Escalation
Chapter 7
Recreation

"No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich" – Louis Sabin

'I have seven possible, and three likely.' Garcia said, showing the list she had made to Dave. He took the list and glanced through it.

One disused winery, a storage facility owned by the same people, and a big old house called Bodely Lodge, awaiting demolition.

He looked up.

'Good work, Garcia. The winery is the closest. We'll go there first. Then the house, then the store.' he said.

Emily Morgan and Dave ran to the SUV that was parked outside. The first stop was just outside the city. The Winery hadn't been used for a good many years, but it was still standing due to an ongoing insurance wrangle that could not be settled. It was a big ugly building on prime real estate, surrounded by cracked tarmac that had once been a car park for the work force.

Morgan drove slowly around the building. All the doors were heavily padlocked, and had grass and weeds growing right up to them.

'No one's been in here for years.' Morgan said.

'I'd agree with you.' Dave said. 'Stop the car and let's double check. I'd hate to go and leave here if it is where Aaron is being held.'

Morgan parked the car and the three got out. Dave went right around the building, Morgan and Emily went left. They checked every door and window, but apart from a few broken windows that were too small to give access, there was no way in.

Silently they got back into the car.

'Next stop is Bodely Lodge.' Morgan said. He waited as a dark green saloon drove past the gate and he took the SUV left towards the house.

-0-0-0-

The dark green saloon drove on and entered the city. In the trunk, Hotch was breathing the exhaust fumes, and as the car passed the city limits sign, he crawled to the front of the trunk and tried to find a place where he could find fresh air. There was a small space by the rear light fitting, and he tried to breathe air through the gap.

Then he had an idea.

He turned in the small space, and kicked at the light until it dislodged and the light went out. Then he did the same to the other side.

It shouldn't be long now until the vehicle is stopped, and he could get some help.

The cop that noticed the car with no rear lights was from the same precinct as Abrams. He followed the car a couple of blocks, and then turned on his lights and siren. He had just dropped off his partner at home, and technically he was off duty, but this was just a little thing – a warning to get the lights fixed – and then he could go home.

"A good cop is never off duty." his boss always (and I mean always) said.

The car pulled over in a lay by.

'Can I help you officer?' the man driving said.

'Please get out of the car. Your rear lights are out.' he said. 'Let me show you.'

Hotch was breathing heavily with excitement; he would be free in just a few seconds. He had heard the sirens, and now he could hear the voices outside the car. The voices were getting closer. He lay on his back, and with all his strength he kicked at the lid, and screamed for help. He heard the cop tell them to open the trunk immediately, and Hotch held his breath. Then to his horror, he heard a gun shot, and the sound of a body falling.

'No! No! No!' he screamed, kicking at the lid until it dented. The lid opened, and the man punched Hotch in the face. His head rocked back and Hotch passed out. The lid was closed, and the car once again drove off.

-0-0-0-

Morgan pulled up fifty yards from the Lodge in a thicket of trees. The house had once been surrounded by gardens. Al that remained of them now was a litter strewn mess. Dave noticed at once that there had been recent activity there; where the door opened there was an arc of litter free paving.

'This is the place.' Dave said. 'Be ready.'

There was a trail of blood droplets from the door ending in a small pool. Dave examined the pool and the area around it.

There has been a car parked here, and someone has been put into it, judging from these blood patterns.' He looked at his colleagues. 'I think we are too late.'

Side arms at the ready, they crossed the ground to the door. Emily and Morgan stood one side of the door, backs to the wall. Dave took the other side. Emily leaned across and pushed open the door.

Inside the room that had once served as a hall, there was more rubbish. The Lodge had seen its fair share of squatters. There was a malodorous air in the hall – rotting rubbish, and an underlying familiar smell.

The blood trail led to the door to the cellar. Again they took up their positions on either side of the door, and pulled it open.

The smell was overpowering of human waste, tinged with the metallic taste in the air of blood, and lots of it.

Morgan shone his flashlight down the blood spattered steps into the cellar.

'You are right, Rossi. We are too late. But this is the place for certain.'

Dave called the CSU to process the place, then he said,

'These UnSubs are pretty confident.'

'They haven't cleaned up after themselves.' Emily said. 'They must be certain that there are no indications as to where they are now.'

They backed out of the door back into the hall. Morgan stooped down and checked out the blood trail. He dipped his finger in one of the droplets.

