Chapter 19

"Are you sure, Garcia?" asked a now frightened Rossi. His eyes fell on Morgan. He recalled how he and Morgan had rescued Hotch who had been left restrained on a bed barely conscious; left to die in a house fire. The three of them barely got out alive. And Hotch, having been disfigured and sexually molested, had endured weeks of terrible pain, and several surgeries, before he finally began to recover. The older man saw the fear on the face of the younger man at hearing the name. He saw Morgan remembered as well.

"Yes, sir. I'm sending the photos to your laptop as we speak. I also checked for any property under his name in Santa Barbara and surrounding areas, and found zilch."

"Good work, Garcia," Rossi said. "We'll keep you informed."

"You'd better. Garcia out." The photo of Jason Armitage, apparently several years old, appeared beside the photo of Ronald Brandt wearing sunglasses in a split screen. The team stared at the man they hated for what their Unit Chief had gone through because of him.

Reid's eyes narrowed. It had nearly broken Reid's heart having to watch his boss struggle to recover ten years ago after his rescue. Reid didn't know the meaning of anger as he had never been angry. But that changed after he saw first-hand what Armitage had done to Hotch. He still recalled word-for-word that 'goodbye' video Hotch had been forced to make telling each member of the team goodbye believing he would soon die. After that, Reid hated the bastard who had put Hotch, a man he respected and admired, through so much pain. "Jason Armitage hasn't been heard from in ten years," he hissed unable to conceal his anger knowing the same bastard was back. "Where's he been all this time?"

"Apparently planning his revenge against Hotch," Rossi said. "And he's had plenty of time to plan this. He had to learn how to duplicate cutting a body in half surgically, as well as finding the right murder case to duplicate. He obviously stalked the team and Hotch once we came here which he knew would happen because of the brutality of these crimes." He looked at Morgan again. "He even used the block lettering on the envelope he sent you directing us to him and we didn't see it. We walked right into his trap." Rossi shook his head in disgust.

"He knew we would concentrate protecting Morgan, and leave Hotch unprotected. He was counting on it," Prentiss explained.

"And now he's got Hotch," Morgan said sadly with a head shake.

Rossi stroked his beard. "Y'know, something just occurred to me. The fact that Armitage took Hotch could, in a way, be a blessing for us in a strange sort of way."

"How so?" asked Prentiss. "You've seen what he does to his victims."

"I know. But think about it. He's been after Hotch for awhile. If he intended to kill him right away, Hotch would be dead by now, and we would have found his body. Armitage would have made sure of it. But he's going to want Hotch to suffer first. So he's going to take his time with him before he kills him like the others. That could give us a little extra time in which to find him before it's too late."

"Maybe," said Morgan. "But I hate to imagine what he's doing to Hotch right now. I remember what he did to Hotch the last time. This time it's probably gonna be worse. It wouldn't surprise me if Hotch is probably suffering unbelievable torture while in this guy's hands. I don't see how that's a good thing."

"I never said it was, Morgan. I just said it might give us a little extra time in which to find Hotch before Armitage kills him."

"Wait a minute," Prentiss added. She snatched the sketch from the table, and looked from it to the image on the computer screen, and back to the sketch. She turned to the others. "This description JJ gave to the sketch artist might be our guy. She and I questioned this guy after the body of Anthony Barstow had been found near where he lived."

"You suspect it might have been Armitage?" asked Morgan.

"The man we questioned was a bit grayer around the temples, had a fuller face, and different color eyes," Prentiss explained. "But now that I can compare the two, this sketch could be Armitage. But that was not the name we had when JJ and I questioned him."

"What name was it?" asked Reid.

"Jason Armbrister."

Reid's eyes narrowed as he looked at the brunette woman. "But didn't you say at the time that Armbrister had proof he was in San Francisco visiting his ex-wife and children at the time of Barstow's murder?"

"From what I remember," Prentiss recalled. "And if he was in San Francisco, there's no way he killed Anthony Barstow." She paused as a frown appeared. "Then there's a possibility he might not be Jason Armitage, but just resemble him."

"Might Armitage have been wearing a disguise when you and JJ spoke with him?" asked Reid.

"It's possible," Prentiss replied. She looked at Rossi. "Does Armitage have any siblings?"

Rossi shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I recall."

Morgan pulled out his cell phone and dialed Garcia's number. He put the call on speaker.

"Yes, my chocolate love god, how can I be of help?" asked Garcia.

