Chapter 6

While the team was getting to know Alastair Thorne, Hotch was getting to know a different side of Mr. Richard Watley and Agent Max Grant. The more invisible side. He had been sitting on the wrong side of an interrogation table, now, for about thirty minutes. He was alone in the room. No one had stepped in since they deposited him here with an overly casual, "we'll be right back." They were letting him stew. It was so obvious, it was painful. These guys thought they were going to out-profile him? Please. He was sure one, or both, of them was behind the mirror. Watching. He would've been. Then again, if Hotch were in their place and someone else was sitting where he was, Hotch decided he'd have put someone in the room. Someone with a quiet menace so the suspect couldn't ignore the seriousness. But not someone who was outwardly aggressive. That would send the wrong signal because that message kills the larger— Hotch's thought stopped abruptly. Well damn, he thought. That was exactly what Grant's job was back at the BAU. Maybe these guys weren't as amateurish as he first thought.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly. At least he wasn't cuffed to the table. Hotch almost found this amusing. He would have, except. Except that he still didn't know what was going on with Emily. He didn't know what Watley and Grant were going to come back with. It had to be something big though. There was no other reason to provoke and bait him like Watley had been doing; there was no other reason to actually arrest him on such a ridiculous charge. Hotch generally preferred to have more information than he currently did. He'd have to wait until they came back and then profile them on the fly. They had played it oddly back at the BAU. Watley had been so animated and antagonistic that it almost seemed like an act. Almost, except Hotch sensed that was at least partially real. He had seen it in the man's body language. Grant had been the opposite, practically blasé, if it weren't for his constant drawing attention to his sidearm. But that was strategy, or was it? Hotch had decided that Grant was playing a particular part. He wasn't so sure about Watley. Watley wasn't an agent; he didn't have the same training. He was a diplomat and a politician (probably), hard as that was to fathom. The man had very few social graces as far as Hotch could tell. Still, there they had had an audience; that always changes the profile read. Hotch would get a cleaner impression here, with just the three of them. At least he assumed they would both be back. There were two chairs on the other side of the table. It struck Hotch that Watley wouldn't want to miss his interrogation (unless he was more of an actor than Hotch gave him credit for) and he certainly wouldn't be qualified to do it alone.

The thing about this whole ridiculous ordeal that irritated Hotch the most, was Emily. He didn't know what her game was, what moves she was making. That meant he didn't know how to help her. He didn't know if the things he would say, or not say, here would hurt her or by how much. Generally speaking, for the suspect, it was usually best not to say anything at all. However, for a profiler, that wasn't really the modus operandi for this exact situation. Hotch would learn more by engaging with whomever was in the room. From the relatively little Watley and Grant had actually given him, this seemed to be a National Security issue. That meant the Patriot Act. If that was truly the case, then saying nothing actually could do significantly more harm than not. That, right there, was the other potentially game-changing aspect of this little powder keg. He'd like to think that he would do anything he could in order to help Emily out of whatever situation she was currently embroiled in. He absolutely would. Except his 'absolute' wasn't entirely absolute. He was bound by law. Law and an ethical code. He'd run into this problem before, with the Ian Doyle case. Clyde Easter, Emily's Interpol colleague (Hotch really hated to think of that man as her friend, even though he knew that he was), had questioned his oath, his integrity, and his commitment to Emily's well-being. Here they are again, potentially, and Hotch didn't know if he'd be able to make a different choice with respect to his own course of action. Hotch's current mission was safety, protection, and law enforcement. Emily's was… Intelligence was a whole different world. Emily's mission was secrets, knowledge, and (sometimes) the wielding of power by any means necessary. Hopefully that came out on the side of right more often than not. Ethics was usually absent from that mix; it wasn't from his.

That wasn't entirely fair though. Emily Prentiss was an ethical person. With a preternatural ability to compartmentalize and rationalize. That's what made her so suitable for Intelligence work. She was a good person. If she was doing something that others deemed "not good," illegal, or dare he think, terrorist, he knew she'd have a damn good reason for it.

