Chapter 25

Darryl Wheaton had resigned himself to the fact he would be going to jail for the rest of his life. And if he was lucky, he might get a few years shaved off his sentence for helping the FBI. But more than that, there were two things he really wanted. One being Aaron Hotchner's forgiveness. But deep down, he believed that AM, or Hotch, as these agents called him, would probably never forgive him for his betrayal. The other being people searching for Alana and Diedre. He would go to jail happily for what he'd done, as long as his ten-year-old daughter and her babysitter were found alive and safe.

And even if Hotch didn't forgive him, he believed he would be sure Alana was placed with a good family and had a happy life. That was the most he could ask. So he was surprised when he was taken from his prison cell, and brought back to an interrogation room with no explanation given. After being restrained, an agent told him someone would be in soon to speak with him.

Wheaton let out a deep breath as his eyes scanned the faded paint on the walls. He wondered what had happened. Had they found Alana? Diedre? Had something gone wrong? His mind ran all types of scenarios when the door opened, and in walked Morgan whom he recognized from earlier. But the other agent, a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, he had never seen. But the cold stare of her bright blue eyes was unmistakable. This woman, he was sure, could snap him in two if she so desired. He suspected she was another member of Hotchner's team. The two agents sat in chairs opposite Wheaton.

"I'm Agent Jareau," said the blonde with no expression. "And you've already met Agent Morgan."

Wheaton nodded as he studied the expressions on their faces. Something's off here. He silently prayed it wasn't what he suspected.

"Did you…did you find Alana?" he asked nervously.

"No," Morgan replied. "But we did find the babysitter."

"Diedre? Is she all right? Is she hurt? Did she say where Alana is?"

"She's dead, Mr. Wheaton," Morgan explained with definite sorrow in his eyes. "We are so sorry."

Stunned but relieved at the same time, Wheaton bowed his head and exhaled deeply. Morgan and JJ watched Wheaton as he sobbed softly. After a short while, he lifted his head, his eyes red, swollen, and puffy.

"I'm sorry," he explained in a husky voice. "Diedre has been Alana's babysitter practically since my daughter was born. I relied on her a lot more after I became a single father. She was a good kid. Dependable, and I trusted her explicitly with Alana. Also, Alana loved Diedre and considered her an older sister." He swallowed the building lump in his throat. "How…how did she…what I mean is…"

"Cause-of-death could be blunt force trauma to the head, or ligature strangulation," Morgan explained. "We won't be certain until we get the Medical Examiner's report."

He tilted his head as he looked at both agents. "Is it wrong to be more relieved your own child's body hasn't been found, while someone else's child is dead?"

JJ thought of her own son, Henry. "There's no right or wrong answer, Mr. Wheaton. You have every right to be relieved Alana's body hasn't been found. That means there's still a chance she is alive. And that is what we are going on until we find proof she isn't. But at the same time, Diedre was a friend to you and your daughter. Of course you would mourn her death at the same time."

Wheaton sighed and nodded his head. "How's AM…I mean Hotch?"

Both agents observed the genuine concern in Darryl's eyes for their boss.

"He's not doing well right now," JJ explained to Wheaton. "We spoke with one of our other agents. He told Hotch what happened to him. He didn't take it well as you can imagine."

Wheaton hung his head and shook it. "Did your agent…did he tell AM about my part in what happened to him?" he asked without looking at anybody.

"He did."

"Oh God," Wheaton muttered. He raised his head. "I am so, so sorry for what I did to him." He bit his lower lip. "I…I realize I have no right to ask this especially after what I've done. But do you think it might be possible for me to…to visit him and…and to apologize in person. Tell him how sorry I am?"

"We'd have to ask Hotch if it's okay before we can allow that," Morgan added. "It'll be up to him. Just keep in mind that he might refuse. And even if he does agree to see you, you might not get the absolution you're seeking from him."

Wheaton nodded. "I understand, agent." He let out a deep breath. "Is there another reason you want to speak with me?"

"There is," JJ explained. "We'd like to do what we call a cognitive interview with you. What that is is an investigative technique which we use to get a person to recall information they may have originally forgotten."

"But…but I've already told you everything."

"You may think that…" JJ continued. "…but you'd be amazed at what you can remember this way. Now, we need you to relax, take a deep breath, and close your eyes."

Wheaton looked at both agents warily. He suspected after what he'd done to Agent Hotchner, they might be trying to trick him. And he had no intention of making things worse for himself…if that was even possible.

"We're not trying to trick you," JJ assured him as if reading his thoughts. She watched the man take in and let out a deep breath. "Now close your eyes." Darryl did as instructed. "Now just listen to our voices."

"Darryl, I want you to go back to when you went to the Columbus hotel," explained Morgan. "Tell us what happened when you met the man in apartment 631 about the job?"

