8

Sam Has Something To Confess.

He's not there. I cant bloody believe that he's not in! Sister fucking Mary-Agnes opened the door looking all withered and shrivelled and disgusting. A big silver cross dangling around her scrawny neck. I hate nuns. I hate them so fucking much. Holy bitches who will or at least need to burn in hell. I have scars on the back of my legs from them hitting me. Well maybe not actual physical scars but memories… or just my imagination but that's as good as having them and I want to spit in her nasty thin lipped face.

'He's not here.' She says. And I just stand there with my mouth open for a while and then she's trying to shut the door.

I put my hand out both real fast and careful like and put it on the door just under the letter box. 'Well I can come in and wait cant I?'

'Why don't you go home and book an appointment. Father Green is a very busy man.'

I feel that need to spit again and so I do, but I spit down on the ground next to her feet. 'Well I do have an appointment.' I tell her. I think I do. He didn't tell me not to come back and so that's as good as begging me on his knees isn't it?

'He has no appointments today. He's out.' Again she's trying to close the door.

'But he told me to come back today!' I wail at her. 'And it's raining again and I…'

'Not today.' Slam… the door is shut and I hear the locks being pushed across.

'You fucking whore bitch!' I kick at the door. 'You don't know what he said to me! You weren't there! How the fuck would you know what was said!' But she doesn't open the door again. 'Fucking bitch!' I shout through the letter box and then move away just in case she's a bitch enough to call the cops. I go back to the little crib and crouch down. There's a small amount of shelter from this incessant cold icy rain. Not much, but better than standing in the street. I look into the crib and there's the sheep back there again so I put my hand in and remove it. Someone must have stepped on it because there's a leg missing now. One of the back legs. I turn it over in my hand and drop it back to the floor again. What the fuck point is there in having something broken in there? I put in my hand and pull out a woman with a blue dress on. I rub my thumb over her face which doesn't have a lot of detail on it and it feels smooth. I think of nice things I could do with it with Danny and then decide that he'd probably know where I got it from and get mad at me. People get mad for the oddest of reasons. I pluck out something else and it's just a blob of plastic. This fucking crib is crap. It's cheap and nasty. I think it's meant to represent the birth of the kid, but it's all wrong. There shouldn't be animals there and there shouldn't be men with brown faces and crowns on their heads. You'd think that they'd get little things like that right wouldn't you? It's ugly and horrible and I feel no guilt as I stand and start kicking it and stamping on the little people who fall out of it. I don't give a shit. I don't care. I'm doing the world a favour. Another favour. I've already done one and that's what I wanted to talk to Danny about.

So I sit on the steps of the church and smoke. It's not funny shit, but normal tobacco. It does nothing but make me feel sick. I've not eaten in a while. Not eaten properly and I do have money in my pocket still cos I didn't actually get a room last night. I think about life and love and promises and I look down at my hands and think what they did last night and how really that was maybe a stupid thing to do but it's done now. I would sort of like to tell Danny though. I would kind of like to warn him maybe that I did something I maybe shouldn't have done, because what can he do about it? I'll just say that he molested me and I went funny in the head and did stuff…

At around mid-day I go and get a burger and then I come back and sit on the steps of the church again. I do wonder if I missed him and think about knocking on the door but I'll eat my burger first and wonder what that old crone is doing in Danny's house and if she's up there sniffing his sheets and wearing his boxers on her head. Wouldn't surprise me one iota. Nuns are twisted sick beasts and should all be put down at birth. Are they born to be that way? That's a thought. How do you decide to devote your life to celibacy and long boring nights talking to some invisible being who never listens? Maybe they think they're being listened to? Delusional old witches that they are.

I stuff my wrapper with what remains of the naff crib and wipe the oil off my hands and I'm just about to go find out if Danny came home when I was away when some cars pull up.

Now I think I might know what this is all about. Do I run? Do I stay and blag it out? Shall I attempt to go in the church?

Fuck. Fuck and more fuck… they're going to Danny's door and now some blokes are standing looking at me and I know I look guilty. I'm standing like a fucking deer caught in headlights and cant move. I make the situation worse by bending over and puking on the church steps. I think that the door opens at the house and there's talking going on but I cant move. My feet are glued to the fucking steps. They must know. They have to know but how did they know I was here. I'm so fucking stupid considering I'm meant to be intelligent. One of the coppers, for yeah… sure as hell that's what they are, one of them turns to me again and I try to take a step back and nearly fall arse over tit down off the step but I do manage to back away.

