** I do not know how many people are on staff at Sierra Vista, so I am using the number of people from a psychiatric hospital I was in many years ago which only had 67 beds, and increasing it slightly.**
Chapter 2
The BAU jet had taken off from the airport on time and had been in the air for several hours. Derek Morgan and the others were seated together reviewing the files on the six victims all former patients of Sierra Vista Hospital.
"Jennifer Lawman, 19; Donna Marvel, 19, Tara Jamison, 22; Samantha Lowry, 27; Susie Hanlon, 22, and Andrea Ackles, 20," JJ read off each name and their ages. She was kneeling in the seat behind Prentiss and Reid and facing Rossi and Morgan who sat side by side while leaning over the top of the double seat with a folder. "Each girl was single and living on her own except for Jennifer Lawman who lived with her parents as she was taking a year off due to her illness before returning to Cal-State Fullerton in the fall, and Tara Jamison who had her mother staying with her for awhile since her divorce."
"Garcia, anything connect these women besides all being in the same hospital?" asked Rossi. He scanned the photos of the victims momentarily before his eyes looked in the direction of the television monitor on which he was met with the faintly smiling face of Penelope Garcia. He could tell from her face that this case was upsetting her as well and was secretly glad she was back at Quantico where she wouldn't have to physically see anything that was similar to the case in which Hotch had disappeared even though all of them were familiar with the circumstances.
"Nothing from what I could tell,sir," Garcia replied. " All of our young ladies did not even have the same psychiatrist during their times at Sierra Vista," Garcia explained. "Instead, it seems like every two girls had the same shrink. For example, Jennifer Lawman and Tara Jamison both saw Doctor Hunt; Donna Marvel and Andrea Ackles saw Doctor Bowman and Susie Hanlon and Samantha Lowry saw Doctor Halliday. Also, Sierra Vista is not a large hospital as it only has 120 beds and a staff of fifty-six which consists of ten shrinks, 15 nurses, eight regular doctors, eight nutritionists, eight counselors and seven medical social workers. The head shrink is a Doctor Jackson Hunt."
"Hey Garcia," Prentiss interjected. "Were any of these women hospitalized at this particular hospital either previously or at the same time?"
"No to both questions, my raven-haired beauty. But Jennifer Lawman had been seeing a psychologist named Abigail Kissinger who referred her to a shrink by the name of Reginald Ottinger who after evaluating her, prescribed an antidepressant that she overdosed on both times."
"Garcia, did any of these women know each other?" asked Reid.
"There's no indication they did, my resident genius."
"Garcia, check out this Doctor Jackson Hunt," Morgan requested. "Find out everything you can about him and get back to us asap."
"You got it."
"Okay, thanks Garcia," Morgan said.
"You're welcome, boss." Garcia then forced a small smile to her face. "Uh, one more thing."
"What is it, baby girl?" asked Morgan.
"Derek, please bring all of you back home safely. After losing Hotch, I couldn't stand losing somebody else."
Morgan smiled faintly as he studied Garcia's face on the monitor. "I promise you, baby girl, all of us will be coming back this time. And I promise you one more thing as well."
"What's that?"
"If the same two UnSubs that were involved when Hotch vanished are involved in this, we're gonna make 'em tell us where he is and if he's alive. So try and relax."
"I will if you say so. Stay safe my darlings." The monitor went blank.
"Hey JJ," Morgan turned toward the media liaison. "Who's the police chief in charge of the investigation?"
JJ thumbed through her papers and spoke without looking up. "That would be Chief David Madison. He'll be waiting for us at the precinct." She let her blue eyes scan her team.
"Who was the most recent victim?" asked Rossi looking up from the file.
"That would be Andrea Ackles," said JJ. "She was found in her car by one of her neighbors when they heard a motor running in the closed garage. Cause of death was from carbon monoxide."
"Then that's where we start from," Morgan advised the others. "Rossi, you and I will check out the latest crime scene and talk with the neighbor who discovered the body; Prentiss, you and Reid go to Sierra Vista Hospital and speak with this Doctor Hunt and see what he can tell you, and JJ, set up the time-line of each victim starting from the time each one was admitted to Sierra Vista, was discharged, along with when and how they died."
"You got it," JJ said making a note in her folder.
"Also include what type of mental illness each victim was treated for," Morgan added. He noticed JJ nod as she made another notation. His eyes then shifted to Reid and Prentiss. "Prentiss, while you and Reid are at Sierra Vista, keep your eyes open regarding members of the staff. Our UnSubs were a married couple, and may be working at this hospital as well. I want to know about any married couples working at that hospital, but if there are any, don't confront them as we don't want to tip them off. Just keep your eyes open."
"Sure," Prentiss replied softly and Reid just nodded without saying anything; he just chewed his lower lip. Inwardly he wasn't sure he could keep his mouth shut if he did discover a married couple on the hospital staff. He might want to drag them both into an empty room and let Prentiss use her Glock demanding they tell them where Hotch was and more so if he was alive. And if he wasn't, well, he might have to rethink what he'd do then.
