Chapter 14

It was nearly nine p.m. by the time the team returned to the police station after a long, depressing day. Not only had no anonymous fingerprints been found in the taxi, but Fennier's hadn't been either. The entire vehicle had been scrubbed down inside and out leaving nothing. A thorough search of Fennier's home also showed nothing of any use which only fueled the team's feelings of uselessness. Added to that was Garcia's report on the other drivers on the list Hotch gave her proved to be a waste of time. Weary and frustrated by the lack of progress, Hotch decided the team should call it a night, have dinner, and resume in the morning with fresh eyes.

"There's an all-night diner a few blocks from here," JJ said. "I've been told the food is pretty good there." Nobody disagreed with the blond's suggestion. Nor did anybody argue with Rossi's offer to buy dinner. Everybody started to pack up to leave; everybody that is except Hotch. When pressed by Morgan, the Unit Chief ordered them to go ahead and he'd see them in the morning.

A glance between Morgan and Rossi told Morgan the older man would handle things, and for the others to go ahead. He'd take care of Hotch and join them shortly. Morgan nodded and he, Reid, JJ and Prentiss left to wait outside in the cool late night air for the two men. Once alone, Rossi pulled out a chair and sat facing his best friend. He placed a hand on Hotch's arm. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hotch replied while he continued to stare at the envelope inside the evidence bag in his hand. There is a weariness in his eyes. To Rossi, Hotch looked as if he would collapse if he didn't take a break soon. He knew the younger man was in danger of suffering a meltdown if he kept pushing himself. And Rossi would make damn sure Hotch took time to relax, even if only for a few hours.

"You're not talking to a recruit fresh outta the academy, Aaron. We've known each other for over twenty years. I know when something's up with you."

"Leave it alone, Dave. I'm fine. Just tired. Go join the others for dinner. I'm sure they're probably waiting for you outside anyway." Hotch hoped Rossi would accept his explanation, but also knew his friend could be like a dog with a bone. He could tell the older man didn't believe a word he said, nor would he let the matter drop.

"Correction, they're outside waiting for us. I can tell you need to talk to somebody, and I'm here for you. Now give."

Hotch tossed the evidence bag on the table, rested an elbow on the edge, and rubbed his forehead with his hand. He turned his head toward Rossi. "It's this damn block lettering on the envelope addressed to Morgan. If I can only remember where I've seen it before, we would know who the Unsub is."

"You still can't remember?"

Hotch shook his head. "No. And I'm letting the team down because I can't remember." He let out a deep breath and hung his head.

Ross smiled, gripped Hotch's shoulder, and shook it gently. "You need to take a break, my friend. You're gonna burn yourself out otherwise. And a Unit Chief who falls asleep on the job is of no use to us or himself. You should follow your own advice to the team. Why don't you join us for a late dinner and then get some sleep. Besides, since we have no idea who on the team this guy might be after, we need to stick together. That applies to our Unit Chief as well, or did you think you were excluded from that order?"

Hotch smirked at Rossi. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

With a grin, Rossi looked at Hotch. "Not on your life. C'mon, we've got four hungry agents waiting outside for us. And you know how cranky the children get when they're hungry and sleepy. Especially Prentiss."

With a chuckle, Hotch let out another deep breath, knowing Rossi was right. He would be of no use to anybody in his current condition. And his team deserved a leader who was at his best. He got to his feet the same time as Rossi. The two men soon joined the others who still waited outside the precinct.

"We wondered when you two would show up," Prentiss smiled. "We're starved. And you know how cranky I get when I'm hungry."

Hotch and Rossi exchanged knowing smirks as everybody headed toward the two parked SUVs. But as Hotch climbed behind the wheel of one vehicle, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he felt someone's eyes on him. He paused and looked both ways, but didn't spot anybody. Rossi, sliding onto the front passenger seat, noticed Hotch's hesitation as he began buckling his seat belt.

