Chapter 9
"Danica Mueller, aged 27 was pulled from the Panaqua river yesterday morning; she went missing from her place of work four days ago." stated JJ, a picture of the nude corpse up on the screen.
"Same m.o. as Mason Ezral's; skin missing, stabbed, and bludgeoned. Her body came loose from the weights tied around it and floated to the top of the river she was thrown in, his last victim he disposed of in that fashion wasn't found for over a week."
"He's never been sloppy in the disposal of his victims before…could this be a copycat?" asked Prentiss.
"Maybe Ezral wanted this one to be found." suggested Reid.
When the others looked at him curiously, he continued.
"If he wanted the body to be found, it could mean he wants us to know he's back in the game, that he's killing again." he paused hesitant to continue, the others realizing where his line of thinking was heading.
Rossi huffed softly. "Hotch is out there waiting for us to find him. We can't give up."
"No one is giving up, Rossi," Morgan said as he stood gathering his files, his mind on Hotch.
"We go to Panaqua, we find some evidence to lead us to Ezral and we get Hotch back. Wheels up in…" he paused gasping softly at what he was about to say. He shook his head quickly, not knowing why he would say that…that was Hotch's thing.
With a quick apology, he turned and strode from the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.
Rossi sighed, they needed Hotch back. He missed his friend and the team needed their leader; the cracks were beginning to show.
Things went sour pretty quickly. Hotch had been waiting in the motel room for Mason to return with the prostitute; sitting on the edge of the bed, he wondered why he felt so out of sorts.
Snap out of it!
According to his brother he should be taking pleasure in the hunt, pleasure in the thrill of the kill; he knew he had felt that thrill before, that he had blood on his hands…so what was his problem?
Annoyed with himself he stood, walking to the mirror on the dresser across from him.
His dark hair had grown long enough to tickle the back of his neck, a feeling he wasn't quite sure he was okay with; the beard he had been growing had been quickly squashed by his brother, who had called him a hobo redneck and had thrown a razor at him.
Stubble or nothing, brother. We ain't hicks.
Hotch rubbed his hand over the sides of his clean shaven face: the jeans and dark blue shirt he was wearing, were a little well worn, but comfortable; like the clothes his brother wore.
An image of him in a suit and tie flicked through his mind causing him to chuckle softly to himself as he turned away from his reflection and returned to the bed, sitting down on the edge and laying back closing his eyes.
"I worked the case, Daddy."
Hotch's eyes flew open as he gasped then pressed his palms against his eyes.
You're losing it...get a grip" he muttered after a moment, sitting back up. He looked around the seedy room that Mason had gotten for their "fun." Mason had noticed his questioning look as they pulled up to the motel.
"What?" he smiled, "We've done this before; sex, blood, the chance of getting caught...of people hearing…Brother, it's an awesome high."
Hotch's frustration over Mason having to constantly remind him about his life because of his continual lack of memory kept him quiet.
But could he really go through with this? He'd have to if he ever wanted to get back to his old self, if he ever wanted to get rid of the flicker of annoyance he saw in his brother's eyes whenever he looked at him.
The door suddenly opened and a smiling Mason slipped in with an unconscious woman over his shoulder.
"Miss me?" Mason grinned.
Hotch stood as his brother, moved quickly to the bed depositing the tied up woman with no modicum of care, throwing down a small plastic bag behind her.
"Watch her, I'm going to pull the van around back." He winked and closed the door behind him.
Hotch stared at the woman; she was medium build with average looks, dressed in a short tight fitting dress; her hair, brown.
Wait, brown?
"You're supposed to be blonde." he heard himself whisper.
He glanced over at the plastic bag on the bed, a small box protruding from it.
Blonde hair dye.
Why would..? Hotch was tired of feeling confused, when Mason got back they'd have to talk before anything happened.
He started to reach for the box of dye, when his eyes slid over the woman's face; she was awake, scared large gray eyes staring up at him.
Hotch froze, his hand hovering over her; then somewhere in between that moment of brown eyes and gray eyes meeting, he found himself suddenly starting to untie her binds.
"I'll get you out of here. Hold on...hold on." he whispered. He had almost loosened the binds around her wrists when the door suddenly opened, Mason stepping in and turning to close the door behind him.
The moment Mason turned back to the room, everyone froze, the woman and Hotch's eyes wide as they both turned to stared at Mason; the clenching of Mason's fist broke Hotch's frozen position and he held up a hand.
"Wait…" was all Hotch got out, before Mason barreled into him, knocking Hotch over the woman and slamming him into the wall on the other side of the bed, with a grunt they both fell to the floor arms and legs tangled within each other.
The woman sat up quickly getting out of the binds Hotch had loosened and quickly untied the binds around her ankles while the bed shook as the men on the ground knocked into it as they fought.
Once free, she slid quickly off the bed and ran to the door slamming it open as she ran out disappearing quickly into the dark of the night.
Mason who had maneuvered himself over Hotch, glanced over the side of the bed at the sound of the door slamming open.
The whore had escaped.
He had an arm pressed down against the agent's neck who had stopped moving and was gripping Mason's arm staring up at him.
Hotch had felt a surge of panic, he could barely breathe, Mason's muscular arm pressing against his throat; then suddenly he felt something deep inside him switch off and his grip relaxed on Mason's arm.
What was he doing? He ruined everything! He had disappointed his brother…
"Sorry...sorry Mason…sorry, I'm sorry..." he rasped.
He deserved this. He shouldn't have gone against him...Mason had been trying to help him…and…and…
Everything was all messed up.
Wheels up in thirty…
Stop...stop…
Hotch coughed out a sad laugh as Mason removed his arm from his neck then with a punch to the side of Hotch's head propelled him into darkness.
-TBC-