Chapter 11

Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid walked into the Serendipity to find it empty of patrons which wasn't surprising. It was still too early for them to be open. But there were people in the bar. They were setting things up for when the bar did open later. One of the men setting up chairs spotted them and looked up, annoyed at the interruption.

"We're closed," he said. "We'll be open later. Come back then."

"We're not here for the drinks and entertainment," Prentiss explained as she and Reid both held up their badges. "Agent Prentiss and Doctor Reid. We're with the FBI." As the agents put their credentials away, there was a noticeable silence falling on those closest to them. The man who had addressed them arched both eyebrows in surprise.

"FBI? No fooling." He put down the chair he held, and brushing his hands on his jeans, approached the agents. "I'm Tim Janacek, the owner. What can I do for the feds?"

Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out the photos. "We're not interested in you." She held up both pictures. "Do you know either of these men?"

The man took the photos from her and studied each one separately. "He doesn't look familiar to me," he said handing back Wheaton's photo.

"Are you sure?" asked the female agent again holding up Wheaton's photo. "He came to your club last night alone, and waited at the bar. He met a man who arrived later. They both remained at the bar."

"Lady, I don't know him as I just said. Sorry." Janacek then studied the other photo. "This is Todd. Todd Westlake." He handed the photo back to Prentiss. "He's one of our bartenders. He works here three nights a week. Sometimes more if we need him to fill in for someone." He crossed his arms across his chest. "Why? He in trouble or something?"

"Or something," Reid replied. "What can you tell us about him?"

Janacek shrugged his shoulders. "Nice guy. Works hard. No complaints. Why?"

"Was he scheduled to work last night?" asked Reid.

"Yeah, he was. Todd works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from six in the evening until midnight. And alternate weekends from six to ten. What's he done for you to ask me these questions?"

Prentiss held up Wheaton's photo again. "Take another look at the photo. Are you sure you've never seen Westlake in the company of this man?" She held up Wheaton's photo again.

"Positive."

"Is there anybody he's close to at work?" Reid asked. "Somebody he might confide in maybe?"

"No. Todd's a loner who keeps to himself at work. He does his job and leaves. Look, I don't feel comfortable talking about an employee. Why are you askin' me these questions?"

"One last question, Mr. Janacek. Can you give us Mr. Westlake's home address?" asked Prentiss.

Morgan sat across from Yardley with hands clasped on the table, waiting. His stare at the janitor never wavered.

"I'm waiting," Morgan said when be suspected the janitor was stalling.

Yardley glanced at the federal agent understanding he had no choice. He figured if he was going to admit anything, he might as well try and get something out of it for himself. He looked at Morgan. "What do I get outta this if I tell you?"

Morgan kept his impassive expression. "I'll tell the DA you cooperated."

"Before I tell you anything, I want the charges against me dropped. Or I don't tell you nothin'."

Morgan's eyes narrowed and his face went cold. "First off, you don't tell me what you want. Second, from where I sit, you don't have a hand to play. And finally, once I walk out that door, I will do what I promised. So don't play games with me, Yardley, because I am in no mood."

"All right. All right. Can't blame a guy for tryin'. Sheesh." He leaned his bulk back in the chair and stared the agent directly in the face. "I was takin' out the recylin'. There was this guy in the alley. Didn't know 'im. Kinda tall. He was leanin' over something near the trash cans. But he was talkin' to somebody else 'cause there was two voices. Never saw the other guy."

Morgan's eyebrows arched. "Could you understand what they were saying?"

Yardley shook his head. "I wasn't close enough to make out much. But the guy I noticed kept sayin' something like 'I'm sure he's dead. I'm sure he's dead' to the other guy."

"Anything else?"

"The one guy I spotted didn't say nothin' to me. But since there were two of 'em, I didn't want to get involved, so I went back inside with the recylin'. By the time I came out later, both guys were gone."

Morgan let out a deep breath. "Think you can describe him to a sketch artist?"

Again Yardley shook his head. "Sorry. All I can tell you is he was tall, kinda on the thin side but not skinny, y'know. He had light hair. That's about all I remember."

Morgan studied the man in front of him for several seconds. "Why didn't you find out what they were doing? I mean, weren't you at least curious why they were there?"

Yardley shrugged. "Two against one? Are you kiddin'? I mind my own business. I mean, they coulda been a couple of fags bangin' each other" He smirked. "Hell, since your agent was with 'em, it coulda been a threesome." His smirk disgusted Morgan. The agent fought hard to control his anger. He believed Yardley was lying. His guess? The man just didn't care.