"Aaron? Something wrong?" he asked. JJ, about to get into the back seat, paused and looked at her boss. The others outside the other SUV, stopped to listen.

Hotch, figuring his imagination was playing tricks on him due to being overtired, shook his head. "It's nothing," he said with a tired smile. "I'll be fine once I get a good night's sleep," and got behind the wheel, closing the door.

Rossi smiled in return. "Join the club," he added. Deep down, the older man knew his friend wasn't being truthful, but decided not to push him right now. Hotch would talk when ready.

But as the two SUVs pulled away from the curb, a man looked out from the alleyway beside the precinct. He wore a devious grin on his face as he watched the two vehicles head down the street. "I know you sense me watching you, Aaron," he said in a low voice. "The day after tomorrow, Aaron. Enjoy your last few hours of life."

Hotch admitted to himself he was glad Rossi convinced him to go with them to the diner. After awhile he completely forgot about somebody watching him, and chalked it up to his mind playing tricks on him. The food and service were excellent, and the atmosphere pleasant, as was the company. Hotch, Rossi and Morgan all chose a medium rare sirloin steak with baked potato with sour cream, and a vegetable. JJ and Prentiss both ordered a large chicken salad with oil and vinegar, and Reid ordered a burger platter. All had beer except Reid who ordered a club soda.

Rossi, out of the corner of his eye, saw the twinkle reappear in his friend's eyes and smiled to himself. Hotch was enjoying himself and relaxing as much as he allowed himself to relax without his son. Rossi also made sure nobody discussed any case or work related subjects while they ate, but allowed any topics he deemed acceptable. The older man was determined that Aaron Hotchner should have at least one night of relaxation. Not that they all couldn't use one; it was that Hotch needed it more.

By the time everybody returned to the hotel, it was near midnight. The agents headed to their rooms which were next to each other. As Hotch opened the door to his room, he glanced sideways at Rossi who had the room next to his. A small smile appeared. Rossi chose that moment to look at his friend. "What?" Rossi asked innocently.

"Thanks, Dave."

"Anytime, my friend. Anytime," Rossi replied with a smile of his own. "Go to bed. See you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Hotch entered his room and closed the door behind him. As he let out a deep breath, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. After removing his shoes and socks, and stripping down to his boxers and tee shirt, he crawled beneath the covers. He reached up, turned out the light on the night table, closed his eyes, and allowed the darkness to swallow him.

Unaware of how long he slept, Aaron Hotchner awoke only to find it still dark outside his bedroom window. He turned and glanced at his bedside clock, and groaned when he saw the time was 3:15am. As he wasn't going to get anymore sleep, he slowly sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and put his feet on the floor. He ran his hands down his face and forced himself up off the bed. He put on a pair of sweatpants and staggered into the bathroom. After washing his hands, Hotch walked into the kitchenette to prepare a pot of coffee.

Waiting for the coffee to be ready, Hotch returned to the living room. Turning on the television, he collapsed on the sofa, but didn't pay much attention to what was being reported. Instead, he found his mind wandering back to the blocked lettering he could not remember, and to feeling eyes on him when the team left the precinct. He couldn't totally dismiss the feeling, and learned over the years to trust his instinct as it saved his life more than once.

He continued to stare at the television screen until the sound of the coffeemaker told him the coffee was ready. After he got to his feet, he poured himself a cup of hot coffee, grabbed his briefcase laying on the coffee table, and removed five file folders. He spread them out on the table in front of him, grabbed one, lay it open on the sofa, and began reading. He hoped maybe he'd find something he missed the first time, but doubted it as he had read the files several times. But still, he was hopeful something would stand out to him as he took a sip of coffee.

His concentration had been so intense, he nearly missed hearing the knock on his door. Wondering who would be up at this hour, he put his coffee cup on the table, and got to his feet. He hurried into the bedroom, grabbed his weapon, and returned to the living room. He stood before the door and removed the safety, his finger on the trigger. After a glance through the peephole, a grin appeared and he put the safety back on before he opened the door to find Dave Rossi standing there.

