Chapter 10

December 10, 2008

--

"My wife was... competitive."

Emily watched Dave and Derek through the one way mirror, arms folded across her chest. After her phone call with Holly Sadler the day before, the teenager, she knew, had filed for a deferral for all of her exams to come back to Bozeman. The young woman had seemed so confused on the phone that Emily had almost promised to call the school to explain what was going on. But they needed her help, they needed her testimony. And Emily needed to stay objective. Just for a few more hours, if this interrogation went as it was supposed to.

"We're not here to talk about your wife, Mr Sadler," Derek replied, twisting the only empty chair around to take a seat. He tossed a picture on the table. "Lily Clark."

Mason Sadler looked down at the photo. "Gift wrap. Same table as your agents."

"You remember her?"

"Well, yeah. Your agents wrapped three times as many presents as they did. Actually finished off both of their bins and the Clark's."

Emily shook her head with a small smile, fondly remembering that night. Hotch had even removed his jacket and tie. It was the first time Emily could remember seeing the man roll up the sleeves of an Oxford shirt and she had to admit it was only years of having the perfect composure that kept her from drooling. Forearms were a weakness of hers.

"I don't understand what that has to do with me," Mason said.

Dave moved papers around on the steel table. "We checked on your alibi for Lily Clark's death," he said. "Turns out, it doesn't check out."

"What?"

"It was between you and her husband, actually, the only two husbands at home for the deaths of their wives. But, it turns out Tim Clark has a solid alibi. You don't."

"We're executing a search warrant on your home, specifically for your boots."

"My boots? Why?"

"Footprints at the scene of Lily Clark's murder. What happened Mason? Were you interrupted? Something spook you? It's the only reason we can figure out for why you were so careful at every other scene except Lily Clark's," Dave said calmly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mason replied.

His body language told otherwise. His arms had folded across his chest and Emily could hear the discomfort in his voice. She glanced over her shoulder as the door opened, but turned back when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. More often than not, her ability to know it was Hotch walking into the room spooked her. For once, she was thankful for it. "He's lying through his teeth."

"What did you get out of his daughter?"

"She was hopping on a plane today to come back," Emily replied. "She wants to be here for her father."

"For her father?"

Emily sighed. "I think she's always known."

"Known?" Hotch asked, coming up to stand right beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.

"Or at least suspected her father wasn't completely clean in all of this," Emily replied.

"She thought her father killed her mother?"

"She didn't seem surprised that I was calling about her mother," she tried to clarify.

Hotch nodded. "We never want to report our parents."

"We never want to think our parents could do such a thing," she replied before turning her attention back to what was happening in the interrogation room.

"We're going to find the boots, Mr Sadler," Derek said. "And we've already got your DNA on the string of lights that killed Lily Clark."

"I helped her untangle her lights. She wanted to put them up," Mason said.

Dave stood, moving around the table. "What happened, Mason? What did Lily Clark do? From what we heard, she was a good woman, a fantastic mother."

Mason Sadler looked like he was almost sulking.

"She gave back to the community almost constantly. She did charity work, she donated to a number of charities, her and her husband-"

"She was a selfish bitch!"

Emily couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. He'd snapped.

"That's not the story we hear," Derek contradicted.

"Oh please. She and her husband were too busy... canoodling to wrap presents for needy children. If it wasn't for your agents, we'd have been wrapping presents late into the night!"

"And that makes her selfish?"

"It's the stupid competition," Mason said, slamming his hands down on the table. "No one sees Christmas as a family holiday. They're too busy hanging lights, too busy thinking of the best gift, too busy wondering what they're going to get instead of thinking about those that actually need help."

Dave moved back around the table, relaxing into his chair.

"And when they don't win, they sulk for weeks. They ruin the holiday for their children! They're all the same!"

Derek leaned forward. "Is that why you killed your wife?"

"Of course! She was the worst! I made Christmas for Holly. My daughter would not have a Christmas if it wasn't for me! Her mother was too busy worrying about how good the house looked to care about the traditions!"

Emily sighed on the other side of the glass. The outburst didn't surprise him. "His wife was sick," she said softly. "That was no reason to kill her."

"His mother took her own life on December 12," Hotch said softly.

She glanced over. She hadn't even seen the file he'd brought with him. "Are we sure?"

"No, but it was ruled a suicide. We'll never know."

Emily sighed, turning when the door opened.

Sheriff Tyde poked his head in. "Holly Sadler is here."

That night, after a day of ensuring Bozeman had everything they needed to close the case, the team wearily climbed onto the FBI jet. Emily took a seat on the bench almost immediately, opening her laptop. She needed something cheery after the day she'd had.