'Are you Sam?' He calls out to me and I'm turning away. Oh fuck I have to get away. 'It's all right!' A voice is calling. 'We just want to talk to you.' So finally I find the ability to run, but I don't seem to find the equally delightful ability to look where I'm going and I'm tripping over the shit which came out of the crib and something has caught around my ankle and I'm falling. They're still shouting at me not to run. They don't even sound angry with me and I'm laying amidst a pile of tat and straw trying to get up and failing totally. My next ploy is not to move. Not to talk. Not to say a fucking thing. 'It's OK.' Someone is touching my back. 'We are police officers. You're safe.'

'Safe?' I spit it out and then remember that I'm meant to be keeping my mouth shut so I just do the next best thing and burst into pathetic tears.

Interview Rooms.

They have two people for now who they can talk to. Though for the faces looking through the mirrored window in at one of those people the case seems to be closed. It's the same pattern which always seems to erupt around their ears when a particular person is involved. Morgan though isn't so sure about this and Spencer is very sure that they have The Wrong Man, even though that man wasn't here in the police station. The side glances at Morgan were beginning to irritate him.

'It has all the hall marks of Flanders.' Hotch was saying.

'But…' Spencer wanted to defend him. 'It couldn't have been him.'

Hotch turned slightly cold eyes to Spencer. 'He fits the profile.' He stated. 'And that young man…' He turned back to look through the window at Sam who had his arms wrapped around his head and was resting it on the table. 'Doesn't.' He finished. 'We are looking for someone aged between…'

Reid cut him off. 'But I know it wasn't.' Oh he could feel the rot swelling through his body. Spencer knew for sure that one of the bodies found was probably a victim of Floyd's and was likely the one whose blood Spencer helped to wash off. The other's though… now he knew that couldn't have been Floyd. Sure he'd left him alone for a while but he wasn't in the condition to go on a sudden rampage. 'Hotch it wasn't Floyd.' He sighed.

Again those cold eyes looking at Spencer. 'I think that you're too emotionally connected to this. Go home. I will call you in if you're needed.' The cold voice matched the eyes.

'It wasn't him.' Reid stated again and once more gave Morgan a quick glance.

It was Emily who walked towards the door. 'I'll talk to him. Maybe he'll be more responsive to me.' She had a burger in one hand a small tray with two mugs of coffee in the other. 'He's scared.'

'But what of.' Hotch muttered and went back to look through the window.

Sam wanted to look up when the door opened but he didn't. He'd made a decision to talk to no one and that's how it would stay, until of course they let him talk to Fr. Green. Then maybe he'd do what they wanted. It was strange though because they didn't seem to be angry with him. Emily sat down after placing the food and drink on the table. She had a folder under her arm which she put down in front of her.

'Sam I'd like you to look at some pictures for me.' She spoke gently but Sam knew the bitch and knew that she was not going to keep up this front for long.

He looked up at her though and wiped his snotty nose on the sleeve of the ratty wet jacket he was wearing. 'I've done nothing wrong.' Sam moaned at Prentiss.

'Well no one said you had. We just want to talk to you about a few things. There's a burger for you and some coffee.'

'I want a smoke.' He sulked as he prodded the burger wrapped in greasy paper.

'Later maybe. For now I want you to look at some pictures and answer some questions.'

Sam looked at Emily through red puffy eyes. 'I don't know.' He answered. 'I don't know anything. I've not done anything so how can I answer any questions if I've not done anything and if I'm not in trouble you cant arrest me.'

Prentiss nodded and pushed the folder towards him. 'You're not under arrest Sam. Please look at the pictures in the folder and tell me if you know any of those people.'

'So if I'm not under arrest…' Sam flipped open the folder. '…I don't have to answer anything and you cant keep me here.'

'Let's just say that you are helping with enquiries.' She prodded the top photo to get Sam's attention back where she wanted it. 'Do you know who that is?'

Sam glanced down. He knew who it was. He'd seen him… more than once, but he shrugged. 'Might have seen him at one of the shelters.' Which was perfectly true. 'It's not really that easy to tell from a mug shot.' Emily turned to the next and Sam frowned down at it. 'Again maybe… it looks like Alex, but I'm not sure.'

'How do you know Alex?' Emily still had that sweet soft voice.