"You're on speaker. I need you to check out two names for me, mama. First, I need you to look up Jason Armitage and tell me everything you have on him." He heard her tapping on the keys as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Okay, I have the 411 on the why aren't you dead slime ball of the month. Jason Armitage was convicted over ten years ago for killing a man he believed killed his four-year-old son. The prosecuting attorney was Hotch."

"Believed, Garcia?" asked Reid. "So the man Armitage killed was never proven to be guilty?"

"No, my junior G-man. Apparently Armitage believed Hotch should have tried Randy Scofield for the death of his son, but Scofield was never charged or even arrested because there was no evidence. But Armitage took the law into his own hands, and killed Scofield, then accused Hotch of not doing his job by convicting him of murder instead of Scofield. He was sentenced to life without parole. Turns out later, the real killer, Bruce Wakens, age nineteen, was found and convicted, but by that time Armitage had escaped from prison and Hotch had joined the Bureau."

Reid looked at the others. "One would think Armitage would be grateful the real killer had been caught and convicted and turned himself in."

"But he did not do that," Garcia continued. "He still blamed Hotch for his conviction because he felt it was his conviction that led to his wife's death."

Rossi clasped his hands on top of the table. "Yeah, but, I remember Hotch telling me that Armitage killed his own wife. He then shot someone else in the face to make it appear a murder-suicide. The police said the murder-suicide was brought on by the death of their little boy. In reality, Armitage didn't want his wife to show he faked his own death as part of his plan to go after Hotch, so he killed her first. That was why nobody looked for him before he kidnapped Aaron the first time. He was believed to be dead."

"Score one for our resident Italian Stallion," Garcia added. "Who's the other scumbag of the month?"

"Baby girl, run a check on a Jason Armbrister," Morgan replied.

"Okay, Armbrister was divorced from his wife, Sharon, a year ago, and lost custody of both children. His ex-wife and kids now live in San Francisco. He has visitation once a week and every other weekend. The children also spend the summer with their father here in Santa Barbara"

"Garcia, do you have a photo of Armbrister?" asked Prentiss, a cold chill running down her spine.

"Sending one your waaaay…now." Everybody turned back toward the laptop computer with bated breath.

A photo of Jason Armbrister appeared on the screen.

"Oh my God," Prentiss said. "That is not the same man JJ and I interviewed. Not even close."

"Then that means the man calling himself Jason Armbrister was really Jason Armitage," said Reid, looking panicked for the first time. He was afraid what this revelation meant for Hotch. "Garcia, do you have an address for Armbrister?"

"Give me a hot minute," Garcia replied typing furiously.

"C'mon, sweetness," Morgan said. "Hotch may not have a minute."

"Watch your sexy mouth, hot stuff. I am faster than the speed of light. I just sent Armbrister's home address to your phones toot sweet. Now go save my liege."

The team all got to their feet, preparing to leave. Rossi stopped Reid by putting a hand on his chest. "Not you, Reid."

Reid glanced at the hand on his chest then looked at Rossi, eyes narrowed. "What? Why?"

"I know you want to be there for Hotch," Rossi explained. "But somebody needs to stay here with JJ. She might wake up and doesn't need to see nobody here that she knows. You understand me?"

Reid stuffed his hands in the pockets of his corduroy pants and sighed. He swallowed hard and nodded. "I understand," he said softly with a bowed head. The older man patted his shoulder and turned away. "Rossi?"

The older man stopped and turned toward the youngest agent. He looked at him in silent understanding. No words needed to be exchanged. "We'll save Hotch," he assured Reid. "You just take care of JJ. Make sure she stays here and knows we went to get Hotch." Reid nodded and watched the others quickly leave the room. He chewed his lower lip, and said a prayer the entire time for his boss and friend.

Armitage sat in his living room with a tumbler of Scotch in one hand. He was staring out the open window watching the approaching late evening. The lights in his living room were off, and the only light came from the motion lights he had installed outside the house. He took a sip of his drink, smirked, and shifted in his chair. Armitage would continue to torture Hotchner until he grew tired of it, and then kill him. He already decided he would not beat him about the head and face as he had the others. Didn't want to take the chance the man might die in his already weakened condition. No, he wanted Hotchner to be as conscious as possible when the time came to sever him at the waist. But he would use the carving knife first to do considerable more damage to the man before ending Hotchner's life. You will feel every cut, every slice. You will suffer pain the likes of which you have never suffered, Aaron. And I will enjoy each moment.

He could tell Aaron Hotchner was not doing well. The man was weakening and giving in to the pain.