The ambulance pulled up outside the front doors of Sierra Vista hospital. In front of the ambulance was a small American car; two people, a man and a woman, sat in the front seats. They watched in the rear-view mirror as the driver and his partner got out of the ambulance and walk around to the back where the doors were opened. That was when he and the woman got out of the car and made their way to the back of the ambulance as well to watch the stretcher in the back being removed. There had been another EMT in the back with the patient.
"Did Mr. Hefner cause any trouble?" the man asked calmly while putting an arm around the woman's slender waist.
"None at all, sir," said the EMT who had driven the ambulance while reaching inside and pulling the stretcher forward towards he and his partner while the man inside the ambulance eased the stretcher forward. "He hasn't moved or made a sound nearly the entire trip."
The man standing beside his wife appeared concerned when he heard the news. "What do you mean by nearly the entire trip?"
The man easing the stretcher forward shrugged. "I was speaking with my partner during the trip, and the patient reacted to something we said. It was weird considering he was staring blankly into space the entire time"(1)
The man and woman exchanged looks before both turned their eyes back to the EMT pulling the stretcher forward. "What were you talking about?"
"That's just the thing. We were just…talking. But not about anything specific."
"You're sure?" asked the woman, curious.
The EMT inside the back of the ambulance could only shrug his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am," he said.
The man exhaled through his nose. "Anything else other than that?" Dad probably won't like it when he hears this.
"He then began exhibiting signs of trying to imitate my movements during the trip and I became afraid he might injure himself so I gave him a mild sedative just to be safe." The loading stretcher, it's back elevated and locked in an upright position, and mechanical folding legs, folded under the stretcher when it was loaded originally into the ambulance, were now unfolded. The patient was strapped securely onto the foamed cushion and was staring at nothing, his brown eyes holding a blank stare, devoid of all life and light. The aluminum handles, one on each side, had been pulled straight up for safety purposes. The man and woman continued watching as the stretcher was rolled toward the front doors of the hospital, and followed behind it. The other EMT carrying a clipboard, following behind the stretcher as his partners, one holding the handle at the head while the other the handle at the foot rolled the stretcher forward.
"Jack isn't going to like that he reacted to the EMTs talking," he said softly into the woman's ear.
She smiled and spoke without turning her head and keeping her voice low. "If he remains catatonic there shouldn't be a re-occurrence of that problem. But your father will know what has to be done."
The man smiled at her. He kissed her cheek as they entered the hospital. "You're right, Daria," he said. "My father wouldn't want anything to happen to Mr. Hefner." As they entered through the front doors, they saw Dr. Hunt standing there near the nurses' station with the three EMTs and a member of his own staff; he was going over the paperwork on the clipboard the EMT had given him.
"These look to be in order, gentlemen," Hunt replied. He bent over and raised one eyelid to examine one of the patient's eyes. Frowning, he repeated the process with the other eye before looking up. "Why was this man sedated if I may ask?" He did not appear happy at this discovery.
Daria let out a deep breath, knowing this moment had been inevitable. "Jack, Mr. Hefner overheard one of the EMTs talking and he repeated something he heard." She then explained about the patient trying to repeat the movements of the EMT thus forcing him to sedate the man to avoid him injuring himself. She noticed Hunt grunt with displeasure but seemed to accept her explanation before letting the matter drop.
"Sorry dad," the young man said. "We didn't know until a few minutes ago."
Hunt waved them off. "It's not anybody's fault," he said with a touch of annoyance. "It couldn't be foreseen." He waved for the EMTs to follow him and the nurse which they did with two of them handling the stretcher down the long hall and around the corner where reaching their destination, Dr. Hunt opened a closed door and held it open for the men to manipulate the stretcher into the room. He then watched as the two EMTs unfastened the restraints on the stretcher and carefully moved the patient onto the full-size bed where they helped Hunt fasten the restraints on the man's arms and legs.
"This should keep Mr. Hefner from moving around too much and possibly injuring himself," the doctor told the others. "Thank you, gentlemen and have a good day," he told the EMTs as he handed the driver a signed receipt certifying he had received the patient he was waiting for. Then he, Daria, and his son, watched the three EMTs leave, closing the door behind them. Hunt looked at his daughter-in-law. "Any trouble in Louisville?" he asked.
"Just a bit, but nothing Ron and I couldn't handle," Daria said with a slight smile.
Hunt smiled back at her. "My dear, you and Ron did well. Now we can continue with the experiment and see if Mr. Hefner does better than those women here and the ones in Louisville." Hunt suddenly looked as if he remembered something. "Before I forget, the FBI is coming here to the hospital."
"The FBI?" asked Ron nervously. "What are they coming here for?"
"That stupid police chief called them asking for their help concerning the women. We must be careful and make sure Mr. Hefner isn't in the visiting area when any of them is here. If they see him it might trigger something that could cause him to start remembering before the experiment is complete."
"Is there anything we need to do, Jack?" Daria asked.