"Let's back up a bit. When you took the trash out, you were attracted to the sound of somebody moaning in pain. When you went to investigate and found Agent Hotchner, why did you rob him of his personal effects first? And if he hadn't been and FBI agent, would you have even bothered calling the police?"

Yardley shrugged. "He had that nice watch and cell phone. I figured I can use 'em so I took 'em." He shifted in his seat. "I shoulda just took the damn watch and phone and left 'im there. Somebody would have found him eventually. I mean, I try to help and get arrested."

Morgan let out a deep breath through his nose, stood up, and silently walked out of the room. He spotted Detective Moeller standing outside the one-way mirror. It was clear he had been watching and listening to the interrogation.

"You heard?" the agent asked coming to a stop beside the detective. The two men looked through the mirror at Yardley still seated and restrained in his chair.

"Yeah, I did," Moeller replied with disgust. He looked at Morgan with hands on hips. "You believe 'im?"

Morgan crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Unfortunately I do. I mean, look at this guy. Does he seem like somebody who can carefully plan and carry out sexual assaults of several men?"

"Not really," Moeller replied. "But we both know looks can be deceiving when it comes to these animals."

"I know," answered Morgan. "But not this time."

Moeller looked at Morgan. "So what now?"

Morgan looked at Moeller. "Well, I'm gonna head back to the BAU and reconnect with my team. You have enough to hold Yardley. And I'm positive your detectives are gonna find evidence in his apartment connecting him to the robberies of several of his tenants." He held out his hand to the detective.

Moeller shook the extended hand. "I hope they have something useful. We'll handle Yardley from here. Keep me informed."

"You can count on it," Morgan assured him. Then with a final glance aimed at Yardley, Morgan turned and walked away.

JJ entered Garcia's office the same time as Dave Rossi. Garcia turned away from her screens and stared at both of them.

"Did you find anything on this Darryl Wheaton?" asked Rossi.

"Who's Darryl Wheaton?" asked a puzzled JJ.

"Old college friend of Hotch's," Rossi replied. "Asked for him to meet him at a bar called the Serendipity a few blocks from here." He suddenly glanced around the room. "Has Morgan called?"

"Yes, sir. He's on his way back from police headquarters. I think he got something out of that janitor he and Prentiss arrested."

Rossi nodded. "Speak of the devil, where are Reid and Prentiss?"

"They went to the Serendipity to speak with the bartender on duty the night Hotch was attacked." Garcia noticed the confusion on the faces of Rossi and JJ. "I'd better start at the beginning." She quickly repeated what had been found on the bar's surveillance system. Anger appeared on the older man's face.

"Anything on this Darryl Wheaton?"

"Yes, sir," Garcia rummaged around her desk and handed another photo of Wheaton to Rossi. "Darryl Wheaton attended Georgetown the same time as my liege. But as far as I can tell, he had no contact with Hotch until yesterday when he called mon Capitan to meet with him." She turned back to her monitors.

"Anything on where he's been since he disappeared after graduating?" asked JJ as she took the photo from Rossi and looked at it intently.

"Not a thing, sunshine. It's like he became the invisible man. Now you see him. Now you don't." She brought up Wheaton's history again.

"What about before he vanished?" asked Rossi standing behind Garcia's chair and looking over her shoulder at the screen. JJ sat on the edge of Garcia's desk at an angle so the screen was visible to her.

"What d'ya find, Garcia?" asked Rossi.

"Because of my miraculous capabilities, my Italian love-god, little Darryl was the son of Phyllis and Glen Wheaton, born in Kansas City, Kansas. Father was a construction worker who died in a fall from a ten-story building he was working on after suffering a massive heart attack. That left little Darryl to be raised by his mother. She got a job as a cocktail waitress at a sleazy bar where drinks weren't all they served to make ends meet. She was raped and murdered by a male patron who thought he should have gotten more for his money. He followed her home from work and broke into her home. Her son was home and slept through the attack. He didn't see or hear anything. He was then shuffled off to Virginia to live with his mom's sister, Wanda Scofield, until he turned eighteen, when he left to be on his own. He worked an assortment of jobs to help pay for school."

"Is Wanda still alive?" asked JJ.

"Sorry, but no. Wanda died over a year ago. Any who, Darryl was sole beneficiary of his mom's life insurance, and used that to pay for high school. He got himself a job in construction during the summer, and managed to save enough to pay for school supplies. His grades were good enough to earn him a scholarship to Georgetown to study law. That's when he met Hotch. And after graduation, he moved to Milwaukee and met Cynthia Hagan, a teacher in the local elementary school and they were married. They had a daughter, Alana. Oh…"

Rossi noticed the change in Garcia's voice. "What is it, kitten?"