"I thought you were awake," the older man remarked as Hotch stood aside to allow his friend to enter the room. "Couldn't sleep?"

Hotch knew it useless to lie to his friend. "How did you know?"

Rossi smirked. "You forget these walls are paper thin. You can hear everything in the next room. I heard you moving around and then the television." He saw the Glock in Hotch's hand. "You expecting company?"

Hotch grinned. "When somebody knocks on your door after three in the morning, it's better to be safe than sorry." He paused. "Want some coffee?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Hotch chuckled as he lay his weapon on the coffee table and walked into the kitchenette with Rossi following behind him.

"Did you make it?" The older man stood in the archway of the kitchenette and waited as Hotch poured a cup of coffee.

"Yep. Less than an hour ago. Why?" he asked handing Rossi the cup knowing the older man took his coffee the same way he did.

"Just checking," Rossi smirked and took a sip of the dark brew. "Thank God for instant coffee machines, Aaron. I've tasted your coffee when your coffee maker broke and you hadn't bought a new one yet. Thank heavens my life insurance premiums are up to date." He chuckled seeing Hotch's scowl. "Now, let's have another look at those files, shall we?"

Armitage lay awake in the warmth of his bed in the darkness of his bedroom with hands clasped behind his head. He wore a smile on his face.

Everything was now in place and ready for Hotchner's arrival tomorrow. He had rented a dark blue SUV using one of his aliases. He also made sure he had everything he would need inside to restrain his captive. It wouldn't do for the agent to be able to fight back after he kidnapped him. He also formulated a plan how to use the blond beauty to lure Hotchner out of the police precinct alone. And if the blond had to be killed in order for him to grab Hotchner, she would be considered collateral damage. It would be a shame if he needed to kill the woman. Just thinking about the blond woman caused a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach. And a stirring in his loins which he hadn't thought possible since his second wife, Sandra, and later, Clarissa Meadows.

Killing Sandra had been a necessity as she proved to be nothing more than a whore. She had slept with another man and then rubbed it in his face. But despite her cheating, he found a part of him still loved and wanted her back. But he also hated her for her betrayal and she needed to be punished. Tampering with her brake hose and making it appear natural wasn't difficult if one knows how to do it properly. Even after she was dead, he still loved her. But what he did had to be done; it was necessary. It was only after her death was he able to move on with his life.

Then he saw Clarissa Meadows, and his anger and hatred for Sandra was reborn. But both were tempered by the love he still had for the woman despite everything. He believed Clarissa was Sandra come back to him, and he took this as a chance to make things right between the two of them. The resemblance between the two was remarkable. But the girl was only fifteen and too young. So he continued to watch and stalk her. He had to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't stray as she originally had. Even after the order of protection was filed by her parents, he continued. He refused to let Sandra get away with her betrayal a second time.

And then she and her family left Reno without telling anybody. That made him extremely angry, and all he could think of was finding her and saving her before it was too late. But his hatred of Aaron Hotchner moved all thoughts of Clarissa to the back of his mind as he went about putting his plans for the agent into action. But first he needed to get out of town and away from the police surveillance. So in the dead of night, he managed to leave town right under the noses of the police and vanish.

Moving to Santa Barbara, California was the logical choice after he had managed to find out that was where the Meadows family had moved. But with thoughts of Aaron Hotchner still uppermost in his mind, he again pushed all thoughts of Clarissa to the back of his mind. Then he accidentally saw Clarissa Meadows on a date with a young man and his anger began to rear its head again. But all he could do right now was watch her, and wait until the time was right.

And when that time came, he killed the young woman as her being with men fueled his anger and hatred because to him, she was being unfaithful again. And she must be punished again. But when the time came to dispose of her body, he couldn't help but show tenderness. Afterall, a small part of him did still love her and couldn't treat her body like trash as he did the others.