'This blood is fresh.' he said. 'They haven't been gone long. Hotch was alive when they moved him.' He stood up. ' We've only just missed them.'

Dave nodded. 'A car passed us at the winery.'

He didn't need to say any more. The other two knew what he was thinking.

-0-0-0-

Hotch woke up as he was dragged out of the trunk of the car. He was disoriented and confused, and he didn't struggle as he was pulled along a pathway to a door into a house.

He could feel the blood running down his legs, and at that moment, he remembered what had been happening. He tried to pull away from the two men pulling him along, but they tightened their grip, digging their fingers into his flesh. He cried out as the pain hit him in sickening waves, and he was dragged through the door, and up a flight of stairs.

The room he was pushed into was a bedroom. It was sumptuously decorated with a large four poster bed in the centre. He noticed to his distress that there were chains attached to the corners of the bed but for the moment at least, he wasn't chained to the bed. Rather he was dragged to the corner of the room where his neck was fitted with a steel band, and he was chained to the wall. The chain was just long enough for him to get onto his hands and knees. He couldn't stand up even if he was able to. There was a box with towels in, such as an animal would sleep in, and he was shoved into the box.

'You stay there until we want you.' one of the men said.

Hotch couldn't keep on his feet, and his knees gave way. He felt the pain of the rapes throughout his body, and he feared that there was a lot of damage. He was still bleeding as he fell to the ground, half in the box, and half out. His legs were bent up and pushed into the box. He considered fighting, but there really wasn't any point. The four of them would simply beat him until he complied with their wishes – that much he had learned.

Two dishes were placed by him, one with water, the other with what looked like dog food. When he had been left alone, his despair was absolute. He tried to pick up the bowl of water, but it was attached to the floor so he had to drink it like an animal. He refused to do it. They were treating him like an animal, until they wanted him, then he would be beaten and abused as they wished. He had been sure that the team would have found him by now. Now he was moved, he feared that they would never find him, and this was to be his life from now on. He felt tears of misery well up in his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around his face to hide them.

-0-0-0-

He was left alone for several hours while he watched the light of the sun move across the wall of the room. He tried to move into a more comfortable position, but each time he moved, the bleeding started up again. So he lay still, waiting for whatever was going to come. As the sun went down on his fifth day of captivity, he found out just what they wanted him for.

The four men came into the room and detached the chain from the wall, and dragged him over to the bed like a dog on a lead. The rope was cut off from his wrists, and he was lifted onto the bed and chained there by his wrists. For about ten seconds, Hotch relished the comfort of the bed, then the abuse began in earnest. The punches to his stomach and abdomen knocked the wind out of him, and as he tried to breathe, he was beaten about the face. He felt teeth loosen and his lip split as he was punched and slapped.

Then he was raped again by the four of them in turn, smashing into him as they took what they needed.

Then they turned him over and began again, as he fought vainly to get them off him, screaming involuntarily as they had their way. Then, sated and happy, they dragged Hotch across the floor, leaving thick blood on the carpet as they pulled him into the corner, back to the box. They re- attached the chain to the wall, where he fell onto his side and fought unconsciousness and exhaustion and pain.

That night, one of the men showed Hotch to a woman, who gleefully kicked him to see if she got a reaction.

'If you want him, Honey, I'll try to arrange things for you.' he grinned. Then smirking at the man lying at his feet, he said that he doubted he would be capable, but she was welcome to try.

'I'll look upon it as a challenge to my womanhood.' she said, poking at him. 'He's better looking than the last one you had here; a good body. Shame his face is all bashed about. He could have been nice.' She pushed him onto his back and leaned with her foot on his stomach. Hotch retched and threw up on the towels he was lying on, and the woman laughed.

'The dog's been sick!' she grinned.

'Do you want to play with him, Hon?' he asked her.

'I'd rather play with you.' she said,

The two of them spent the night in the bed where Aaron had been abused, but they ignored him, much as they would ignore an animal tied up in the corner.

Hotch groaned as he turned onto his hands and knees and crawled to the bowls. He was dehydrated and needed the water. He lowered his head to the bowl and drank it, feeling profound relief as the water moistened his torn lips and cut mouth, but shame and embarrassment overwhelmed him. He was desperately hungry too, but he was also very sick and didn't touch the food. He crawled back to the filthy towels and fell onto his side and fainted with exhaustion and fear.