Previous part of Boxed Set.
***
A/N: They showed the episode 'Penelope
It was late Tuesday afternoon and almost a day had passed since Hotchner's kidnapping when Garcia hurried to catch up with Reid and his bodyguards in a corridor on the BAU floor.
"Reid? Can I talk to you?" Garcia called.
Reid turned around when he heard her coming. "Sure."
"Alone." She looked meaningly at Lee and Jensen, who stood behind Reid. "Do you mind?"
"Sorry, miss," Lee said politely. "But Dr. Reid isn't going anywhere without us."
"Oh come on," Garcia said, but relented immediately. "Okay, fine." She looked around and went to open the closest door, which happened to be the copy room.
"See?" she said, making an encompassing gesture into the room. "No baddies hiding behind the extra toner. Okay?" She grabbed Reid by the arm and dragged him into the copy room, closing the door behind them, leaning against it for emphasis.
The smell of slightly burnt paper met Reid as he leaned against the copy machine and looked questioningly at Garcia.
"Reid, we have to do something," she started.
"About what?" Reid asked, wondering which of the many screwed up things that had Garcia upset at the moment.
"Is it just me, or are they shutting us out?" Garcia said, looking over her shoulder at the closed door.
Reid sighed. Ever since Dobson had threatened to pull him from the case he'd noticed how conversations stopped when he came into a room, how people came and went without him knowing where or why and how they reported to Dobson behind closed doors. He wasn't part of their team and they didn't trust him. He could understand that, but he didn't have to like it.
"Do you think they're telling us everything they know?" Garcia continued. "'Cause I don't, I think they're hiding things from us. Can they do that? Is it, you know, ethical?"
Reid squeezed his eyes together and rubbed his forehead with a thumb. "Yes, they can," he said. "Dobson has been sanctioned to lead the investigation so it's up to him who he does and doesn't want on his team and who should be privy to what information. It's not a BAU case anymore. It's antiterrorism's."
"But when Hotch-"
"Hotch is a SAC," Reid interrupted her. "He's Dobson's equal, so he deserved more consideration. Because that is what it was from Dobson's side. A courtesy. And since they think it's about terrorism there's a lot of hush hush added to it. They don't want to spread panic."
"But that's not fair," Garcia cried, before something he'd said caught up to her. "What? Wait… they think? You don't think it's about terrorism?"
"I don't know," Reid sighed. "It's all too confusing, too unorganized… I know it's all we've got to work with, but it doesn't make sense. I don't know what to think."
"But you would if you had all the information, wouldn't you?" Garcia said triumphantly, coming back to her original point. "They shouldn't be keeping things from us. Especially not you."
"Dobson's probably just worried that I won't be able to stay objective," Reid said, a little unsure of why he was defending the other man. "That I'll make emotionally based decisions and that I'll get too careless. You can't really fault him for that, because honestly? I'm not so sure I could stay objective right now. Everything is pointing to me being kidnapped next and I for one would be very happy if that can be avoided. I hate that Dobson's keeping me out of the loop, but I'm willing to go along with anything that'll help us get the others back. And as for you… well, Landon Jones is good, isn't he?"
"He's exceptional," Garcia admitted grouchily.
"And Dobson is used to working with him, so can you blame him for wanting to use him instead of you? We would choose you over any local computer analyst, so why wouldn't he do the same? And you have other things to do, right? Other cases for other teams?"
"Yeah, but it's not about that," Garcia said impatiently. "I just want to know what they know. And you know I can find out, right? I still say we deserve to know. What do you think we should do? Do you want me to hack their computers, tap their phones…?"
Reid laughed. "That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"
"I can do it, you know," she challenged him. "I can have all the information we want in just a couple of minutes."
Reid grimaced. It was tempting, very tempting. Being blacklisted was frustrating, not knowing was excruciating, but there were boundaries and he had to keep them.
"No, we can't," he said. "It's not right. We'll just have to trust them to tell us what we need to know."
Garcia looked ready to protest, but cut herself off. "Okay. But I don't like it."
"Neither do I," Reid confessed.
Garcia opened the door and they stepped out into the corridor again. Reid thought Lee and Jensen looked a little amused, but shrugged it off.
"We were going for a bite to eat," Reid said to Garcia. "In the cafeteria downstairs. Do you want to come?"
