Chapter 4

There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. ~George Carlin, Brain Droppings, 1997

"So there was no man around you considered suspicious?" Hotch asked. They had reached the end of the interview and he couldn't say he was happy with the outcome. Erin Strauss knew nothing, or told them nothing, that could help them to find the killer. The workers she had hired to renovate her ranch house were people she didn't know, and as far as she could tell none of them had behaved suspiciously.

"You have to ask the owner of the firm. He hired the men."

Though he didn't show it, Hotch was far from satisfied with the conversation with Erin Strauss. It seemed the woman was hard to handle. Her answers were sharp and her displayed lack of interest annoyed him. He also couldn't picture her and Gideon as close friends or as even more than that. The woman was cold on the surface and whatever boiled under her skin was well hidden and locked. What gave her away though were her eyes. Their glitter revealed her curiosity about the killings and maybe even the fear, that the murderer was closer than she had suspected him.

"Is there anyone else around who raised your suspicion?" Morgan gave it another try. "Someone who doesn't fit in? Someone who watches women and has a hot temper? He might have been disrespectful towards you or anyone else he doesn't consider worthy enough to listen to."

Erin leaned back in her seat. There was just one person, she had met lately who fit that description. Ian Doyle was a rather rude and nasty fellow, but was he someone who cut off women's heads?

"There was this man... he applied for a job, but I had to turn him down."

"And who was that?" Hotch asked, alarmed.

"His name was Doyle. Ian Doyle."

The man they had seen in the Saloon the night before. "Why did you turn him down?"

"I didn't like the way he approached me," Erin answered with a cold shrug. "I threw him out." She pointed at the gun shelf in the corner of the room. "With a little help from my friend."

"I see. Thank you for taking your time to talk to us," Hotch nodded and rose.

"If there's anything else, I can do...," she offered and rose as well.

"We'll let you know," Morgan answered. "If you remember anything else, please don't hesitate to contact the Sheriff's office."

Erin faked a smile and led both men to the door. There was no way in hell, she would contact Gideon because of someone unimportant like Ian Doyle. If he ever crossed the border to her land again, her shotgun would end Ian Doyle. End of the discussion.

Kate Joyner who had waited in the hallway smiled when she saw Hotchner.

" Kate, will you take the gentlemen outside?" Erin asked and closed the door, without bidding them good bye.

"I hope your visit was successful," Kate said when she opened the front door for Morgan and Hotch.

"Let's say, we have a name to work with," Hotch answered seriously.

"Are you going to pay Doyle a visit?" Morgan asked, as they approached their horses.

"Yes," Hotch answered and turned to Kate. "Miss Joyner," he said and lowered his voice and closed the distance between him and Kate so that a group of workers who were passing them couldn't hear them.

"Do me a favor and keep your eyes open. The killer we're searching for has an unhealthy interest in women. Make sure the ranch is safe and always, and I mean always, have a gun with you."

Kate lowered her eyes and gave him a shy smile. Her cheeks were flushed when she answered.

"I'll do that. Thanks for the advice."

"Stay inside the house after sunset and lock the doors and close the curtains."

Kate looked up and for a second their eyes met. She saw the honest concern in his eyes and nodded "We will, Sir."

"Call me Hotch. Everybody does."

Kate smiled. "All right, Hotch."

"Hey Hotch... we need to go," Morgan sounded impatient, already in the saddle. "Unless you want to stay and protect the Lady all by yourself, while I chase Doyle on my own."

Annoyed by the interruption, Hotch tore himself away from Kate's eyes and went to his horse.

"I never knew you could be so jealous," he said dryly, as he grabbed the reins.

Will La Montagne sat undecided on Jennifer Jareau's bed and stared down on the silk stockings in his hand. He loved the smooth feeling when the soft material ran through his hands when he helped her to take them off, something she always asked for when he visited her.

The first night he had come to her, had been an act of desperation. He had been new in town, he hadn't liked his new boss and his nights were lonely and he was tired of feeling the touch of his own hand. And then he had met JJ, as everybody called her in the BullPen. Officially Emily's girls were just there to make the men drunk, but everybody knew they offered any kind of required services.

At first he hadn't quite known how to approach her, but she had made it easy on him and soon he had become her most frequent customer. She was attractive, witty and extremely talented in recognizing what he needed and how. If it weren't for all the other men she was also serving.

JJ wasn't exclusive and she had no interest in becoming exclusive for him. She had laughed when he had suggested she could stop working at the Saloon and become his wife.

"Will..." she whispered seductively and massaged the inside of his upper thigh with her foot. "Won't you take the other one off as well?"

As if her day hadn't been bad enough from the visit by two Marshalls who thought she was hiding a killer, her evening was ruined by the visit of the very last person she wanted to see. Erin cursed, as she climbed out of her tub. David Rossi in a carriage that was big enough to transport the whole ranch stood at her porch. And though he hadn't placed his foot on the wooden stair yet, his mere presence claimed the estate as his. From the window on the first floor she could only see his white hat and not his grin, but she could picture it. Damn him.