'He sells stuff. But he was unreliable. I'd ask for one thing and he'd bring another and sometimes bring nothing at all.' Emily didn't bother asking what sort of stuff. They already knew that Alex had been a small time drug dealer. She prodded the next picture and again Sam frowned. 'No idea who that is.' He picked up the picture to look closer. 'Is he dead?' Sam ran a finger over the slightly grainy photograph. 'I've not seen him in the shelters. What happened to him? Did someone kill him? Is he a whore or a junky?' Sam put the photo down but carried on staring at it. He sipped at the coffee and shrugged. 'What happened to him?' Sam asked again.

'What about the other two photographs. Do you know the other two?' Emily's tone of voice had changed slightly, but Sam looked at the last two pictures and nodded.

'I've seen them hanging around the shelters.' He pushed it away and looked at the face of the person he didn't know. 'Tell me what happened to him.' He again held up the picture to look closer at it. Emily carefully removed it from Sam's hands and placed it back in the folder which she closed.

'Don't you want to know what happened to the others?' She asked him.

'Well sure… yes…' He reached out for the folder again wanting another look at the unknown face.

'When did you last see Floyd?'

And again she had Sam's attention. 'Well the motherfucker never fucking turned up when he said. As fucking unreliable as that mother fucking skank Alex. I saw him a few weeks ago. He was meant to come back a couple of days ago and never fucking showed up. I waited all damned day for him and there was no sign of him. I have no idea where he is. Do you think he killed those people?'

'Tell me what happened Christmas Eve. Where were you?'

Sam picked up the burger and started to eat. 'I just told you. I was waiting around for Floyd and he never turned up. Then Christmas day I went to the shelter and they'd not let me in, so I tried to get arrested just so I could be somewhere dry and they told me to go home, but I don't have a fucking home! I live on the damned streets but I knew Father Green would help but he didn't really want to help me either, but I had a bath and he gave me clean clothes and then told me to leave so I left and walked around the streets until this morning and then went back to him cos I knew that the shelters wouldn't let me in. They've sort of banned me from going to them because they say I'm a fucking junky wino bitch and I'm not! And I only whore when I really have to. Look at the state of me! Who'd want to stick a cock up my arse? No fucker would. Not and pay me anyway – at least not at a good rate.'

'Last night as you walked the streets, did you see anything unusual? Get any funny feelings that you were being followed? Anything strange happen?'

Sam's eyes narrowed. 'Strange? Like I was being stalked?'

'Did a stranger approach you?'

'Strangers constantly approach me Emily.' Sam sighed. 'Then walk away when they see I'm covered in fucking scabs cos all I ever get to eat is other peoples left over shit. Oh thanks for the burger. I cant remember if some particular approached me. I got some cash at the johns at the park, but I don't know who it was. The lights are always off there and I only got the see the toilet bowl as I was kneeling. You know? It's not like I'm fussy what someone looks like, especially if I'm not looking at a face. I doubt he was all that particular either as all he got to see was the back of my fucking head. So are you going to arrest me for prostitution now? I really don't care if you do. It'd mean I got more to eat than a fucking cheap burger and I'd maybe get a proper bed to sleep in. Now why am I really here?'

'Did anyone threaten you last night?'

Sam wiped at his nose again. 'Emily – you've never quite understood what it's like to live on the streets have you? It should be part of your training and then you'd not ask lame questions like you do. Of course I got threatened. Can you see that bruise on my face under my eye? Well that was from a couple of days ago… I get slapped and threatened every fucking hour of my life. If not by other – if not by street whores then by fucks like you. It never ends. I cant remember to be perfectly honest with you but I don't think so. I did have to run at one point.' Sam decided it was time to lie to this sweet Agent Prentiss. 'I was down by the river where the bridge is in the park. There's usually business going down there especially when it's raining cos there's shelter there – but there was someone down there already and I couldn't see who it was cos it's so dark but I don't think whoever it was wanted to be disturbed and I could see a glint of his eyes from the yellow over head lighting on the bridge and he was staring at me, so I turned and started running and I could hear someone chasing me for a while, but I'm pretty fast on my feet and I know all the little hiding places in the park now and I managed to slip down behind the big gnarled roots of a tree and disappear into the shadows and whoever it was ran right on by me. I stayed there until I knew he wasn't coming back then left. That's all though, but I get chased by the park wardens often. It's nothing new really. But maybe that was a threat? I don't know. I can tell you that it sure as hell wasn't Floyd… if that's where this is leading to.'

'What is your connection with Father Green? Why did you go to him for help?' She pushed the coffee closer to Sam and sipped on her own.