"No," she said, looking at his bodyguards with unfriendly eyes. "I've got work to do." She marched into her office and slammed the door shut behind her.
Reid winced at the dramatic gesture, but didn't say anything. He followed Lee and Jensen to the elevators. He wasn't really that hungry anymore.
The room felt crowded now, with the five of them in there. It was difficult to move around, because the space was limited and the chains kept tangling up in each other. Prentiss was reminded of playing jump rope as a child, although at times it was more like Twister when they had to climb over and under each other to untangle the knots on the chains.
A third cot had been put in the room, crowding it even further. JJ had, with all of their blessings, laid permanent claim to one of the cots. Even though her fever was going down she was lethargic and kept drifting in and out of sleep and when she was awake she complained of headaches and barely touched food or water. That meant that the rest of them had to share the other two cots. They took turns sleeping throughout the day. Most of the time they were just used as couches, but more often than not someone had to sit on the floor.
The chill Morgan had experienced his first few days here was gone now. Instead the room was getting uncomfortably hot and stuffy. The substandard ventilation was a poor substitute for fresh air. They were all in dire need of a shower and clean clothes, and Morgan wouldn't mind a shave either. The room smelled sour of unwashed people and the air was stale. The bags, wraps and containers of the numerous portions of hamburgers and fries they had eaten were shoved underneath the cots and spread the greasy smell of a fast-food restaurant garbage can. Privacy was non-existingand it was taking its toll on all of them as tempers ran short.
The tension was especially clear in Morgan, who had had to sit and helplessly and watch his team being taken through that hateful door one by one. It was becoming harder and harder for him not to punch whoever brought their food in the nose. But they always came armed and not even in this outraged state would Morgan put his companions at risk of being shot.
But most of all, he couldn't stand the sight of Henry Caswell. Not that Henry showed his face all that often.
Garcia was on his mind a lot too. He found himself going back to her over and over again, wondering how she was, whether or not Henry had hurt her. Or what else he might have done to her.
Had Henry broken it off with her yet, now that he had captured them? No, probably not, that would be suspicious. So what did he do? Continue like nothing had happened? Kept making dates? Take her home at night and hold her when she worried about them? That was the thought that really made Morgan gnash his teeth. The thought of Garcia turning to Henry for comfort for a crime Henry had committed.
And he dreaded the day Garcia found out the truth about Henry Caswell. Garcia wasn't as hardened as the rest of them, she still allowed a lot of emotions to surface when she viewed crime scene photos and heard the victims' stories. And when she found out that she had been an accomplice in their kidnappings, even though it was unwilling and unknowing, she would be guilt stricken. Morgan just hoped that Henry would be done with Garcia now that he'd gotten what he came for and that he wouldn't put her through anything else. No more surprises, please. If he had even a smidge of decency he would. But Morgan seriously doubted Henry's sense of decency.
If only he could get out of here so he could be there for Garcia when the house of cards came down and Henry showed his real face. He trusted Reid with a lot, his life even, but as emotional support to a heartbroken woman… Reid would try, of course, but this wasn't something you could learn from a book. Morgan just wanted to be there. And he wanted to beat the living daylight out of Henry Caswell.
Henry showed up at the office late that night. Garcia and Reid were in the bullpen by Reid's desk, not really doing anything, just waiting for something, anything, to happen. Henry snuck up from behind, put his arms around Garcia and kissed her on top of her head.
"Hi kitten," he purred, nuzzling her neck.
"What are you doing here?" Garcia asked surprised, leaning into him.
"It's late, honey. I've come to take you home."
"No, I can't possibly go," Garcia protested. "Hotch is missing too now. There's too much to do." Last night she'd worked through the night, so she hadn't seen Henry since he brought by the food yesterday afternoon.
"I'm sorry to hear that, but you don't look very busy," Henry pointed out.
"Dobson brought his own computer expert." Garcia's face flushed red in embarrassment. "He trusts him more than me, that's all. And Jones is good. I just- I mean, if they need some extra help or something."
"If they need you they can call," he said, pulling at her arm to get her to stand up and follow him. "You need a good night's sleep. I'm taking you home and putting you to bed."
"Since when have you putting me to bed been synonymous with a good nights sleep?" Garcia asked flirtatiously.
