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Hotch POV

A shrill buzzer blared out of 10 foot high speakers, attached to the somewhat bleak, ominous, and thoroughly frightening prison that stood before us. It told us that we were permitted entry to a prison only the damned were allowed into. "ADX" was a penitentiary that only housed the worst of the worst. The inmates here were the most dangerous, and were all male - so there was that underlying form of suppressed testosterone swarming sluggishly through every cell tower, teasing the senses. Rossi and I were only here to see one of these psychos, and I was already itching to get back home. The naturally coloured red and limestone brick walls contrasted sharply against each other, assaulting the eyes, as did the barbed wired gates, which had over twenty thousand volts of pure electricity running through it at any point of the day, terrifying the lowly inmates into following the orders given.

Every guard owned more than one semi automatic weapon on their person, and there were even rules exonerating the officers if an inmate lost his life. That was how intense some of the fights got, and that made me bristle with unease. This prison was dubious at best, and all I wanted to was to get this meeting, of sorts, over with. Rossi and I walked into a rectangular-shaped room, with an particularly thick pane of plastic-glass separating the two halves. There were 2 plastic chairs that were on one side of the sheet, of which we were told to sit in, and on the other side, there were 3 distinctly different men.

Two of them were guards. More or less identically dressed, heavily armed, unnaturally beefy in size and tall enough to intimidate and do their jobs. These men, who looked like they could physically tear another person limb from limb, were there to listen over the conversation that was about to take place. I truly didn't think that there were people that looked like that in the world, outside of steroid-addled wrestlers in television shows. The other male was the reason Rossi and I had travelled for the last 3 hours. I was surprised to see that he accepted our visitation, especially as he had no idea as to why we're here in the first place.

I took the seat opposite him first, and Rossi opted to stand behind me, acting every bit of the mobster we all knew he wanted to be. I laid down two folders in front of him and lined them up perfectly, purposefully drawing out the silence of the cell block room. There was an impatient, disgruntled groan on his side and he quickly quipped out, "I'm going to assume there is a reason that you're here. One that is beyond wasting my time, of course."

His accent was beyond thick, and almost indecipherable. My face remained stoic as I responded, "Yes, there is, as a matter of fact," and I flipped open the first manila folder, revealing Detective Lewis' profile and information beneath her picture, "This is your daughter, correct?"

He glanced down, and for a moment, his face contorted into one of guilt and regret before it smoothed out into an impassive expression and he enquired, "Yes, Charlotte, my daughter. What has she got to do with this?," he paused, momentarily, only to continue, "I havent seen her in years."

I nodded, dutifully, and answered, "Yes. Well, your daughter is missing. We're trying to find her."

He paused for a moment, and then all hell broke loose. Confusion, pain, aggression, anger, terror and finally rage settled in his features, and his fists clenched so hard, his knuckled bled white. His tone was scathing and bitingly aggressive when he spat out, "Which son of a bitch touched my little girl?!"

I felt a triumphant smirk work onto my face, and retorted, quickly, "That's what we are here to find out, Angelis."

He nodded his head in silent agreement, and replied, after reclining back into his seat, "Anything you need, you've got."

I guess this was going to be simpler than I thought.

I tapped the second folder and after flipping it open, I asked, "Take a look at this list, and tell us if any names stick out?"

He took one look at the list and, strangely enough, a vindictive, sadistic smile spread across his face, and he said, with a strong sense of confidence, "Edward Adams or Blake Tucker. They're the guys you're looking for."

I looked at him, questioningly, and enquired, "You're sure about that?"

He nodded, certain in himself, and said, "No doubt about it, Mister. It's one of them, I'm sure of it."

By the end of the discussion we had whittled down the list of possible unsubs from the previous 62 to a minute 10 names. Even though Angelis had given us the 2 names he thought were the most likely, we still needed to double check and cross-reference the list, as it could have been anyone of them. These were the most likely men who would have tried to avenge the deaths of their children - which was slightly unnerving considering, from what I would have thought would have been any sort of parent's point of view, if anyone were to hurt my child, I wouldn't know how to control myself. I don't even know if I'd even want to.

Some of them were too old or sick to do anything, others had either committed suicide, died of heartbreak or worked themselves bankrupt trying to find a way of avenging their lost ones' deaths. The majority of them settled with the compensation money they were given, and moved away from their home towns trying to shake away their old lives. Rossi and I were now sitting in the plane, on our way back to New York, and I could feel the initial shock of the get-together wearing off.

Rossi scoffed into the silence of the cabin, and asked, "I would have sworn he was close to begging us to find Lewis. I don't get it. How could an obvious psychopath feel so much remorse? They don't feel regret, that much is obvious. What was his deal?"

I shook my head, completely at a loss, "I have no clue why he was so eager to help, but he did, so let's move on and try and find this girl, before she ends up dead."

I requested a video feed between Garcia and I, and she readily accepted.

"Sir, how can I help you on this bright, shinin-"

Before she could get too side-tracked, I chipped in quickly, "Garcia, pull up the files on the 10 names I just sent you."

She caught on at once, and agreed, clicking away immediately, "On it, Sir."

Before she could switch the feed off, I threw in, "Get Reid, Morgan, Prentiss and JJ in doubles, and ask them to check out each name, like we normally do. Start with the most likely, which in my opinion would be either an Edward Adams or a Blake Tucker. They seemed to strike Christos in the wrong direction."

She understood, and swiftly sang out, "O-kay, I got it!"

And then promptly hung up. I glanced at Rossi and he was smiling to himself, probably thinking the same as I was. She was a crazy, gifted lady, who we were grateful we had around.

"Do you think we'll find her, Hotch?"

I looked him dead in his eyes, and replied, hastily, "I don't think. I know we'll find her, Rossi. We have to."