"Not right now. He'll probably sleep for several hours. I'll make sure to have one of the nurses page me when he wakes. Come, we must plan for the FBI's visit." He left the room followed by his daughter-in-law and son.
"Be careful."
"You too."
Why did those words sound familiar to him? Where had he heard them before? Somebody perhaps spoke them somewhere? He didn't remember saying them. Why couldn't he remember anything?
"Uhhhhhh," he groaned as he turned his head to the other side. But still the memory persisted even as he continued sleeping.
"Be careful."
"You too."
Why couldn't he remember? Was there even anything to remember?
"Be careful."
"You too."
There it was again. Those words. Why did he still hear them? Who said them? Why did she say 'you too' ? Wait. She? What she? There was no she. He turned his head to the side again and unconsciously pulled against his restraints. "Uhhhhhh," he murmured again. He was so immersed in the darkness he wasn't even aware of someone lifting his eyelids and of a penlight being flashed into his pupils.
"You're all right, Adam," a male voice said from somewhere in the fog. "You continue to rest and tomorrow, we will begin with the experiment." He patted the patient's shoulder and started to get up from the bed, but then just as quickly sat back down again. He stared at the sleeping man with interest.
"I understand, Adam, you reacted to hearing something during the journey here," the voice said calmly.
"Uhhhhhh," Hefner murmured again slowly continuing to move his head from side to side.
The man leaned closer to Hefner and put his lips up against the man's ear. "Soon you will not remember anything, Adam, except what I want you to remember," he said with a smirk.
The voice sounded so far away, like hearing it through an echo chamber yet it was so far away he could barely hear it.
"Your name is Adam Hefner," the voice said calmly.
The name meant nothing to him; he didn't even know who Adam Hefner was. He was so out of it he never felt the sleeve of his shirt being rolled up and his arm being exposed, nor did he feel the cold of an alcohol soaked cotton ball rubbing a spot on the exposed arm. He also had no reaction to the pricking of his skin by a syringe and the wiping of the same spot on his arm by another wet cotton ball, nor feel his shirt sleeve being rolled down again.
"What I just gave you won't hurt you, Adam. It's just something to keep you…how should I say…intoxicated for our purposes. But let me leave you with this thought. You are Adam Hefner. Understand? Adam Hefner." He again patted the man's shoulder. "See you in the morning, Adam." He got up this time and after tossing the cotton balls in the wastebasket, and putting the now empty syringe in his jacket pocket, walked out of the room. He then approached the nurses' station and looked at the nurse behind the counter. "Hand me the chart for Mr. Hefner," he said calmly.
Doing as she was told, the nurse handed the chart to the man who, flipping it open, began to write something. "I just gave Mr. Hefner a sedative that will help him sleep throughout the remainder of today and the hopefully until morning. Have somebody check him every two hours and then I'll check on him again myself come morning." Closing the chart he handed it back to the nurse and smiled tucking his pen into his breast pocket.
"Yes, Doctor Hunt," she said with a smile of her own.
My name is Adam, he told himself as he shifted positions on the bed. My name is Adam. I don't know…don't know…don't know anybody by that name. Adam.
He settled down as the drug began to take effect. He felt like his mind was being ripped from him leaving only an empty void where once something should be. But what? He wanted to cry out but being unable to. He tried telling his mind to do something, anything; but found his body resisting the urge to move.
Adam. My name is Adam. But there is something…someone…I don't know…can't remember. Adam Hefner soon found himself staring blankly at the ceiling unable to move or speak. It was shortly afterward he fell into a deep but troubled sleep.
Daria and Ron were waiting in Doctor Hunt's office when the door opened and the doctor walked in, closing the door. Smiling, he patted his son on the shoulder as he walked around his desk and sat down behind it. Then, he smiled at both young people who sat facing his desk.
"Well?" asked Daria anxiously. "How is he?"
Hunt exhaled through his nose. "He should sleep for hours. I gave him a mild injection of the drug to keep him intoxicated. That, combined with the sedative should keep him quiet. But I asked the nurse to check him every two hours and inform me if something occurs before morning. But he should be fine as long as he stays in his catatonic state."
"Is there any chance he might remember anything, dad?" asked Ron with a concerned look at his father.
"I seriously doubt it, son. But he'll continue receiving the drug often enough to keep him quiet. Right now he doesn't know his own name much less who he is, so I seriously doubt he'll remember anything else. And if he should start, you know what will have to be done then." The last sentence was more of a statement that a question. But Hunt watched his son nod slowly.
Hunt leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped and resting on his stomach. "I must admit that at first I was against having him take part in our experiment, but now that I've met him, I believe he may be just what we've been looking for."
"He certainly is different from the others," Daria interjected with an amused grin.
"That he is, my dear," Hunt replied. "And he should do very nicely as long as we can keep him hidden from the FBI. If they see him, there's a good chance all our efforts will be for nothing."
(1) Echolalia is the parrot-like repetition of a word or phrase just spoken by another person.