Chapter 10
As he focused on the task in front of him, Morgan handed his service weapon to the uniformed cop seated outside the doorway leading to the interrogation rooms. But he kept a brown folder tucked under his arm. "I'm here to question the prisoner," he announced. "His name's Benjamin Yardley."
"Yes, sir. Detective Moeller called and said you were to be allowed to question the suspect. He's in interrogation room one."
"Thanks," Morgan announced while trying to calm himself before he met with Yardley. Every fiber of his being told him to turn off the cameras, and pound the man into the floor for what he had done to Hotch. But that wouldn't solve anything. Besides, Yardley hardly looked like someone who could be the Rohypnol rapist. But looks can be deceiving. Also, the agent was certain the man had something to offer in their investigation. He stood outside interrogation room one, and took in and let out a deep breath to calm himself.
"It's about fuckin' time somebody come talk to me!" Yardley shouted from his seat behind a metal table when the door opened. The only furniture in the entire room were a metal table and two chairs, one on each side of the table.
Morgan stood in front of the door studying the man for several seconds. Yardley's hands were shackled in front of him with the chain between the cuffs running through a loop attached to the table. Also, there were similar restraints attached to his ankles. The man's eyes were narrowed slits and focused on Morgan like laser beams. After a few more seconds, Morgan approached the table, and pulled out the chair. He sat down and lay the folder on the table in front of him.
Yardley snickered. "You gonna sit there and stare at me?" Morgan remained silent and continued to stare. Yardley smirked. "Tell you what. Why don't you send that hot-looking woman with the dark hair in here, and take off these cuffs? I'll show her how cooperative I can be."
Morgan's eyes hardened. "I suggest you watch your mouth when you speak about Agent Prentiss," he growled. He reached for the folder, opened it, and removed four black and white 8x10 close-up photos. He spread them on the table in front of the man. Then he pushed two photos closer.
"You recognize this?" asked Morgan, his eyes never leaving Yardley's face.
"Yeah. What about it?"
Morgan stabbed a forefinger on the other photo of the back of the timepiece which showed the engraving clearly. "See this inscription? It's the inscription Agent Hotchner had engraved on the back after his wife passed away to commemorate her birthday. Now I want you to tell me how this watch ended up in your possession?"
Yardley smirked as he stared at the agent. "I told you. My old lady bought it at a pawnshop. The engraving was already there."
Morgan's expression did not change. He maintained his glare. "You said pawnshop. Earlier in your apartment when we arrested you, you didn't remember where she supposedly bought it. Now you suddenly remember where."
Yardley grinned. He found this entire thing comical so far. "What can I say? I forgot my wife likes goin' to the pawnshop. Ya find a few good deals there."
"How about this?" Morgan shoved a photo of Hotch's cell towards the man. "Your wife buy that at the same pawnshop?"
"Probably."
Morgan really hated this obnoxious bastard. "You do realize this a Bureau issued Blackberry? All agents are issued this for business purposes."
"Don't know nothin' 'bout that. All I know is my wife bought it at a pawnshop."
"What's the name of this pawnshop?"
Yardley shrugged. "Don't remember," he replied sarcastically.
"Then let's try this one. How about you explain to me how your fingerprints were found on Agent Hotchner's wallet?" Morgan held up the fourth photo showing the wallet.
"I already told you I was checkin' 'im for ID. You're probably gonna find my prints on a lot of things."
"Yeah, well…funny you should say that. We did a little checking. Seems you are suspected of robbing several tenants in your building. The police are searching your apartment as we speak." Morgan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Now how much do you want to bet they find the stolen items belonging to your tenants in your apartment?" Yardley frowned and ground his lower jaw.
Yardley shifted in his chair and now glared at the agent seated across from him. "I ain't been found guilty of nothin'! And you can search all you want, but you ain't gonna find nothin' belongin' to nobody in my apartment cause I didn't steal nothin'!"
"I also found out you were accused of sexual assault on a woman who lives in a building near yours."
"That's a lie! I didn't assault nobody!"
"Y'know what I believe, Yardley? I believe you did assault that woman. And afterward you scared her into changing her mind instead of pressing charges."
"She changed her mind cause I didn't do nothin' to the woman, that's why. I'm married."
Morgan lay both hands flat on the table and sat straight in his chair. He patted the table. "Y'know what, Yardley? I'm wastin' my time with you."
"Told you," the janitor smirked. "If you ain't gonna bring that dark-haired woman in here, can I leave and go home?"
Morgan smirked and slowly got to his feet. He started to walk away, stopped, and faced Yardley. " 'Fraid not. We have you on possession of stolen merchandise. Assault of a federal agent. Sexual assault of said federal agent. And robbery of said agent. And once the locals finish tearing apart your apartment, I'm sure there will be other charges."
Yardley leaned over the table straining at his shackles. "I ain't no fag! I ain't into men like your agent!" He smirked. But the smirk quickly faded when Morgan's fist slammed down on the tabletop causing the man to jump in his chair.