"Tonight it will be," Henry said, not taking the bait. "You looked tired yesterday, but that's nothing compared to today."
"I think it's a good idea," Reid interjected. "Believe me, I would if I could. Since Dobson doesn't actually let us do anything..." That wasn't completely true. Reid didn't want to leave, he wanted to be there if something happened, but he agreed with Henry that Garcia deserved her rest and where was a better place to get it than in the arms of someone who loved you?
"Too bad they won't let you," Garcia said sympathetically, nodding towards his security detail that was playing cards two desks away. Jensen had gone home to her husband and daughter when her shift was over, but Lee had gotten roped into a card game with the relief that he refused to abandon until he'd won back his losses, which, according to the ever decreasing pile of matches they were using as markers, could take awhile. Reid looked at them and sighed inwardly. The luring call of his own bed would have to wait.
"Yes, too bad, shame on us," Lee called heartily, having been listening in on their conversation. "But you're not going anywhere. We can tuck you in on the couch in Agent Gideon's room if you're tired."
Quantico was a big facility and it wouldn't have been difficult to find some proper quarters for Reid to spend the night in, as he had done with his team on the nights before. But ever since Reid had become the last man standing, he had had an anxiousness in his body that he couldn't shake and as a result he'd been reluctant to leave the center of events, so he had spent last night in Gideon's office. He wanted to be there if something happened. He wanted to be the first to know. Especially since they hadn't heard anything from the kidnappers since before Hotchner disappeared. And his body guards were happy to have him there, especially in a room with only one way in or out.
"Fine. But wake me up if something happens, okay? If they call or something…"
"Will do," Lee promised.
Reid rubbed his forehead. He had a headache. "You can go, though. I think you should," he said to Garcia.
"I'll get my things then." Garcia and Henry disappeared towards her office. A minute later Garcia came back into the bullpen. "I forgot my cell phone." She picked it up, but then she stopped, cocked her head and frowned as she looked at him. "You are going to get some sleep aren't you?"
Reid smiled at her and nodded. Smiling back she bent down and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Good. Good night, I'll see you tomorrow." And then she was off again. Not long after, Reid saw her and Henry heading for the elevators.
Reid opened his bottom desk drawer, rooting through it. Hadn't he left some aspirin in here? When he finally found the pills, it was in the top drawer and several minutes had passed. He debated how many pills he could safely take and then downed them with cold coffee. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and held them there a moment before he rubbed his eyes and looked up. For a moment black spots danced in front of his eyes before he shook his head and refocused his sight. God, he was tired.
"I'm going to try and get some sleep," he announced to his bodyguards. He put his cell phone and cell phone charger in his pockets, stood up and shuffled towards the stairs.
"Good night. The tuck in offer still stands," Lee teased. He leaned back on the chair, far enough for the chair legs to leave the floor as he twisted his neck to talk to Reid.
Reid valiantly tried to glare at Lee, but he was too tired and the muscles in his face didn't quite obey him. It ended up as a squint before he simply gave up. "Thanks," he said. "But I think I'll manage on my own."
The lights were still on in the round table room, he noticed. Dobson appeared to be burning the midnight oil. He could see shadows moving around behind the drawn blinds.
Gideon's door was unlocked. Reid turned on the lights and stepped through the doorway warily. He had been in here without Gideon before, although not often, and he knew Gideon wouldn't mind him borrowing it now, but somehow the room seemed so empty without him here. It was silent, reverent, waiting for its rightful owner to come back and possess it again.
He closed the blinds and looked around. There actually wasn't a couch in Gideon's room, though Lee hadn't known that. At least during the nights they gave him his privacy. There was one in Hotchner's office but Reid didn't feel as comfortable in there as he did in here. All that black leather felt cold and impersonal. Gideon's office with the worn, brown leather chairs felt warm and lived in. The large, red armchair in the corner was soft enough to spend a night in which he knew from last nights experience, at least if you pulled up another chair to prop up your feet on.
Reid plugged the charger into his cell phone and then put it on Gideon's desk and looked for an outlet for the charger. Gideon's reading glasses lay on the desk, next to an open text book. It looked like he'd be right back. Reid had to bite his lip as a sudden surge of anger welled up in him. This wasn't fair.