(Flashback):

Wheaton stood outside the room as instructed at the Columbus hotel. Something didn't seem right to him, especially coming to a hotel room instead of meeting a prospective employer at their place of business. But at this stage, a single father with a young child, he needed a job. And even though this was not normal, he couldn't afford not to at least go and check it out. So, letting out a deep breath, he raised a hand and knocked on the door.

"It's open!" a man's voice called out from the other side of the door.

Darryl gripped the door handle, opened the door, and stepped inside the room. He closed the door behind him. With a glance around the room, even Darryl had to admit the furnishings, though worn, appeared to still be in relatively good condition.

"Mr. Wheaton?" asked the same voice.

"That's me. And you are…?" Wheaton paused as he spotted a man wearing a red rubber face mask of the devil. What the hell…?

"My name isn't important. Nor do I want my identity known as your life wouldn't be worth living if you found out. What is important is what I want you to do for me. And should you obey, you will be well paid for your services. And with a young child and no job, don't tell me you can't use the money."

Wheaton's common sense said he should turn around and leave, because this was just too weird. Why did this man conceal his face? Was there an ulterior motive that required this? Was this man a criminal? But despite all the many red flags, the need for money overshadowed his common sense.

"What is it you want me to do?"

The masked man turned his back to Wheaton, and walked to a small desk against the wall.

"Do you see that small vial on the coffee table in front of you?" he asked with his back turned, and while searching through the middle desk drawer.

"Yes."

"The vial has Rohypnol in it. I want you to take it, then set up and appointment with your good friend, FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner. You will have him meet you at a bar called the Serendipity. Once there, you will slip the drug into his drink. The results will take effect in about thirty minutes. After he is under its effects, you will then bring him to me. I will be waiting outside in a car waiting for both of you."

Wheaton's eyes widened. This guy, whoever he was, was crazy. There was no way he was going to drug someone.

"You're mistaking me for somebody else, I'm afraid. I don't know anybody named Aaron Hotchner." I hope he buys my lie. Sadly, the masked man abruptly turned away from the desk. His eyes glared at him.

"I suggest you not lie to me again, Mr. Wheaton. See, I know for a fact you and Agent Hotchner were good friends while both of you attended Georgetown. You lie to me again, and there will be consequences." The man was pointing a gun at his heart.

"I'm sorry," Wheaton replied nervously. "But I still refuse to drug an FBI agent for you. I may not be the smartest man in the world, but I know Rohypnol is a date rape drug. Why would you want a date rape drug given to Aaron anyway?"

The demonic laugh sent chills down Wheaton's spine.

"I believe you will change your mind once you see what I have. I need you to pick up that photo beside the vial." He gestured with the business end of the gun toward the photo beside the vial lying face-down on the table.

"Why?"

"Just pick it up and look at it."

Wheaton reached down nervously, picked it up, and turned it over to look at it. His heart dropped into his stomach. It was a photo of his ten-year-old daughter, Alana, and her babysitter, Diedre Stimson. Both were in a room somewhere. They were seated on the floor with collars around their necks, chains attached to the collars; the other end of the chains secured to the wall behind them. His hand covered his mouth as tears formed in his eyes.

"What…how…I don't understand. Alana's only ten. She and her babysitter never hurt anybody. Let them go. Please."

"Whether I hurt either of them depends largely on you, Darryl. I told you what I want. You will carry out my orders, or your pretty little daughter and her attractive babysitter will pay a heavy price. Also, should you still refuse, or try to double-cross me, your child will never reach eleven. Nor will pretty little Diedre see another sunrise."

"Wha…what do…what do you want me to do?" Wheaton felt he was suffocating.

"I told you. I want you to drug Aaron Hotchner and bring him to me. Oh, and there's two more things you will do for me unless you don't care about your daughter."

Wheaton closed his eyes fearing what was still to come. "What?" he asked shakily.

"After I'm done with Aaron, you are going to do the same thing to him that I did. Is that understood?"

"Yes. Wait. What…what are you going to do to him?" He had a sick sensation. He could feel the bile rising.

"Since you asked, I intend to have sex with your friend. And after I do, I intend to sodomize him."

"I am not going to rape and sodomize Aaron! And I won't let you do that to him either! You're crazy!"

"You can and you will," the man said as a click was heard indicating he had taken off the safety. "Or would you prefer I have sex with and sodomize your ten-year-old daughter, and then your babysitter instead? Or would you prefer I simply shoot you leaving your daughter an orphan, and totally at my disposal?"

"No! Please! Alana's only ten!"

"So what is your decision? Yes or no? I'm growing impatient."

"All right. All right. I'll do it."

"Excellent. And one last thing."

"What?" asked a broken Wheaton. He was going to be sick to his stomach. He realized he was agreeing to trade his friend's well-being for his child's. But he couldn't allow Alana or Diedre to be hurt. He prayed Aaron would understand.

