Chapter 3

In the end, life scars us all.

- C W Gortner

July 10, 2014

Hotch stood with the stack of pictures and started walking towards the kitchen. Rossi rose with him and asked, "Can I talk to you for a moment, Aaron?"

Hotch nodded and followed Rossi to his den.

"This is going to be a hell of a day, I'm sure. Embarrassing for all of us on some level, and devastating for Morgan and Prentiss. But, Hotch, don't dismiss the idea of Emily coming back just because of this," said Rossi.

"Dave, there are rules and they are there for a reason," said Hotch sternly.

"Those rules are in place because average people can't objectively work in the field together if they are involved. But if the timeline of those pictures is true, Morgan and Prentiss were effectively working in the field for years while being involved. Their work was some of the best, especially when they were partnered in the field together. Don't punish them for not being the average people those rules were designed for, Aaron."

"I'll think about it. Let's get started."

Hotch walked out of the den, Rossi following, and motioned to JJ and Reid in the dining room. He stood at the kitchen island and said, "Let me lay these out in date order before you look. I want first impressions, then we can start looking at details."

Hotch started blushing himself as he laid out the pictures. To say they were pornographic was an understatement. Collectively, little about Prentiss and Morgan's sex life was left to the imagination. Anger towards the bastard that had done this filled him and Hotch shook his head. His poor friends; they were going to be mortified when they found out.

"Ok, that's all of them. Take a look."

It only took a second for all of their faces to redden. Reid kept clearing his throat. None of this could ever be unseen.

"The unsub wanted to humiliate them," said JJ. "He must have taken thousands of pictures over the years, all of which could have conveyed the relationship, but he sent us the most graphic ones."

Rossi nodded, then JJ gasped. She lift up a photo dated October 1, 2011. It was a picture taken from a high side angle, Derek on top of Emily, hands linked above their heads, Em's legs wrapped around Derek's waist, her face towards the camera; she had clearly been crying. "This is my guest room. This was the night Rossi taught us to cook. Emily was staying with me for a couple of weeks until her apartment was ready and Derek showed up at my door late that night. This camera is inside my house!"

Reid picked up two pictures. "These are from inside Emily's old apartment, as well as many of the other ones."

Rossi pointed, "Derek's house. Most of these were taken from inside homes."

Hotch's mind worked frantically. "JJ, did anyone come into your home - a plumber, an electrician, anything – after Emily came back from Paris? She only stayed with you for a few weeks."

JJ thought and nodded, "Yes, we had the motion sensors on our alarm adjusted because they kept going off. That was right after Emily got there. Will was home when the company worked on the problem."

Hotch grimaced, "If our house alarms are the connection here, it could also be how he found out that Emily called me last week. We could all be under surveillance. JJ, call Will. Ask him what he remembers and see if he still has a receipt."

Hotch looked towards his other two profilers.

"Reid, Rossi? Any other thoughts?"

"They could make a killing in the porn industry," said Rossi. They all gave a nervous laugh and Penelope even joined in from the other room.

"There are very few pictures from when we were working cases, and they are all within driving distance from here." Reid pointed: "This was when we were in New York, the terrorist group. This was the night the ambulance blew up. It's taken from a distance, maybe from a building across the street. They probably weren't thinking about discretion that night, clearly." He cleared his throat.

"Only a few from cases, all of them in reasonable driving distance. This tells us he either doesn't have the money to fly or he was smart enough not to leave a trail like that for us to follow. Or that he didn't follow us." said Hotch.

Garcia piped up from the other room, "I don't think it's about money. You're talking about someone who likely installed some very expensive equipment in several homes, and who had the means to seemingly do nothing else with his life except follow someone for several years."

"Good point," said Hotch.

Rossi spoke up. "They tried to be discreet most of the time. We've had hundreds of cases in driving distance. There are only pictures here when the cases were particularly traumatizing or one of them was hurt or nearly killed." Rossi pointed to one of the only other non-sexual pictures. Derek and Emily were naked, his body wrapped around hers. You could clearly see the bandage on Emily's right arm. "After she was in the car accident," murmured Rossi.

Hotch nodded and turned towards the dining room. "Garcia, any luck on finding their address yet?"

"Almost there, sir," Garcia responded. "This is a small town rental company, but they use an online booking system for their guests and the security is surprisingly tight. I'll get in, though."

Rossi walked into the dining room and picked up his cell phone. He looked at Garcia's computer screen, found the phone number he was looking for, punched in the number and put the phone on speaker.

"Lake Mountain Realty. This is Jessica, how can I help you?"

"Jessica," Rossi said in a sad voice, "My name is Dave Prentiss. My sister, Emily Prentiss, is currently renting one of your vacation homes." He paused and inhaled shakily. "Jessica, there's been a terrible accident with our mother and I need to get in touch with Emily, but I lost the piece of paper with the information on the house she rented and I can't reach her on her cell phone."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. There's no cell service up at the house she rented, but there is a landline. We usually don't give out the number, but this is a different circumstance. Let me just look it up. Your sister sure is a sweetheart. She was just in yesterday afternoon picking up the keys. Ok, here's the number: 540-331-2785. I hope you reach her and I'm sorry about what's happening."

"Thank you, Jessica." Rossi ended the call and grinned at a very quiet Garcia. "I was doing investigative work long before computers and the Internet. Remember that sometimes you can keep it simple," he said with a wink.