Reid ended up standing in front of Gideon's photos. All those people who had been saved. All those people who were alive because of the BAU's work. His mind suddenly fluttered to all the victims that would need them in the future. All the photos that deserved a place here. 'I hope you're okay, guys,' Reid thought, 'Cause I don't want to do this without you.'
***
It was Wednesday morning and Prentiss was staring morosely at her breakfast French fries. "I dreamt of carrot sticks last night," she said. "Carrot sticks and apples." She was sitting on the floor with her back to wall and her head tipped back as she regarded the single French fry she had clasped between her thumb and index finger.
"You're twisted," Morgan told her from the cot where he sat with JJ's feet in his lap. Hotchner and Gideon sat on the other cots.
"Am not," Prentiss defended herself. "I just can't wait to eat something that crunches when you chew it. Aren't you sick of this food?"
"Sure, but I don't dream of vegetables."
Hotchner rubbed his temples as he listened to the two of them. Prentiss and Morgan were driving him to the brink. Gideon was as always a pillar of patience and JJ was subdued by her injury and slept a lot. He himself was also well practiced in the art of waiting. But Morgan and Prentiss' sense of patience was of a more selective kind. They were both action people, problem solvers. They preferred to meet their problems and challenges head on. Sitting idly by, not being able to help themselves was grating on their nerves, which made them bicker excessively.
Things would've been different if they had been in a different sort of danger. If they'd been tied up, beaten or tortured, either for information or for sport. Then there would've been something for them to focus on, somewhere to direct their anger, something to act as an outlet for their energy.
As things were now, they still had a certain amount of freedom, three meals a day and running water. Now they were just waiting. Waiting for the next step, and that was what sat so wrong with Morgan and Prentiss. That was why they bickered so much. But just because Hotchner understood this didn't mean he had the patience to listen to it any longer.
"There's lettuce on the burger," Morgan offered.
"Yeah, it's not exactly crisp though, is it?" Prentiss said sarcastically.
Hotchner exploded. "Enough already!"
Prentiss and Morgan quieted and looked surprised at him. "Enough already," he said again, but softer.
Suddenly there was giggle from JJ. She had curled up in a fetal position on the cot, with one hand crammed under the pillow and the other one wedged between her knees and now she was giggling and moved her hand up to press against her head as she couldn't stop giggling even though it hurt.
The others stared surprised at her. They'd barely been able to make contact with her for days and now she was laughing? Slowly Morgan too broke out in a grin that turned into a laugh. Prentiss was next to follow.
"Sorry," she apologized to Hotchner between sniggers. "We're behaving like five year olds."
Hotchner waved her apology away with a smile. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.
Shortly after seven thirty Reid stumbled bleary eyed out of Gideon's office, disappointed that there hadn't been any news worth waking him up over during the night. His two man entourage took him to a gym locker room so he could shower, shave and change his clothes. Reid had actually slept pretty well during the night, being exhausted had helped. But a short arm chair and a long body inevitably led to stiffness and sore muscles, so the shower was welcome.
Afterwards they went down to the in-house cafeteria where Reid picked his way through some scrambled eggs and French toast, downing it all with several cups of coffee.
Then they went back up to the bullpen, Reid's hand still curled around a warm coffee cup… and his world was turned upside down yet again.
"Reid!" Garcia sounded utterly distraught. "Reid! Help me!"
She was standing in between two agents who both had a firm grip around her arms. Arms that were cuffed behind her back.
Reid's mouth dropped open and Jensen grabbed the coffee cup out of his hands before he dropped it.
"Wh- what are you doing?" He looked around for Dobson, instinctually knowing that he was somehow responsible for this. Finding him he strode over angrily.
"Dobson, what's going on? What are you doing?"
Dobson didn't quite look at him. "My job. Garcia is an accomplice in the kidnapping of your team."
Reid just gaped for a moment before finding his tongue again. "That's- that's preposterous. Have you lost your mind? Release her, now."
"No Doc, that's not going to happen," Dobson said, waving to the agents to take Garcia away. "We've got plenty of evidence to corroborate our suspicions. Garcia has a hand in this. She's the link we need to get Hotchner and the others back."
"No." Reid shook his head, took a few steps back and turned around, walking purposely towards Garcia. "No, you're wrong," he called over his shoulder. He reached out and took one of Garcia's arms, pulling her away from one of the agents.
