My Life Had Stood
Chapter 40: No Lid Has Memory Pt 3
William Reid sighed, parking his suitcase against the hotel bed before sitting down. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. Though he couldn't relax enough to sleep or even lie down. Just sitting down and not pacing took an effort, and it was only because his feet were sore that he refrained from it.
He ran his hand through his hair, and glanced at his briefcase. Inside which was the folder that he'd shown Alvarez. He inhaled slowly, folding his hands in front of his mouth briefly as he considered the documents and how the other lawyer had reacted to reading them.
Sighing again, William Reid took out the folder and opened it. He took out the first sheet gingerly, his eyes growing moist as he read it. His hand shook as he held the document, a medical report issued by the hospital so many years ago. Thirty-three years to be precise.
"He's going to be mad we never told him..." William muttered to the empty room, and placed the document down beside him. Afterwards taking out the next item in the folder, a paper-clipped stack of pages from a detective agency. The top page was dated twenty-five years ago, while the last and most recent page was from twenty-two years ago.
'I should've kept searching...' William Reid quietly berated himself, shaking his head and placing the documents back inside the folder. The quiet of the hotel room felt suffocating and allowed his thoughts to fester.
0
"Is it true?" Was the first thing JJ said as she entered the bullpen area. Her eyes shifted from Morgan to Lewis, both of whom seemed as worked up as her. "Somerfield turned himself in?"
"Agents are bringing him in now. He was all the way on the other side of the country."
"How did he manage that without leaving a trail?" JJ asked.
"He paid cash and used a false name. One that he stole from among Connell's victims."
"Damn..." JJ muttered, then paused considering something else she'd been told. "What about Reid? And Alsie? Garcia said something happened with Reid and that there was new information on Schmidt..."
"Reid's okay. He got hit with a bad migraine but he'll be all right." Morgan fell silent before answering the blonde's other question. Lewis however took over before JJ needed to ask about Alsie again.
"Alsie's name is Adrienne Crawford, not Allison Schmidt. She apparently stole the identity. Garcia is currently trying to figure out when she did so. All we know is that it was at least thirteen years ago, since that's around the time she and James met and she went by Allison by then."
"Damn. How is Reid taking it? Knowing that Alsie lied to him?" Her eyes narrowed when Morgan shook his head.
"He already knew. At least that her name was Adrienne, originally, not Allison. According to what he said to Rossi, he and Alsie met as children and she gave her name as Adrienne Leigh Crawford." Morgan took a moment before continuing, noting JJ's questioning glare. "Reid assumed her name changed due to her being adopted or whatever. He told Rossi that there were signs Alsie was being abused as a child. Bruising on her arms, not to mention that scarring on her face which seems old enough to be from her childhood."
"God..." JJ muttered, trying to wrap her thoughts around this new information. Between this new knowledge and her concern for Spencer, she felt overwhelmed. As did the rest of the team. "Has anyone questioned Alsie...Adrienne yet? She certainly has a lot of explaining to do."
"Hotch is taking care of that. But he said it might take a while since doctors are running tests and whatnot on her. He didn't give details, but something happened early this morning."
"Is she okay?" JJ asked immediately, concerned for the woman. Despite the lying about her name, so far everything else they'd checked into about Alsie was true. Including her relationship with James and her pregnancy three years ago.
"Not sure." Morgan replied, about to elaborate further when he noticed Rossi coming out of the elevator. He motioned toward the other agent with his head.
Noticing them, Rossi quickly approached. He immediately started asking if Somerfield had been brought in yet, to which the others replied that the plane he was being escorted on was still about twenty minutes from landing.
0
Alsie worried her bottom lip with her teeth, almost making it bleed as Hotch stood by her bedside. He hadn't said a word, other to ask if she could answer some questions, but she could sense his anger. More worrisome was that he'd addressed her as Crawford not Schmidt. After a few more seconds of silence, Hotch spoke.
"Why did you lie to us? To Reid?" He asked, his face stoic and his eyes discerning.
"No." Alsie shook her head, glaring up at the dark haired man with her sharp brown eyes. "I didn't lie to Spencer. I didn't. If he'd asked I would've told him."
Hotch studied her, her micro-expressions and tone of voice. Everything about her behavior appeared truthful, yet there was something nagging at him. Something about her, especially her eyes.
"Explain to me why hiding the fact you stole the real Allison Schmidt's identity isn't the same as lying." Hotch's eyes narrowed when Alsie shook her head.
"I didn't steal her identity. No." Alsie insisted, her voice a little high-pitched. But otherwise she seemed calm and in control, something that Hotch found disconcerting. Especially since he noted no signs of deception though she was clearly lying.
"That's a lie. You're not the real Schmidt yet you've been living as her. That's stealing her identity."
"No. No. I...didn't...I became her. I didn't steal..." Alsie took a few breaths, her eyes becoming moist. She looked away from Hotch, closing her eyes as she focused on a memory. "I...after Allie died, granny...Mary Schmidt, she...didn't want to let go. I...I became Allie so she wouldn't have to let go of her granddaughter."