"I will break you, Aaron," Armitage said to nobody. "I will break you, and you will beg for death before I'm finished with you." He took another drink. Despite having had what he considered an enjoyable day of torturing the agent, he wanted more. He wished he had been able to take the blond agent with him as well. If he had, right now she would be in his bed. And he would be thrusting into her core over and over until she begged him to stop. The things he would make her do; not to mention the things he would do to her. She was so beautiful.

A grin appeared as he continued to fantasize about the blond. He would have enjoyed making her his sex slave; her sole purpose to service him whenever he wanted. He took another drink of Scotch as his thoughts turned back to Hotchner. Anger appeared on his face. Him not having the blond in his bed was Hotchner's fault; all his fault. If the man had only died ten years ago, he could have kidnapped Jennifer Jareau instead. By now he would be screwing her instead of dealing with scum like Aaron Hotchner. The man must be made to pay for depriving him of Agent Jareau. A slow smile appeared as an idea came to mind. Armitage down the rest of his Scotch, sat the empty tumbler on the table beside the chair, and got to his feet.

Hotch, try as he might, was unable relax his body enough to fall asleep. He was in so much pain he was unable to get comfortable no matter what, and his sleeping positions were restricted. Add to that, the Heretics fork and being restrained by wire, didn't allow for any movement on his part. That alone made it uncomfortable to rest. Also, he was just so exhausted he figured sleep would come easily, but it didn't, and it really didn't surprise him. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was JJ laying in the alleyway, nearly unconscious, blond hair shrouding her face. Not knowing if she was dead or alive frightened him. JJ had a small child and a husband who loved her very much. Also, she was like a sister to Hotch as well as a dear friend. He swallowed hard and prayed that JJ was alive and unhurt, or at least was not hurt too badly. He couldn't handle it if she was, and would blame himself as Armitage was after him and she obviously got in the way.

So absorbed in his thoughts, Hotch barely caught the sound of a door opening. As he let out a deep breath, his eyes shifted, and he caught a glimpse of Armitage standing in the doorway staring at him. The dim light from the hallway behind him framed the man enough to show he was holding a pail. Hotch dreaded whatever was in the pail sensing it wasn't going to be pleasurable for him. As Armitage stepped into the room, he turned on the overhead lights. Hotch stared at the ceiling.

"What. Do. You. Want. Now?" Hotch asked, his voice tired. He didn't really expect an answer, and it hurt just to talk. He didn't move his head, but the sound of footsteps got closer, and Hotch knew Armitage had entered the room. But the only thing Hotch did hear was a sloshing sound. And if it was what he suspected, he swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He only hoped the man didn't activate that Tucker telephone again after dousing him with what he suspected was water in the pail. What Hotch worried about now was if his guess was correct, suffering hypothermia after being doused with cold water. He was chilly enough as it was. If scalding hot water, he worried about being burned. Neither possibility thrilled him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Armitage now stood beside the head of the table, pure hatred on the man's face.

"What do you…want from me…now," Hotch stammered.

Armitage smirked as he looked Hotch in the face. "Still feisty, I see, Aaron. I'm glad in a way. It will make what I'm about to do next that much more enjoyable. You need to pay for prohibiting me from having the lovely Agent Jareau."

Hotch's eyes shifted and he glared at the man with a stare he saved for suspects he interrogated. "You keep away from her," Hotch hissed. "Don't you touch her! Do whatever you want to me, but leave her alone!"

Armitage smirked. He lifted the pail and doused the agent with water. Hotch, his mouth filled with water, sputtered and coughed. Chuckling, Armitage sat the pail on the floor as Hotch's arms and legs began to twitch violently as his muscles jerked. His back arched causing his hips to push upward off the table. Hotch wept, his entire body began to twitch and jerk as if having a convulsion. Unable to stop it, his head moved from side-to-side shaking as the Heretics fork dug in more, but Hotch seemed oblivious to it. Armitage chuckled as he watched. He suspected the agent was having what might be a non-epileptic seizure.(1)

Hotch's pelvis thrusted upward, and his arms and legs continued to twitch. After several minutes, and without warning, Hotch's body suddenly went completely limp, fell back, and lay still.

Armitage pressed two fingers against Hotch's throat and checked for a pulse. He frowned. Afterward, he slid the pail out of the way with his foot and stared at Hotch. He sighed as he realized his fun was finished. Now was the time to dispose of Aaron Hotchner for good. He walked over to the smaller table, and picked up the machete and the carving knife.

(1) A non-epileptic seizure is caused by extreme mental trauma. Symptoms include a thrusting pelvis followed by headache, confusion, and exhaustion. Also, twitching in arms and legs and jerking muscles for more than two minutes.