"I know she's in," she heard him saying, as she sneaked down the large staircase, wrapped in her bath robe.

"But not for you," she heard Kate's stubborn, yet friendly sounding answer. "She's busy."

"She's never too busy to welcome me."

Erin rolled her eyes. The man had a nerve.

"It's important," Dave said. "Tell her I want to talk about Ian Doyle."

The mention of the name, changed her mind. Why did he know Doyle?

"Ian Doyle?" Kate asked, but Erin interrupted her.

"It's all right, Kate. Invite Mr. Rossi in. I'll be down in a few minutes." With that she ran upstairs to change.

"I told you so." Rossi told Kate when she led him into the den.

"I guess I'm too new around here."

"Don't worry," he assured her as he wandered the room, taking in every detail. "You'll learn quickly how things work in this valley."

"May I?" he asked, pointing at the case with the cigars.

"They aren't mine," Kate stated with a shrug. Rossi commented the answer with a grin. "A quick learner."

"Thank you, Kate." Erin had entered the room and left the door open for Kate who knew that was a sign for her to leave. "I see you tomorrow." She wore a red dress with a suggested, but well formed and her hair pinned up. Kate noticed the scent of expensive perfume and soap when she passed her boss, but managed not to phrase her real thoughts.

"Yes, Ma'am."

After Kate was gone, the door fell in its lock and Erin and Rossi were alone in the same room for the first time for what had to be more than a decade. The last time had been after she had returned to the valley to marry Sebastian Strauss. If she remembered correctly, she had thrown a vase after Rossi. She couldn't remember the subject of their argument, but she remembered she had only missed him by a few inches.

Satisfied that her appearance hadn't completely caught him off guard, he lit the cigar and gave her a jovial smile. "Nice tobacco," he complimented.

"Sebastian's favorite brand. They arrived the day after he died."

The mention of her late husband was the perfect building material to erect a wall between them, but he didn't buy the bait. At least not the way he usually did.

"I see you keep them close to you. There are nothing but memories. They warm our hearts when the nights are cold and lonely."

She ignored the irony in his voice and strolled to the chair behind her desk.

"You said you wanted to talk about Doyle," Erin reminded him as she sank into her chair.

"Won't you offer me a seat?" Rossi asked. "Believe me, for what I'm going to say I deserve a comfortable place."

"You're already smoking my tobacco. My hospitability is limited, David."

"Since when?"

"David!"

"All right," he sighed, stubbed out the cigar, and circled her desk. Much to her anger, he sat on the edge of her desk, close enough to touch her if he wanted. She cleared her throat and stared at the painting over the fireplace, ignoring him until he finally started talking.

"I heard he applied for a job and you turned him down?"

"Yes. So what?"

"Because now he wants to work for me."

"So hire him or leave it," she shrugged. "I'm sure your estate is the perfect place for a cockroach like him!"

"Why did you turn him down?"

"As I said, he's a cockroach and I only work with people I trust."

"At least you learned from your experiences."

He didn't know why she had chosen the red dress, but he remembered she had always liked red, though she never wore it in public. At least not these days. There had been a time when she wore red and turned every man's head the second he entered the bull pen. Red was an intimate color and for the world Erin Strauss liked to appear cold while here and now her looks rather suggested the hot tempered vixen she actually was.

"Did he threaten you?"

Erin laughed, not because the idea was absurd, but because he looked suddenly as serious, as if he was actually worried about her. "No. He wouldn't dare."

His grip around her wrist was so painful that a scream escaped her throat. She hadn't seen it coming at all, but his reaction to hers had been quick and amazingly effective. He was stronger than he looked like and then she remembered him. With one movement he had pulled her up. He held her arm to his chest and she felt his breath, a seductive mix of expensive whiskey and smooth tobacco, stroke her face.

"Did he threaten you?" he repeated sternly.

"Like you do now?" She had found her voice and hoped it sounded steady.

He didn't answer and simply waited for a response from her while his eyes stared into hers.

"No," she said annoyed and to her surprise he released her arm. She rubbed her wrist, but she didn't withdraw, stayed close to him and found herself checking him out. With the white suit and the salt and pepper hair, he looked more dashing than ever. Together with the scent of her favorite cigars, the mix was almost overwhelming.

"He's working for me now," Dave informed her while his eyes looked straight at her face. His eyes created a small fire within her chest and she had to force herself to breathe calmly.

"For you?" she asked confused. "And why are you telling me this?"

"Because he mentioned you this afternoon and I didn't have the impression he was very fond of you. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him. Think about what happened to your husband."

Before he had finished the last sentence, he knew he had made a mistake. The wall between them that had crumbled a bit just one minute ago was back in place. Erin stepped back and went to the bar where she poured herself a whiskey.