But he believed the blond different from other women. He could tell just from the way she carried herself. She was a lady. His first two wives weren't as far as he was concerned. It was no small wonder he had to kill his first wife Ruthanne.(1) It had been a necessity. No, he could tell Jennifer Jareau was nothing like his first two wives. He secretly hoped he didn't have to kill her to lure Hotchner out of the precinct. After he dealt with Hotchner, perhaps he might grab Agent Jareau before he left town, take her with him, and make her his. He smiled liking the idea of having something pure in his life for once. And he would have fun breaking her spirit in the process. But in the end, if unable to, he would kill her like the others.

After several cups of coffee, Rossi tossed the last of the file folders on the coffee table and stretched his arms outward to alleviate his cramped muscles. He looked at Hotch who, facing him on the sofa, was leaning against the back with closed eyes. He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We're missing something, Dave," Hotch explained looking at the older man.

"I agree. But we've gone over and over these files for hours, Aaron. There's nothing in them that we don't already know."

Hotch let out a deep breath. The exhaustion on his friend's face was obvious to Rossi. "Don't you think I realize this? But I just can't shake this feeling I have."

"You still feel things are going to get worse before this case is closed?"

"More than before, Dave. We've been stymied at every turn by this Unsub. We have nothing. No, correction, we have very little."

"We at least have a suspect and a name now."

Hotch sighed. "A suspect whom we can't locate. Garcia hasn't been able to find anything on him since he left Reno, Nevada. No fingerprints of Brandt's in Fennier's cab. It's like the man has vanished into thin air and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit, Dave."

"Neither do I," Rossi sighed wearily. "Any more luck remembering where you saw that blocked lettering?"

Hotch shook his head. "None." He saw a subtle change in Rossi's expression. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't nothing me, Dave. If you have something to say then say it."

"Okay. But remember, you asked. Have you given any more thought to maybe using Morgan's suggestion from earlier?"

Hotch stared at his friend like he had lost his mind. "Absolutely not! I will not purposely endanger any member of my team to catch a killer." Rossi stared at him. "What are you looking at, Dave? Have I suddenly grown another head or something?"

Rossi's eyes narrowed as he studied his friend. "You're considering using yourself as bait, aren't you?"

Hotch feigned shock. "What? Where'd you get an idea like that from?"

"From your face. Aaron, don't try to kid me. I've known you for too long for you to be able to pull a fast one on me. You're seriously considering using yourself as bait to lure out Brandt. And don't try denying it."

"And what if I am?"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing you told Morgan when he suggested what you just did. Absolutely not. No way. Are you crazy?"

"Dave…"

"Aaron, you're my best friend and have been for twenty years. I can't afford to lose you. The team can't afford to lose you."

"And if Morgan is the true target, I can't lose him. I refuse to lose another member of this team on my watch. I already lost Gideon and then Elle. I won't add Morgan to that list."

Rossi thought he understood at last. Hotch still blamed himself for Gideon leaving, and for Elle's shooting of a serial rapist in cold blood and then leaving the BAU. True he didn't know Elle at all, the woman had left by the time he came out of retirement, but he had heard the story from Hotch. He believed his friend blamed himself for what happened with the young woman. By not seeing she was in trouble emotionally after she had been shot in her home during the Randal Garner incident.(2)

"Aaron, you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened with Gideon and Elle. The only thing using yourself as bait to lure a killer is going to possibly get you is killed. I won't let you sacrifice yourself."

Hotch arched an eyebrow. "Dave, I'm only considering it as a last resort. But I can promise you I will let you know when the time comes if there is no other option."

Little did Aaron Hotchner realize that in about twenty-four hours, that decision would be taken out of his hands.

(1) Background on Armitage's first marriage and the death of his wife is in Mistaken Identities written by me, HotchRocks.

(2) Elle being shot in her home is from the Fisher King, Pt. 1 is Season 1. Part 2 is Season 2.