starting the car. "Let's get back and see what the others have found out"
-0-0-0-
Morgan and JJ weren't having any more success. Their address took them to a run down apartment block on the edge of town. With the lift broken, they had to climb the stairs to the eighth floor, avoiding bags of rubbish, and miscellaneous dirty nappies strewn across the landings. Most of the lights were out.
JJ tried not to say anything, but when she trod on a dirty nappy, she couldn't help it.
"Oh this is so disgusting!" she shrieked.
"One more floor, JJ!" Morgan put his hand out and helped her step over the mess.
There was no door on the apartment for them to knock on. Morgan stepped inside.
"There's no-one here." he said. "and there hasn't been for a long time."
They came out of the apartment and knocked on the next door. The woman who answered the door was waiting for a 'customer' and was surprised when she spotted JJ.
"Oh." she said, obvious disappointment in her voice when Morgan introduced himself. "Pity. They got the Feds busting hookers now?"
"We are looking for the man who used to live next door." said JJ. "Tony O'Halloran."
"Oh the Irishmanh. He's long gone. He moved out about a week before they kicked his door in." She closed her eyes in an effort to remember. "Gotta be a year, at least."
Morgan said, "Thank you Miss." and they turned to leave.
"Hey gorgeous, ain't ya gonna cuff me and haul my ass downtown?"
"You should be so lucky." JJ murmured. Morgan laughed.
-0-0-0-
Rossi struck out too. The guy he was following up had been clean for coming up to eighteen months, and was married with a baby son. His home was clean and neat, and his wife was plain, but obviously not a user or a hooker. The family had no association with the old life. Johnny Masefield had turned his life around. Rossi thought he should be proud of the achievement. It wasn't easy.
He headed back to the BAU. The sun was going down. Aaron had been missing for twenty two hours. He hoped the others had come up with something.
-0-0-0
Aaron hadn't moved for a while now. His mouth was dry, and the screaming hadn't helped. He had no water, and didn't understand how he was still getting air, although the air he had was stale and thin. He drew as much into his lungs as he could, but there was not enough oxygen. His head was hurting from the bashing he had been given, and he felt dizzy, through dehydration. He tried to move, but he could only stay prone, unable to lift his head more than a few inches. His feet touched the bottom of the box, and his hair brushed the top. He ad about an inch either side of his shoulders. He didn't know if his eyes were open or closed. He just lay still in blood and body fluids, in what was to become his coffin, and whimpered.
Come for me Spencey, where are you? Help me, oh god, please, ...oh help me!...
He felt around for the knife, and felt the blade with his thumb. He stuck the point into the palm of his hand and felt the blood. It was a good feeling. He pushed his other hand under his body and rested the blade on his wrist. He wished he could see what he was doing as he pushed the point into the flesh of his right wrist.
No. It wasn't time yet. He let the knife fall from his fingers. He wouldn't do this. Even though the UnSub, whoever it was, couldn't see him, in Aaron's mind he would be giving him satisfaction. Aaron still had enough pride left.
Then he could hear speaking. Suddenly there were people in his tiny space. He pressed his hands to his ears.
"Go away!" he croaked, his throat sore and dry, his tongue sticky in his mouth. "Please, leave me alone...let me die in peace!"
The voices laughed at his pathetic efforts. They laughed at his weak and useless whimpering. They prodded and poked at his scraped and splintered skin, shrieked with excitement as he tried to pull away from them.
"Go! Don't touch me!" a broken rasping cry as he rocked himself from side to side. "Please, please, let me die in peace!"
Aaron pressed himself against one wall, as far from the voices as he could get, and he clutched at his hair and pulled. He begged the voices.
"Please...just help me..."