Damn it Emily, Hotch thought. Why hadn't she come to him? Why hadn't she left him any clues? Why the hell hadn't she told him about what she had been through in the first damn place! He was running hot; Hotch really needed to calm down, get his emotions in check. Take a page out of Emily's book and compartmentalize. Now. This was exactly why those two idiots had left him in here all alone for so long. He was walking right into it, again. Stop – Now, he thought. Deep breath in. And out. Put the face back into a neutral mask. There you go, he thought. Okay, he was back. God, this really annoyed him. Did she not trust him? Hotch thought they had re-built a pretty good friendship over the past several months. Why did she have to do this again? Go off and handle something on her own without telling anyone. He really thought she was past this sort of behavior. She shouldn't've left the team when she did, he couldn't help but think. He could have fixed this behavior by now. Then again, she usually saw this type of action as a self-sacrifice of some sort to save or protect someone else. He wouldn't want to "fix" that. That instinct didn't need to be fixed. It was one of the character traits he admired most about Emily Prentiss.

Hotch was getting fed up with waiting. He needed to act. Before he could, though, he had to have more information. That involved getting someone in the damn room with him. He had an idle thought, and let the tiniest of grins cross his expression briefly. He put his head in his left hand and slumped over a little. He let the fingers on his right hand skim lightly back and forth over the tabletop. Sure enough, a moment later, the door opened and Watley and Grant were both walking through it. Hotch suppressed an eye roll. Show a little powerless behavior and the uninitiated will jump on it. Neither of these guys (Watley and Grant) were master-interrogators. That was good; it would be easier. Now he had a plan. As he was sitting up though, Hotch caught sight of someone else behind the door that made his blood run a little colder, someone that gave his brain a laser-like focus. Senator Cramer. Son of a bitch.

Senator Cramer was the man behind the Senate investigation of the BAU after Ian Doyle. Cramer seemed like he was on a witch hunt for Emily Prentiss back then, three years ago. Hotch sometimes thought, when he allowed himself the indulgence, that Cramer was one of the forces pushing Prentiss out of the BAU (and out of the country) for good. She would never admit to that, but Hotch secretly thought that may be. When Emily left, the team gave up on paying attention to Cramer. Had that been a mistake? Had the Senator been harboring a grudge this whole time? Had Cramer continued his witch hunt? This changed things. Hotch needed to be very, very careful.

Watley and Grant were oblivious to Hotch's change in focus and demeanor. "So Hotchner," Watley asked as he sat down, "been enjoying your alone time?" Hotch stared at him until Watley grew uncomfortable under the gaze. It didn't take long before Watley was shuffling his files around and looking away. Hotch hid his smirk.

"Agent," Grant took over, "Tell us about Declan Doyle."

What? Hotch did a double-take, from Watley to Grant. What did a high school kid have to do with anything? Especially a kid from a long-done case. Though given Cramer's presence, maybe it wasn't long-done for everybody. Hotch needed to gain control of this. He leveled his eyes at Grant and returned smoothly, "Don't you mean Declan Prentiss?"

"So you know about that?" Grant asked.

"I do. Agent Prentiss adopted him about a year ago," Hotch answered.

"Why?" Grant queried.

Hotch was annoyed. They were going to make him sit through more of the showmanship that they had put on at the BAU. Fine. Hotch would play along. But only so far. "As I'm sure you know," he began, "Tom Kohler was raising Declan since Agent Prentiss put him into protection, along with Doyle's housekeeper Louise. Louise was killed three years ago when Declan's biological mother came looking for him. Kohler since developed terminal cancer and passed away. Agent Prentiss adopted him." "As she was always meant to do," Hotch couldn't help but add.

"Yeah," needled Watley, "Ms. Prentiss is mother of the year."