"You watch your mouth!" the agent hissed. Yardley chuckled. But with less bravado.
"Why? You fancy 'im yourself? I bet you do. You got the hots for this guy. Damn shame. I bet that female agent could grow hair on that bald head of yours." He laughed when Morgan ground his jaw.
"You find all of this one big joke, don't you?" asked Morgan reigning in his emotions. "I wonder how funny you'll find it when you go to prison for rape, sexual assault, and robbery." He approached the table again, lay both palms flat, and brought his face real close to Yardley's. "And once you're in prison, I'm gonna make damn sure everybody there knows about your preference for men." He then stood up and waited.
"You wouldn't dare," Yardley declared. But Morgan could read the fear in the man.
"I would," Morgan assured him. "Unless you tell me what I want to know."
"I ain't no fag!"
Morgan shrugged. "Don't matter to me, because you're gonna go down for all of it. And I figure those inmates are gonna love getting their hands on you. They're gonna do to you everything you did to Agent Hotchner and worse." A smirk appeared on the agent's face. "Now a few inmates may congratulate you because he's a cop. But there will be those who have unpleasant thoughts about you. I can promise you that. Those are the ones I'd be worried about if I were you, Yardley. Especially when it's nighttime."
Yardley swallowed the growing lump in his throat as all thoughts of going to prison and labeled a homosexual flooded his brain. He had heard what happens to men in prison who were homosexuals, or suspected of being one. The thought terrified him. He watched Morgan turn and start walking away toward the door.
"Wait!" Yardley raised his voice. Morgan stopped in front of the door and turned his body halfway. Yardley let out a deep breath. "I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. But you can't tell anybody stuff like that."
"That depends," Morgan replied calmly. "Now, why don't you start by telling me what you saw or heard when you found Agent Hotchner unconscious in that alley."
Prentiss and Reid walked into Garcia's office to find her hard at work at one of her computers. She paused long enough to spin around in her chair when the door opened. Studying their faces, there was disgust on the face of one Emily Prentiss.
"What's with the long faces, my raven-haired beauty, and junior G-man?"
Prentiss fell onto the chair beside Garcia's, while Reid stood behind her but between her and Garcia, with arms crossed. Prentiss explained what she and Morgan had found when they spoke with Benjamin Yardley.
"You mean that sorry excuse for a human robbed my liege after he found him injured?" Garcia asked with angry eyes staring from behind her red eyeglass frames.
"Not only that," Prentiss added crossing her legs. "But there's a possibility he either sexually attacked Hotch, or was at least the partner."
Garcia's eyes widened. "Where is this bastard? He should be shot! Boiled in oil. Tarred and feathered. Drawn and quartered. Hung from the…"
Prentiss grinned and held up a hand interrupting the tech analyst. "Don't worry, Garcia. He's been turned over to the locals, and facing something much worse. Morgan is questioning him right now."
"Good," Garcia replied turning back to her keyboard and resumed typing. "If anybody can get the truth, it's my Chocolate God."
"Benjamin Yardley doesn't seem to fit the profile we had of the Rohypnol rapist," Reid interjected, looking thoughtful.
Prentiss looked up at him. "I admit he doesn't look like much, and hardly fits the image of what a rapist would be. But considering his record, what makes you say that?"
"Just what you said. He doesn't look the part."
Garcia stopped typing again and looked back at Reid. "You mean a rapist looks a certain way?"
"No, not at all." Reid became animated. "What I'm saying is we profiled the Rohypnol rapist as somebody agile and capable of overpowering a full grown adult male with seemingly little difficulty. From what I saw of Benjamin Yardley, he hardly looks likes someone who could overpower anybody, especially not a man. Not even one affected by Rohypnol."
"But he was accused of raping a woman," Prentiss pointed out quickly. "Could attacking Hotch be so difficult to fathom?"
"Not at all. But, and I don't mean anything when I say this. A woman can be overpowered by use of a gun or a knife. And although her attacker may be armed, a woman will often fight her attacker anyway. But nine times out of ten, she will comply because she hopes by doing so her attacker will not kill her afterward. But a man is different. Also, over 250,000 cases of rape, or attempted rape of a man, are recorded by police annually. In fact, one in ten rape victims are men, and only 9% of males are raped while ninety-one percent are women. And of that total, ninety-nine percent of rapists of men are other men, while twenty-two percent of rapists are someone the male victim knows."(1)
When he finished , he noticed Garcia and Prentiss both staring at him, mouths open.
"What?" Reid queried, confused.
"Just think, Em. He said all that without stopping to breath," Garcia teased.
Reid looked both puzzled and confused. "I don't get it," he said. "What does that mean? If you mean I was being long winded…"
"Forget it, Reid," Prentiss told him with a impassive face. "But despite the statistics, Hotch was under the effects of Rohypnol. And from what I know about the drug, it causes a person to have difficulty with their motor movements, have trouble standing, and appear drunk. And to somebody who didn't know him, Hotch would appear drunk."
