Chapter 8: No Deal

Just like that, the line went dead.

"Grace?" Reid asked, "what's wrong?"

"He called me," Grace answered, "he called me and offered me the same deal my father made to Shaugnessy and Hotch."

"Foyet called me at my hotel room," Hotch said.

"Then, that means one thing," Rossi said, "he has it out for both of you."

"Which means the killer knows both of us," Grace realized, "how is that possible?" Just then, JJ came busting through the door.

"We got a major problem," JJ said, "neighbors noticed a foul smell coming from one of the adjacent houses. When the police got there, they found a man in a Hawaiian shirt dead." Grace's face went cold.

"No," Grace whispered, "no."

"Grace," Rossi said.

"I JUST SAW HIM!" Grace wailed.

"Grace, maybe you should stay here," Hotch offered, "the rest of us can go check it out."

"No," Grace said, " I need to see it for myself."

"People have an innate curiosity to see-"

"REID!" everyone yelled, "Now's not the time!"

"Sorry."

"It's him," Hotch stated solemnly, "Bo Foyet."

"No," Grace said, "no." If it wasn't for Hotch catching her, she would've fallen to the floor. She wept. There was her beloved uncle, taken away in a body bag. She wailed.

"BO!" she cried out. Hotch had to restrain her. When he was finally wheeled away, Grace said, "It was all my fault! I should've never been born and I should've taken the damn deal!" She ran out the door. Hotch could only look on. Just then, Rossi came out. Hotch sat on the front steps and put his face in his hand.

"I take it she's not taking it very well," Rossi noticed.

"Well, what do you think, Dave?" Hotch snapped, then added, "Sorry." Rossi nodded.

"She's right, you know," Hotch said, "it wasn't her fault. It was mine." He never thought he'd be grieving the death of a Foyet, but here he was. He figured he always grieved with his teammates.

"Hey," Rossi scolded, "we've been through this before, remember. It's not your fault, and it sure as hell isn't Grace's."

"But the deal...fate. I must be cursed."

"Hotch, he's just trying to get into your head. Just like the original did. Don't give this one the satisfaction. He's just trying to mess with you and all of us. Don't let him get to Grace either. She's been through enough."

"Dave, he was watching them!" Hotch exclaimed, "how else could he have known Grace was going to see him today?" He clenched his teeth in anger. Rossi's fist tightened up.

"He's trying to mess with them. He apparently gets off on psychological torture. This, in his mind is his revenge," Rossi said.

"Look," he continued, "if you wanna blame someone, blame Boston Reaper Number Two. Otherwise, let yourself off the hook. We had no way of knowing this was coming. Now, go talk to Grace. She's gonna need you a lot."

"Grace!" Hotch ran to the distraught woman, "whatever you may believe, this is not your fault."

"Hotch, I'm the Reaper's daughter! How can this not be my fault? I'm a Foyet! You should hate me!"

"But I don't," Hotch countered, "and neither does the team. Yes, you are Grace Foyet, but you beat him!" Hotch grabbed her shoulders and made her turn around to look at him, "You beat him. You rivaled Elle Greenaway in terms of sex crimes. You deserve to be here."

"But three people, including my uncle are dead because of me!"

"Grace, I believed the same thing for many years," Hotch said, "when George Foyet massacred ten people at a bus, I believed it was my fault for not taking the deal. I turned him down and immediately after that, he went and murdered them. But Rossi told me, it was HIS fault, not mine. He chose to murder those innocent people. This man—this monster chose to murder your uncle. You didn't kill anyone. He loved you very much. He's just trying to torment you psychologically."

"It's working, isn't it?" Grace sniffed.

"Only if you let it."

"He's clearly doing this to mess with us. But why? What did I ever do to him?" Hotch shook his head.

"I don't know. What I do know is this: You're going to need time to process this and grieve. Don't think I don't know. When Haley died, I blamed myself all the time. Don't let him get into your head." Suddenly, what was once sadness was now replaced with anger.

"Hotch, you hunted George Foyet for ten years," Grace growled, "this one's mine."

"I don't get it," JJ asked, "how did he know about Bo Foyet?"

"He obviously stalked you and Grace," Hotch said.

"But how could he have known we were gong to interview him?"

"The only people I told I was going to see him were you guys," Grace said.

"Then we've got to consider something disturbing," Rossi said, "the unsub is law enforcement."

"But all of Shaugnessy and O'Mara's former co-workers check out," Reid said, "and all the police today were on patrols."

"Who else would know all the details of Foyet's case?" Rossi asked.

"And who else would know I was interviewing Bo?" JJ asked.

"And the deal," Rossi added, "that was never made public."

"Someone no one would ever suspect," Hotch said with anger laced in his tone, "the unsub is an FBI agent."