"I'm not afraid of Ian Doyle or anybody else," she informed him coldly after a sip. "Your visit was a waste of time."

"I'm serious, Erin. The man's dangerous."

"Then you shouldn't let him run around your ranch."

"Thanks for the advice. Is that what I'm getting for my offer of protection?"

Erin smiled amused. "You're offering me protection?"

"Yes, I do."

"A completely selfless act," she snared over the edge of her glass.

"You know, you and Miss Joyner can't protect the ranch on your own."

"We don't need a man around here. Not Doyle, not you, nor anyone else."

"Is that your final word?"

"There's nothing I have to add," she answered sweetly.

"All right." He grabbed his hat from the chair and looked around for one last time before he turned to the door. "It was my one and only offer, Erin. A pity you don't recognize a good deal when it crosses your way."

Erin narrowed her eyebrows. "How could a deal with you serve me? My husband died after a game of poker with you. Dealing with you is obviously a deadly pleasure."

"He had a bad night," Rossi remarked dryly, the door knob in his hand. "But who works with me and not against me, will be on the safe side."

"In other words, give me the mine and I'll keep Doyle away from you. Do you really think I'm stupid, David?"

"The mine?" he asked, and a smile played around his lips. "Now that you mention it..." He chuckled and returned to the middle of the room. "There's one solution for both problems... the mine and Doyle..."

"Enlighten me..." Erin snarled, bored.

"Marry me... become Mrs. Rossi and give me half of the mine; in return you'll receive my full protection."

Even the nights in this sick place are sticky, Doyle thought as he stood at Emily's open window and smoked a cigarette. And indeed the night was unusually warm. He grinned, as the idea that the hell was preparing to open itself for its new citizen, crossed his mind.

The screams had stopped about five minutes ago and either nobody had heard them or the other citizens had preferred to ignore them. Some of them could also have been too busy to notice them. He knew the Sheriff was too busy with his Cuban slut to care what happened after sunset. Emily had been too busy to please him and he had the feeling at least one of the Marshalls was also enjoying himself and didn't care for the next whore who had found her end at the hands of the devil's legate.

He finished his cigarette and took a last look down on the street. Then he carefully closed the window and went back to the bed. Emily lay on her belly, sound asleep. He took his time as his eyes glided over her naked body. In her own way, she was perfect, but he would never tell her. He preferred to let her know with his little punishments how much he resented her for her perfection.

His eyes came to rest on her exceptionally shaped ass and the small shamrock that graced her right bottom cheek.

The blood gathered between his legs as he imagined how she would react if she awoke with the feeling of his cock entering her from behind. How the bed would move beneath them and how she would grab the sheets and beg him to release her.

Supported by his knee he sank onto the old mattress and bowed his head to kiss the skin around the small tattoo. His tongue licked the salt from her sweaty skin and then he felt her muscles stiffen. She was awake and one touch between her legs told him she was ready.

"On your knees!" he ordered huskily and she obeyed. Like a purring cat Emily arched against him and offered him everything he craved for.

When Hotch awoke, he was covered in cold sweat. He froze. The air felt sticky and way too warm, even for the small room he lived in these days. But he was cold from the inside. Something deep down felt the cold that truly possessed this valley.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. In his sleep he had heard something and it hadn't been a dream. He had heard a woman screaming. It had been a scream that was born from fear and grave danger. A scream as piercing and life altering as death itself.

In desperate need of fresh air, Hotch grabbed his clothes and left his room. Outside the saloon the city appeared deserted. The moon was hiding behind a big cloud and there was no wind that cooled the night off. His steps creaked on the wooden panels of the porch. He dived his hand into the pocket of his shirt, searching for a package of cigarettes and remembered he had given up smoking a long time ago. He hadn't felt the need to smoke in years, so why now?

To distract himself, he decided to take a walk around the city. He walked in the middle of the road and the houses next to him suddenly seemed bigger than at daytime, seemingly guarding him like creatures that were only alive at night. The windows were the eyes that followed him every step he took and Hotch noticed that his walk fastened the further he moved away from the bull pen.

Forcing himself to slow his pace, Hotch stopped as he had reached the hotel next to the telegraph office. The hotel were Ian Doyle was supposed to live, but when he had asked for him in the afternoon, after he and Morgan had returned from Strauss, the manager had told him Ian Doyle hadn't slept in his room for the last two nights and hadn't returned at day either. Was he in his room now? Hotch looked up to the window, but like all the other buildings in the town, this one was cloaked in darkness.

A small, cold breeze brushed over his face and caused the small hairs on his neck to straighten up. He wasn't alone. He couldn't hear anyone, couldn't see a single soul, but he knew he wasn't alone. His muscles tensed and reached out for the gun on his belt. The handle was cold, but the feeling gave him strength and courage. His eyes fell on the small alley between the post office and the hotel and he sensed the reason why he had woken up from his sleep was hidden right there. With his gun ready and his senses focused, he took another step forward and into the darkness.

**tbc**