'He works in the shelters. That's how I got to know him, but he's a good man. He's kind and genuine and stuff. I went to his place a couple of times for a little bible study.' Emily nearly choked on the coffee she was sipping. 'You find that amusing?' Sam snapped at her.

'Please carry on Sam.'

'Well I don't think I feel like talking to you if you're going to laugh at me. I didn't go there to read the bible. I went there for free food and some warmth. He even lets me have a bath there sometimes and gets me dry clothing. He's a good man. He tries to get me to go to the shelters but as I said they wont let me in. They say I'm trouble. I go to Father Green because I know he's a priest and I know he's safe. He's not going to try to fuck me.' Sam could feel his face getting hot. 'But I'm only allowed there if other people are there too and I'm not allowed there if he has special guests. I don't go there often but I was desperate.'

Prentiss nodded and stood as she picked up the folder. 'Do you have somewhere to stay for tonight?'

Sam stood, picked up the almost empty plastic coffee mug and hurled it at the walls. It made a soft splashing sound and magically made the door open and Hotch step in. Sam was already in full rant mode though. 'I just sat here and fucking told you that I don't have anyplace to go! I just said that the shelters wont let me in and I have a fucking good idea that Father Green has been warned away from me now too thanks to you and that bitch Mary-Agnes. What the fuck did I do wrong? I happen to know some mother fucking turd who doesn't show up when he says and so I'm guilty by association! That's so not fucking fair! I've not done any fucking thing wrong! It's not my damned fault that those idiots got they necks broken…' Sam started at Hotch then at Emily and then sat down quickly. 'You cant fucking well keep me here! Want to leave. I want to go! I need to say my confession to Father Green. I want something to eat! I need… I want… You fucking bastards!' Sam wrapped his arms around his head again and slumped to the table in howls of pathetic tears.

Hotch and Emily silently left the room.

'He's lying.' Hotch said as the door closed behind him. 'He was talking in past tense before he knew… he picked out the one who was not connected to Father Green and the shelters. He knew about broken necks yet kept asking about one in particular.'

Emily stood next to Morgan and looked through the window. 'He's certainly lying about something. He knew about four of them but not the fifth. But maybe that's just because the others were connected to Green as is he.'

'I'd like to know exactly how he's connected to Green though.' Morgan hissed. 'Either way, all five of them had shelter connections and he could easily have known them even if there was no connection via Green.' Morgan looked towards the doorway where Green was sitting talking to Rossi. 'I want to know how often Sam goes to his little safe house. I want to know if he has other boys back there. I need to know what the hell he thinks he's playing at and did he know that Sam knew those other four kids. And I'd love to know how Sam knew they had broken necks.'

Emily sighed as she looked through the window. 'You think it was Sam and not Floyd who did this?'

'Doesn't fit the profile.' Hotch muttered. 'But we've been wrong before.' He turned to look at Reid who was sitting on a chair staring at the wall. 'And I want you to go home.' He said to him. Hotch then turned to Derek. 'Take him home will you? Or if he's not happy going back there make sure he's booked in somewhere. I don't need my Agents wandering the streets in the rain.'

Slowly Spencer stood. 'Hotch?' Just on that one word Aaron knew that Reid had something important on his mind. 'Hotch… I really need to talk to you about something.'

'Later Kiddo.' Derek took Reid by the arm. 'You can stay over at my place for the night if you don't mind the couch.' Morgan didn't think it was the right time for Reid to tell Hotch he wanted to resign.

Rossi was talking quietly to Green who seemed more than a little bit upset about the news of his dead friends. 'They've been no trouble. Two of them had jobs and had recently started renting a room. They were past the trouble and moving onwards. They came to me still in times of crisis but that's what I'm there for.'

'And Sam?'

Green shook his head. 'Sam is the most recent young man I've tried to assist. He's very troubled. Very deeply troubled. He should be getting professional help from somewhere. His problems are not just the usual street problems. I get a few young men and women come to me for help. People turn to God when in crisis. It's not uncommon. They drift again just as quickly but it's not up to me to judge them on that. I'd never turn someone away because I didn't think they had the staying power to attend mass once a week. Sam though… it's more than drugs, alcohol and sex, much more. He's unstable. He wont talk of his past. He gets very angry if I try to get him to discuss it with me but I'm sure that's the route of his troubles. I like him though. Even though he'll do astonishingly wicked things, he's not evil. He's unwell. But as said I'm not a professional and he refuses to talk to anyone but me it would seem. Do you think he's safe?'

