only 2-3 more chapters left! *relieved weeping*

The van driver rocked back and forth in the empty interrogation room at the Kansas City police department, his forehead moister than a lake. "I don't—I didn't do anything." He muttered. He looked around nervously, wiping his mouth. "Everything's good. It's good. He's good." He assured himself, the rocking starting up again. He continued to watch the door.

On the other side of the one-way mirror, Gideon snorted. "He's terrified."

"Of us?" the Captain was clueless on this kind of stuff.

"Of the Unsub." Hotch corrected, ever forgiving the treatment they'd gotten from Wright.

Morgan opened the door. "Garcia couldn't find much on this guy at all. No employment records, no tax records, no credit cards, no bank accounts. The van is registered to a paper corporation out of the Cayman Islands. Other than having a valid driver's license, Steven Foster has paper trail." They watched Steven rock nervously.

"My guess is he's devoted his entire life to helping the Unsub. Unsub takes care of everything for him. In return, Steven provides fresh victims." Gideon said, stroking his chin and studying the sweaty Steven.

"So how do you know there's another guy?" To the Captain, it looked like Steven was the man, case closed.

"Does he look like he could cleanly pull of more than 63 murders?" Wright nodded once, getting the point.

"So, it he's the accomplice, why is he so afraid of the guy?" Gideon brought back the attention to the case at hand, petty competition far from his mind.

"Steven's the only person in the world truly aware of what the Unsub is capable of." Morgan answered, crossing his arms.

"The only one still alive." Hotch tacked on.

"Sadism and torture invariably get worse with every victim." Gideon surmised, a grim look on his face.

"That's why this was so important. We couldn't take the chance that it wasn't happening." Hotch explained to Captain Wright.

McGee entered too; the room was starting to get full. "That's him?" he couldn't believe after all these months, he'd finally gotten the bastard killing everyone.

"He's not the Unsub." Hotch sent McGee's dreams down the drain in those four words.

"Well, then—then who is he?" he demanded, confused why they'd have him here in the first place.

"Only relationship the Unsub has left in the world." Gideon shut McGee up quickly- he had that effect on people.

"His only friend." Morgan added.

JJ peeped her head inside the room, asking "Did you want me to publicize the arrest, put some pressure on the Unsub?"

Hotch shook his head, eyes still on Steven. "No. He might run."

"Ok, so, uh how we gonna find him, then?" McGee asked exasperatedly—he didn't want to waste any more time.

"Steven's gonna tell us where he is." Hotch said calmly. He walked to the other room, where Steven had been waiting for about an hour.

Steven immediately jumped to his feet, anger making his arms tremble. "Well, finally! You took your damn time, didn't you? What the hell am I doin' here, anyways? I didn't do nothin'." Hotch raised his eyebrow at the double negative. "I mean, what's the charges? Do you even have any? What did I do, offer to help and old lady get a—get to a park? Is that even illegal? I don't think so. Should be getting some kind of award instead of sitting in here waiting for you to decide to talk to me." Hotch waited quietly for Steven to run out of steam. "I know, you're gonna charge me with that wreck, right, crashing into that fence? That was the other cop's fault, the black guy? He jumped into my van. He caused me to—it was his fault. It—it wasn't me. It was—there were witnesses you know." He was starting to lose it.

Hotch decided he'd had enough."Sit down." He growled. "I've been standing on the other side of the glass thinking about what to do with you, Steven. And this morning I decided to save your life. You're gonna tell me where my killer is. You're gonna give me an address, and you're gonna tell me how to get inside without raising an alarm. You're gonna draw me a map if I need one. And you're gonna do this because he's never been nice to you." Steven recoils, lowering his eyes to the ground. He constantly insults you and belittles you. He emasculates you and makes you feel ugly and stupid and worthless. Nothing you ever do is right; never good enough. You hate him, Steven. And you also gonna tell me because you know you screwed up last night. He told you that you paramount concern was not to attract the attention of the authorities and you know the punishment will be severe." Steven began to shake. Hotch knew he almost had him. "Nobody knows better than you what he can do to people. I've spent a long time studying monsters like your friend, and I can promise you he's gonna do things to you that even you can't imagine."

Steven's lower lip trembled like a child. "I can't. My family's always worked for his family. It's all I know. His father died last year and left everything to him, all the money all the… He's—he's the last one. He—he changed after that. He's different. He meaner. He's gonna hurt me so bad." Steven sobbed, burying his head into his hands.

"Not if we lock him up. Not if you tell us how we can put him away." Everyone held their breath, praying that Steven would succumb to his conscious.

"Holcombe." Steven choked out. "His—his name is Charles Holcombe. He owns the old meatpacking plant."

now you know who the creep is, we're almost done with this horrible story