Hotch, having been ready to tear apart whatever lie the woman was going to give, faltered for a few moments. Alsie's admission and her reason for the deception, threw him off completely. Of all the possible reasons, he hadn't expected this.
"When did the real Allison Schmidt die?" He asked after sitting down, noticing the quiet sadness in the woman's voice.
"...I'd just turned twelve. Allie was ten." Alsie breathed in slowly, tears running down her cheeks though she hid them by letting her hair shield her face. "We were playing by a well. She surprised me, jumped on my back. I...I stumbled...and...I couldn't hold her...I..."
Hotch nodded, taking in the story and mulling it over. He thought about the tests the hospital had run on Alsie after she'd fallen earlier. None of them had been conclusive, but there was a history of falls in 'Allison Schmidt's' medical files. All which occurred after the age eleven.
If Alsie was telling the truth, those records were hers not Allison's, and they strengthened her story.
"Is there anyone that can verify this? That Mrs. Schmidt took you in to replace Allison and that Allison died in an accident?"
"Andrew Kendall. He helped out granny Schmidt whenever he could. He was there that day." Alsie replied, calming herself by fidgeting with her hands.
Hotch was about to reply but froze, his expression taking on a strange look. The name Alsie had just said was familiar. He knew he'd heard it before, in connection to another case, and a little girl. His eyes widened as it hit him.
The Jane Doe that was found buried on that one case months ago! The one Andrew Kendall had insisted he'd killed, despite the evidence to the contrary. Alsie was referring to that girl!
"Mary Schmidt lived near the border between Pennsylvania and West Virginia, correct?" Hotch asked, barely waiting for Alsie's nod, the question more of a oratorical one. Alsie glanced at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. It was evident that she didn't realize why he'd asked that question. And he realized that it was probable that neither Mary Schmidt nor Kendall had told her what they'd done with the real Allison's body.
"Agent Hotchner, I..." Alsie started to speak after a moment or two of silence, but hesitated. The look in her eyes frightened and anxious. "...Is Spencer all right?"
"He's fine." Hotch answered slowly, the sudden question strange. He hadn't mentioned anything about the younger agent, aside from saying he couldn't sit in on this questioning. The nagging feeling from the start of this conversation came back in full swing.
"...he's not having an headache...?" Alsie asked, her voice soft and barely audible. Her brown eyes attempted to delve into Hotch's.
"How...what makes you think that?" Hotch asked, his eyes searching the petite brunette's face. Her body language, her hair, her eyes. The nagging feeling in the back of his thoughts grew stronger.
"I...never mind. That's not important." Alsie replied, averting her eyes after a few moments. Her hands fidgeted with the blanket covering her legs, and her voice sounded a tad off.
"I think it is..." Hotch said, picking up on the lie. Alsie didn't respond, but kept her face turned away. "What are you hiding? Is it something to do with Reid?"
Alsie closed her eyes, and bit down hard on her lip, most of her face still hidden by her hair. The question both upset and irritated her. "Just drop it. Please."
"No." Hotch shook his head, his voice firm but also not threatening. After learning about Alsie's alleged dissociative identity disorder, he and Rossi had decided that it'd be best not to antagonize her. To at least wait until she was cleared medically. "Miss Crawford, you..."
"No. 'Alsie.' Or 'Adrienne.' Not that name." Alsie looked at Hotch, her reddened eyes holding a blend of anger and pain. Her cheeks were puffy from soundless tears. Her lips quivered as she watched Hotch's eyes roam over her face, alighting on the scaring on her temple. "Not that...that family's name. No."
"...All right, Adrienne." He replied, the reason behind Alsie's reaction to the name 'Crawford' not too surprising. If she had been abused, especially violently enough that she still suffered the physical effects from it, it wasn't surprising she didn't want a reminder of it. The way she referred to the Crawfords as 'that family' and the tone she used seemed a tad off however. Though that may have just been the nagging thought that kept telling him that she was familiar.
"Hotch?" Spencer mumbled from the doorway, having just entered Alsie's hospital room, his brow furrowed. After finishing up talking with the nurses and other medical personnel, he'd headed straight to Alsie's room. The dream he'd woken from hours ago echoed in his thoughts, like it was on an endless repeat.
Spencer knew he had to talk to Alsie.
Closing the door quietly, he approached the bed quickly but also cautiously. Within seconds he noticed the redness of Alsie's cheeks, his eyes widening with concern.
"Reid, you should still be resting. Your migraine..."
"I'm fine." Spencer interrupted, his attention fully on Alsie. He studied her for a few moments, wordlessly. The next moment he turned to Hotch. "Were you questioning Alsie? Now? She's in no condition to be interrogated."
"Reid, I wasn't interrogating her." Hotch replied, but faltered as the nagging thought in the back of his head intensified. He quickly shifted his gaze from Spencer to Alsie and then back. His eyes widened a fraction though he betrayed no other sign of what had just occurred to him. "...I think the rest of my questions can wait for now."
Hotch excused himself from the room, the nagging thought strengthened by each passing second. Once he was in the hall, he dialed Garcia.