'Safe in what way?' Rossi was making notes on a pad.

'From whoever killed the other boys. Sam's name was on the same list.'

Rossi's head snapped up. 'List?'

'I have a list of boys I've helped and their current location.' Green sighed. 'Sam is on that list along with the four other boys.'

'And where is this list Father?'

'At home. I have all information of that sort filed away. I can get it for you if you want.'

'Does Sister Mary-Agnes know where the list is? Could she fetch it and bring it in? Or we could send someone there to get it?'

Green nodded slowly. 'It's no secret if that's what you're asking. The list is in amongst the other paperwork to do with the Shelters I help in. I think it's important – at least for some young men and women it is, that they're not forgotten. They need to know that they'll get that card through the post around Christmas time or birthdays… they need to know that at least there is one person always there keeping in contact… passing on information.'

'I agree.' Rossi said. 'Do you know Floyd?'

Green sighed. 'I know of him. I've heard the name. If we are talking about the same man Sam talks of. I've never met him. He seems to let Sam down a lot. I don't even know what this man looks like or how old he is.'

'Do you know how old Sam is?' Rossi sat looking at his hands.

'Sam? How old Sam is?' Green rubbed at his eyes with fingertips. A vile sickness was creeping through his stomach. 'It's never been a matter that needed to be discussed.' He added… oh how it should have been though. Green bit down on his bottom lip hard trying to stop the panic he was feeling. 'He's an adult.' He stated, but he had a horrible feeling that he was going to be told otherwise. 'He'd be in the care of social services if he wasn't.'

Rossi nodded. 'Well thank you Father Green and I'm sorry to bring you such bad news at this time of the year especially. Do you know anyone who would have had a grudge against your friends?'

'I cant see why anyone would want to. They were very special to me Agent Rossi. They were like young brothers to me.' He clarified. 'But I don't see why anyone would want them dead.'

Ideas Ripped From Floyd.

I was slotted into a machine and told not to worry – told it was just going to take pictures of my brain. They expected me to lay there and let them do that? Are they insane? What the hell do they think they are? Fucking cocksucking motherfuckers! I told them they were that. They stuck needles in the tops of my legs and ripped away my puffy air stuff and slotted me into the infernal machine anyway. I would have moved had I been able to, but they were trying to cook me alive in there. Do they realise how fucking dangerous this is?

My eye itches.

My nose itches.

I'm drooling.

'You will hear a knocking sound for five minutes.'

Well thank you for LETTING ME KNOW! What they think I can fucking well do about it I don't fucking know. I'm sure they're meant to give me a button to press just in case I need to puke, but I'm offered no escape.

'You will hear a knocking sound on your left side for five minutes.'

I'm going to choke on my fucking droolfest I have going on here and I CANT MOVE but thank you for warning me of a sound I can do fuck all about.

'You will hear a tapping sound for two minutes.'

'We will be drilling into your brain and sucking out your super human powers.' – Ok they don't say that but if they did I'd not be able to do anything to stop them. Damn tit bitches… when I can move I'm going to suck their eyeballs right out of their overly bleached prissy fucking fake tan faces.

'BITCH!' I howl when they pull me out of the machine and I think I surprise them that the meds they gave me didn't work for as long as they'd have liked. They have to get some fucking hoard of tall over weight Irish wankers to stop me ripping the MRI room apart. They seem to have managed though and hey ho… straight jacket time. I'm dragged along the floor and I'm spitting at everyone who gets close and I can taste blood but I think it's mine. Rooms and floors and ceilings and doors and windows with bars on them and people with their arms crossed, screaming boys with heads like dogs and laughing girls with heads like kittens, the rooms are too small and too big and sloping and have stairs… doors and pink dressing gowns and blue bath robes, bald men and glasses with tape over the bridge and dancing Spaniards and Italians with Lutes and there's a piano with a dwarf and a midget walking a tightrope… fun… a circus of insane people… two headed people… people no arms or legs or too many arms and legs or one eye or no eyes or three eyes and no mouth or tits and dicks or nothing, nothing just absolute nothing but silence and doors… banging through doors and more… clanging open cages full of wild beasts… and finally the peace of white limbo. This is good. At last.

I can turn off my head and sleep.

So I curl up in a corner and I scream myself to sleep.

They think I'm bonkers.

The truth is though, that what is happening is I'm seeing through the veil. It's the world that's insane. I'm the only one left who can think straight. Well me and Spencer…