This time Hotch didn't rise to the bait. He had to be smarter. Instead, Hotch rather passively shifted his weight in the chair and looked at Watley in what he hoped was a non-aggressive manner. "The kid had no one and nowhere to go. Why would Agent Prentiss want to disrupt his life by putting him into the Foster System?"

"Why, Agent Hotchner?" Grant pulled Hotch's attention back, "Why, indeed?"

"You're on record for having visited the kid a few times at his boarding school. Why would you do that?" Watley asked. Hotch could sense there was trouble ahead, though the question seemed to be genuine. "Did Ms. Prentiss ask you to?"

"Why do you keep calling her Ms.?" Hotch returned. "Her title is Agent." He was very big on respect for his team.

"It's not," Watley fired back, almost immediately, "as we've already told you. Ms. Prentiss is no longer employed by Interpol."

Watley faced off with Hotch until Grant put an end to the glares. "Could you please answer the question Agent Hotchner?"
Hotch reluctantly pulled his attention from Watley to Grant. "Yes she did, the first time."

"Why?" Grant prodded.

"There were legal papers, about the change in custody, which Declan needed to sign. She asked me to look them over first and then bring them to Declan so I could answer any questions he might have." Hotch's sense of uneasiness was growing.

"That's right," Watley mused, "you used to be a lawyer."

"Okay. Fine. But why go back?" Grant continued his line of questioning as if Watley had never spoken. They were an interesting pair.

"Declan's just a kid. His parents, for all intents and purposes, were dead and/or dying. Agent Prentiss is far away in Europe. He's all alone and potentially still a target." Hotch couldn't get a read on Agent Grant and this particular line of inquiry. That bothered him. "So I visit from time to time. The school's in Virginia. I'm close."

Grant nodded. "You've even taken Jack." It was a statement, not a question.

Whoa. Hotch leveled his eyes at Grant. After a moment, he responded, measured. ""A few times. Jack likes soccer. Declan plays for his school team."

"How sweet," Watley crowed. "A ready-made family." Hotch glared at Watley. In this moment, Watley seemed immune. "If only mommy would just come home."

This time Hotch didn't rise. Watley kept using derivations of 'mother' when he talked about Emily, or Hotch's lack of Emily. That could be telling. Hotch filed it away to make use of later. Instead, he addressed Agent Grant. "What is your point?"

"Declan Doyle Prentiss is missing. He disappeared from his boarding school." Grant was watching Hotch closely.

"Gentlemen," Hotch began, "Agent Prentiss is his legal guardian; she has full custody." This was about to go sideways, he could tell. He just didn't know how much. "If she wants to remove her son from school, she has every right."

"But Agent Hotchner," Watley said sweetly, too sweetly, "She didn't."

"She couldn't have Agent Hotchner," Grant clarified, "Declan disappeared right after Agent Prentiss was rescued from Istanbul. She was still in the hospital. It's documented." Grant was still watching him too closely. "Someone else took Declan. Someone here. In Virginia."

"And as you said," Watley tagged on, "Europe is far away. And you're close."

It got very quiet in that interrogation room. Hotch could hear everyone breathing. This is it, he thought. This is what they think they have.

Agent Grant was talking again. "Prentiss made some questionable moves around that time. She made some intriguing financial transactions. She filed a new Last Will and Testament. It includes provisos for a Living Will. From her hospital room."

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment. He had to shut everything out and concentrate.

"She gave you custody of her son." Grant announced. "She made you her medical and legal proxy. She named you the executor of her estate." The dominos were starting to fall.

"Should anything happen to her, of course," Watley tacked on.

Hotch opened his eyes. Was that actually a threat?

"Agent Hotchner," Grant asked, "where is the boy? Hotch turned his eyes to Grant. Grant continued, "Wherever he is, she's likely to be nearby. So I'll repeat the question: where is the boy?"

"I don't have him." Hotch said quietly.

"That's unfortunate Hotchner," Watley said, with what sound to Hotch an awful lot like enthusiasm, "Because if you don't have him; if you didn't take him, then Emily Prentiss set you up!"

TBC