"Cynthia died in childbirth. She hemorrhaged after giving birth and the doctors weren't able to save her. After his wife's death, he took a job as a paralegal to support himself and his daughter. He was doing really well until he suddenly quit and vanished off the face of the earth again. Until he showed up back here in Virginia yesterday, that is."

"Wait a minute," JJ interjected. "You said he moved to Milwaukee?"

Garcia looked up at the media liaison. "Uh huh. Isn't that where the Rohypnol rapist was?"

"Yes it was," Rossi interrupted. "Garcia, when did he move to Milwaukee?"

Garcia scanned her computer screen. "Uh…he moved there a week after graduating Georgetown."

"So he was in the area at the time of the attacks," JJ remarked looking directly at the older man.

"And the attacks in Milwaukee stopped around the time Wheaton left Milwaukee and moved to Virginia. And Wheaton was in Virginia when Hotch is attacked," Rossi added. "That's too much of a coincidence if you ask me."

"You think he could be the Rohypnol rapist, sir?" asked Garcia turning to face Rossi.

"Could be, Penelope. Could very well be."

"Sir, can I ask you something? Something that has nothing to do with this Darryl Wheaton sleazebag?"

"Of course, Penelope. What is it?"

"Did you get that stupid Doctor Caswell replaced as Hotch's doctor?"

"Let's put it this way, kitten. As of the end of business today, he will no longer be Hotch's physician."

"Good." Garcia said. She then bit her lower lip. "Sir, how did my liege react to the news?"

Rossi let out a deep breath. "Not well as you might imagine. Detective Moeller and I never got much of a chance to question Aaron before the roof caved in on 'im. He insisted both of us leave him alone. I'm going back later this evening to see if he'll talk to me."

"Sir, do you think it'll be all right if I go with you when you visit Hotch?"

Rossi thought for a few seconds, then stroked his goatee. "That's not a bad idea, kiddo. You just might be able to get through to Hotch if I can't."

Garcia smiled. "Does that mean yes?"

Rossi smiled. "When I go to visit Aaron later today, I'll make sure to come and get you so we can go together."

"Thank you, sir," the tech analyst replied with a wide smile and tears forming in her eyes.

It was at that moment the door to her office opened, and Morgan walked in, caught by surprise at the people inside already.

"What's going on here?" he asked curiously. "Something happen?"

"Did you get anything from Yardley?" asked Rossi. Everybody listened as Morgan repeated what the janitor had told him.

"Did the description he gave resemble this man?" JJ asked handing Morgan Wheaton's photo. The black agent studied the picture closely.

"Could be the guy," he said. "Then again, all Yardley gave me was tall with light hair." He looked back and forth between JJ and Rossi. "Who is he?"

"That's Darryl Wheaton," Rossi explained. "He's a college friend of Hotch's. He's the one who phoned him last evening, and asked him to meet him in the Serendipity."

"He also lived in Milwaukee at the time the attacks began," JJ added. "And those attacks stopped when he left. Then he miraculously shows up here in Virginia and Hotch is attacked. You do the math."

"Sounds like he could either be our guy, or the partner," Morgan stated looking at Rossi.

"Y'know…" Garcia remarked sadly looking at the black agent. "This scum is suppose to be Hotch's friend. How can he do this to him? It's gonna break mon Capitan's heart."

JJ and Morgan face Rossi, and find him as affected by Garcia's words as were they.

"Baby girl's right, Rossi," Morgan agreed. "This is gonna destroy Hotch when he finds out his college friend did this to him."

"I know," Rossi let out a deep breath. "That's why we have to be careful how we handle things. Hotch needs to be protected at all cost." He massaged his forehead. "Although I agree with Morgan. This is gonna destroy Aaron." The others agreed. He then looked at Garcia. "Penelope, do you have a current address for Darryl Wheaton?"

"Un momento, my Italian Stallion." Garcia furiously typed on her keyboard. It didn't take long for the information to appear on her screen. "I have it, Sir. He lives at 2616 Mayfern Avenue, Dumfries, Virginia."

"That's only about nine minutes from here," Rossi replied.

"We gonna pick 'im up, Rossi?" Morgan asked.

The older man grabbed the doorknob, and glanced back at Morgan. "For questioning at least. You comin'?"

Morgan smiled. "Thought you'd never ask, man."

"Be careful my loves," Garcia advised them.

"We intend to, mama," Morgan replied heading out the door behind the older man. "If Reid or Prentiss call, tell 'em where Rossi and I have gone." Not waiting for a response, he closed the door behind him.

"Will do," Garcia addressed the closed door, then exchanged looks with JJ.