"After you have sex and sodomize your friend, I want you to strangle him and make sure he's dead." He saw the man's stricken face and smirked. "Of course if you refuse, I can always…"

"I…I'll do what you ask. Just don't…don't hurt them. Please don't."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I have no interest in children or teens as a rule. But when one has an itch that needs to be scratched, one must be adaptable. But make no mistake, Darryl. If I can't have Agent Hotchner, your precious daughter will suffice. That's what I meant by adapting."

"But why? Why are you doing this to Aaron? What did he ever do to you?"

The man chuckled. "Because I find him attractive. Also, I want to feel his body writhing beneath mine as I pound into him. I need him! And you will bring him to me or else." That said, he bent over and picked up the vial and handed it to Wheaton who, somewhat numb by now, took it from the man in the mask. That's when he noticed the hand holding the vial…

(End of Flashback)

Wheaton's eyes flew open and he gasped at the memory he had completely forgotten until now.

"His hand!" he gasped. "I remember his right hand!"

"What about his right hand?" asked Morgan. Up until now, he and JJ had listened intently as the man recalled what happened from the time he walked into room 631 of the Columbus hotel.

"He had a scar or birthmark between the pinky and ring fingers on his right hand. It was somewhat dark in color. Might even have been a rash. I completely forgot about it."

"You said he told you to bring Hotch to his vehicle where he would be waiting for you," Morgan continued. "Can you describe the vehicle to me?"

"It was a Suburban...2009 or 2010. Silver. I don't know the license plate. Sorry."

"It's a start," Morgan replied. He glanced at JJ who hurried to her feet.

"I'll get Garcia to check with the DMV, as well as the medical histories for both Blackman and Hemminger," she said as she started to walk away.

"Wait a minute," Wheaton said. "Blackman? You mean Coral James Blackman?"

JJ and Morgan exchanged looks as the blonde returned to the table and stood beside Morgan.

"You know him?" asked Morgan, eyebrows knitted together and eyes narrowed.

"Not really well. Nobody did. I mean, he attended Georgetown the same time as me and Aaron, but he was a real bully to several underclassmen. Considered himself a real supreme alpha if you get my drift." He smirked. "Thought he was more of an alpha than AM. He even tried to bully Aaron at one time, but Aaron handed him a good, old-fashion, ass whooping."

"How so?" asked JJ as she leaned forward with palms flat on the table, staring at Wheaton. "Did he and Hotch get into an altercation?"

Wheaton snorted. "No. All he did was make him look ridiculous in front of his friends."

Morgan arched an eyebrow. "How did he do that?"

"Easy. I guess Aaron was profiling even back then. He had Blackman pegged left-to-right and profiled him in front of others. He exposed Blackman to be the phony that he was. Needless to say, from that moment on, the people he bullied began laughing at him, and were no longer afraid of him. He hated AM after that."

"Were there any other reasons he hated Hotch?" asked Morgan.

"Ummm hmm. Blackman tried to get into this Debating Society. AM discovered Blackman was trying to redeem his position as a big man by selling exam answers to students for money. He was expelled from Georgetown after that. Swore he'd get back at AM after that."

"And did he?" asked JJ. "Get back at Hotch?"

"Not after he was expelled. Nobody ever heard from him again after that." Realization suddenly dawned on him. "You believe he might be the man who…"

"We're not sure," JJ explained. "But we are trying to find him so we can question him. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

Wheaton shook his head. "As I said, he disappeared after he was expelled. Before I left town after graduation, nobody had heard or seen him. If he did this to AM and I knew where he was, I'd tell you. The son-of-a-bitch has my daughter and killed her babysitter."

"We don't know that for certain yet," Morgan advised him. "As Agent Jareau just said, we are trying to find him." He looked over at the blonde. "Contact Garcia," he said. "Then call Rossi and let him know."

"Right," JJ replied.

"You won't forget to find out if AM is willing to let me visit him so I can apologize, will you?"

"All we can do is ask him," Morgan explained. "But we can't make any promises that he'll see you. Or that you'll get what you want if he agrees."

Wheaton nodded as he watched Morgan stand up, and both agents walk toward the door. But Morgan paused after he gripped the door-handle. He turned and looked back at Wheaton.

"One last thing," he said. "You said this man told you he would pay you if you helped set up Hotch to be attacked."

"That's right."

"Then I have one last question to ask. How much did he pay you for your services afterward?"

Darryl sighed and looked the agent directly in the face.

"I refused his money, Agent Morgan. It was like I was pimping Aaron. Also, no amount of money can ever cause me to hate myself less for what I did to him."

Morgan mulled over the man's answer to his question. After a few seconds, he looked at Wheaton again.

"Thank you," was all he said.