Holly Sadler had suspected that her father was at the end of at least some of the murders. The young woman was intuitive. She admitted she knew her mother was sick. She'd known Victoria Sadler suffered from depression. The weeks leading up to Christmas were ones she hated. Her parents never fought as much as they did when it was time to put up the decorations. Her father had always allowed her to decorate the Christmas tree and it was only when she was older that she noticed the decorations she put up would always change the morning after she did them.

"She was obsessive-compulsive and I didn't realize that until I was probably about fourteen and a boy in my class was too. I realized that it was just what Mom had to do," Holly Sadler said, sitting in the conference room with instant hot chocolate Sheriff Tyde had produced for her. "I got upset at first, for the first few years after I realized she changed things, but... it helped to know it wasn't like she could help it."

"Do you know what set her off?"

"Natty," Holly replied almost immediately. "Mom always used to say Natty needed everything perfect for Christmas. Even after she died, Mom, I don't think, ever realized it. We had to tell her every Christmas that Natty was dead."

"She took her own life, right?" Emily asked softly, her own hand curling around the coffee mug on the table.

"That's how the police ruled it," Holly agreed. "But in my life, certainty just didn't happen. Between Mom's depression and OCD and Dad's... I don't know what he has, I was never sure what I was going to come home to."

"How bad was it?" Hotch asked quietly.

"They never hit me, Agent Hotchner, if that's what you're asking. My parents loved me, even on Mom's bad days. I learned early on to hide my mess because it made my parents stop fighting. I probably have OCD, just not as debilitating as Mom's."

Children, young people, like Holly Sadler always put Emily's life into perspective. Her mother wasn't OCD, per se, but she definitely had her mind on how the family looked to the outside world instead of necessarily what was best for her family. It was Emily's life and, much like Holly Sadler, she did have people that made her childhood Christmases memorable. So now, she sat on the plane, pulling out her blanket as she waited for her laptop to start up. Out of her laptop bag came a DVD case, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and she inserted it into the CD drive, fully intending to settle back and watch.

She glanced up with a small smile when the bench dipped beside her. "Hey Hotch."

"Mind if I join you?"

She smiled. "Sure."

"What are you watching?"

This time, she blushed. "The Grinch," she answered. "Probably my favourite."

--

Hotch filed that away. He'd been hoping he'd get the chance to sit with her on the plane. Emily had been right when she said she'd looked at the case as blasphemous. It was always difficult to look at a case when it reminded him so much of his family. After all, it was difficult to think impartially about his family when it was so close to the holiday season. It was even more difficult to think that, in many ways, he wasn't going to play a part in his son's Christmas.

He accepted the offered ear bud and settled in for the movie.

They were about half way through the movie, the computer having moved from her lap to his so she could curl her legs beneath her – he'd notice she really enjoyed sitting like that, even kicking off a shoe to curl a leg beneath her while working on cases – when she rested a hand on his arm.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said softly.

He looked over at Emily, feeling the heat of her hand through his jacket. "Just thinking about Christmas," he replied vaguely.

She looked around the jet, ensuring that everyone else at least looked asleep. "Jack?"

He considered saying 'no', considered just telling her that it was about the holiday in general, but then realized she'd probably know he was lying. There was a fifty percent chance she'd push him at least a little bit if he lied. And if she was as good as he thought she was, she was bound to figure out at least the large majority of what was bothering him. "Yeah."

She took the ear bud out of her ear. "You said it yourself, Christmas is about tradition."

"But I won't be involved in most of our usual traditions. Not that I was any other year."

He noticed she didn't bother to hide her surprise. "Hotch, come on. Jack knows you love him, even if you can't be there all the time. Plus, it's not like you don't want to be there."

This was true, but it didn't actually make him feel any better.

"You can make your own traditions, you know," she told him softly. "Just because you're not his primary caregiver doesn't mean the two of you can't start your own holiday traditions."

Hotch didn't know how to reply to that and pretended to focus on the movie.

"I have an idea."

Now he looked to her, noticing the secret smile and spark in her eyes. He was growing to really like that look. "I'm listening."

"Emmy and Carrie have a Christmas concert tomorrow night. Nothing fancy, just a bunch of elementary school kids singing slightly out of tune."

"I have Jack."

Her smile only widened. "Perfect. It can be one of your new traditions."

"Your nieces school concerts?"

She laughed softly. "Not quite. I bet Jack's school does one."

Hotch thought about it for a moment.

"Come. It can't hurt and it's all Christmas carols. A real Christmas lover wouldn't be able to say 'no'. And they're usually selling hot chocolate afterwards for the kids. I'm sure Jack will love it."

He smiled. Emily with children was an offer he was having a hard time passing up. "Sounds good."

"Excellent."