"True. But keep in mind Rohypnol takes about thirty minutes for someone to feel the effects of the drug and the effects can last several hours. Hotch is a trained agent. During that thirty minutes, I believe he would have fought his attacker. At least until the drug's full effects took over and he fell under it's control." He looked from Emily to Garcia and back to Prentiss again. "During that time, do you really believe a man like Yardley could overpower Hotch even if he's drugged?"
"Maybe he's the partner?" asked Garcia.
"Anything's possible. But I don't believe he's anymore than someone who robbed Hotch of his cell phone, watch and any cash when he found him in that alley."
Now Garcia was confused. "Why do you say that, my adorable super genius?"
Reid crossed his arms and focused on the tech analyst. "It was something Morgan said after he arrested Yardley." His eyes shifted to the brunette woman. "Remember when he said he didn't think Yardley attacked Hotch, but that he might not be telling everything he knows?"
Emily's eyes lifted recalling the conversation. "Yeah, he did. In fact, as we took him outside in cuffs, Morgan said something else. He told me that Yardley was too much of a classic narcissist to have assaulted Hotch. But he was positive the man knows something."
"So where does that leave us?" asked a now depressed Garcia looking between her friends.
Prentiss shook her head. "Back at square one. Unless Yardley is somehow involved or can give us something." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of what was on the computer screen in front of them. She leaned forward to have a closer look. "Who's Darryl Wheaton?"
"Oh, Rossi called while you guys were gone. Darryl Wheaton is the name of an old college friend of Hotch's." The tech analyst turned back to her screens as Reid leaned over her shoulder while Prentiss rolled her chair closer. "Our Italian Stallion found out that he called our liege the evening of the attack. He asked Hotch to meet him at a bar called the Serendipity which, as you know, is not far from here. Rossi wants me to look up this Darryl Wheaton. Then check the surveillance system at the Serendipity to see if Hotch showed up with Wheaton or met him there."
"And did he?" asked Reid.
"Y'know, my genius, you should be glad I like you as much as I do. How dare you doubt me." Garcia rolled her chair a short way to another computer screen, and typed. Prentiss and Reid gathered around her. "Stand by to be amazed." Less than a minute later, the inside of the Serendipity appeared on the screen. Seconds later, Hotch could be seen walking inside the bar alone. Garcia pointed to him. "There's Hotch. And as you can see, he is completely alone. Now watch closely." The trio continued watching as Hotch looked around and made his way to the bar where he hugged a man. Both wore wide smiles. "I'm guessing that's Darryl Wheaton who was there waiting for him." The tape continued for a few minutes as Hotch ordered a drink. Several minutes later, the agent removed his cell phone and looked at it. He then walked away and left the bar. "He received a phone call, and left, leaving his friend and his drink at the bar. But pay attention to what happens next." As they did so, the bartender approached Wheaton and the two had a brief exchange. Then, the bartender discreetly poured something into Hotch's drink and walked away in full view of Wheaton.
"Looks like the bartender poured something into Hotch's drink," Reid remarked as his eyes narrowed. "That must be when Hotch was given the Rohypnol."
Moments later, the tape showed Hotch returning, and finishing his drink while talking to Wheaton.
"That means the bartender must be in on it also," Prentiss added.
"Exactamundo," Garcia said. "But that's not all." As more time elapsed, Hotch appeared to become unsteady. They saw Wheaton help lead Hotch out of the bar. Nobody seemed to come to Hotch's aid or even inquire. The tape ended after that.
Garcia began to rummage around her tabletop. "I got as much of a close-up of Wheaton and the bartender as I could. Which, you will see, isn't as much as I'd like to get." She found the photos of the two men, and handed one each to Reid and Emily who studied their photos before they exchanged them with each other.
"Is Rossi still at the hospital with Hotch?" Reid asked the tech analyst.
Garcia rolled her chair back to her original computer and resumed typing. "Nope. He said Mon Capitan's stupid Doctor Caswell let it slip out about the Rohypnol in front of Hotch. That led to our liege figuring out he had been raped. Rossi's demanded a replacement to care for Hotch."
"I would think so," Prentiss added disgustingly.
"Anyway, Hotch has no memory of what happened to him. And once the doctor let the cat out of the bag so to speak, Rossi told him the rest. But he did say after he dropped Detective Moeller at the precinct, he was coming back here. I promised to have this info for him when he gets back."
Prentiss got to her feet. "Then let's not waste time. C'mon, genius."
"Where are we going?" Reid asked as he followed Emily to the door.
"We are going to the Serendipity. We need to have a talk with that bartender." She tucked both photos inside her jacket. "Tell Rossi where we went," she said over her shoulder as she and Reid walked out the door.
Garcia waved a hand while not looking at them. "Stay safe my lovelies. Tootles." She faintly heard the door close as she was concentrating on what she had found on Darryl Wheaton.
(1) The statistics I had Reid give are from various web sites.