"Let her go," he said angrily, but in a second Lee and Jensen were there, taking a hold of him and pulling him away, ignoring his struggles. "No, stop it, let me go, let her go. Dobson, stop this!"
Dobson nodded to the two agents to get Garcia out of there and they started frog marching her towards the elevators again while Reid helplessly watched, trying to pull free from Lee's arm locked around his chest. He wanted to run after her, tell her that he would fix everything, that everything would be all right. But he didn't know if he could fix anything right now, he didn't know if anything would ever be all right again. He just didn't know.
"No, stop it. You're making a mistake. I haven't done anything," Garcia pleaded with her guards. "Reid! Help me! So something! Call Henry!"
Reid continued to struggle against the grip that held him until Dobson stepped in front of him.
"You're really pushing it right now, Doc. Is it too much for me to expect a little cooperation from you? Your entire team has been taken, for god's sake!"
"Yes, I know," Reid shot back hotly. "I just watched you take the last one."
The elevator doors closed, leaving Reid with the vision of Garcia's scared face burned into his mind. The bullpen was utterly silent, the regular staff there was shocked, not knowing what to believe.
As soon as the elevator doors were closed, Lee let go of Reid, who immediately turned his accusing and angry eyes on Dobson. "I want to know what's going on and I want to know now. No more secrets. We're talking about my team here."
"Follow me." Dobson said, heading off towards the round table room. He'd expected this and had set up a special briefing for Reid.
Landon Jones sat by the table with his laptop in front of him when they came in.
"Sit down, Doc," Dobson said as he popped a nicotine gum out of a blister pack.
Reid didn't.
Dobson shrugged, showing that he understood the gesture, but didn't care.
"It seems like your girl's been keeping secrets from you."
Reid swallowed the protest that Garcia wasn't hisgirl to see where Dobson was heading. Instead he said, "Everyone has secrets."
"True," Dobson agreed, "But some are worse than others. And that…" he pointed to the picture of Donnie Nelson hanging on a white board. "That's Garcia's cousin."
Reid could feel the surprise showing on his face and his crossed arms sank down to hang at his sides. "That's… I… What?"
"Flesh and blood relative. Funny how she forgot to tell you that when the first ransom demand came, isn't it? And funny how she's been neglecting to tell you ever since, huh?" Dobson sounded rather spiteful.
Reid shook his head, regaining his composure. "That doesn't prove anything. She can't help who she's related to. And you can't put people in jail just for being related to a terrorist."
"We've got more," Dobson said, looking pleased with himself. "Jones has spent the better part of the night searching Garcia's computers. Go on, Jones, show him what you've found."
Reid looked at Jones, frowning. "What were you doing on her computers?" Even though the BAU did the same to their suspects and victims all the time, he felt like it was an enormous invasion of Garcia's privacy. She was her computers in a way Reid couldn't quite understand.
"He was searching them on my orders," Dobson said. "And a good thing it was too."
With an apologetic smile, Jones handed Reid a folder. Reid took it, looking warily at Dobson as he opened it. The content sent him fumbling blindly for a chair and he sat down heavily.
It was photos, blown-up photos of his team and it didn't take a genius to figure out that they had been taken by the kidnappers. Reid spread them out on the table in front of him, his eyes darting from one to the other. Pictures were supposed to say more than a thousand words, but right now they weren't saying the right words. They didn't tell him if his teammates were breathing or not. They didn't tell him where they were. They didn't tell him if they were okay. In fact, they told him the opposite.
JJ looked the worst. Blood covered her pale face and had run down, soaking her pink blouse. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open and he fervently hoped she was just unconscious. She had a grotesque lump on her forehead where clotted blood stuck her hair together in stiff clumps.
Prentiss, Gideon and Hotchner were all blindfolded. Prentiss looked unhurt while Hotchner had dried blood around his nose. Gideon's face was peppered with tiny cuts and scrapes and his jaw was set in a way very familiar to Reid. That meant that he, at least, was alive and awake underneath the blindfold.
Morgan's photo was a little different. He was lying on his stomach, his arms bound behind his back, but without a blindfold. His eyes were closed, his face slack. The skin around the eye that was showing was puffy and discolored and a big, bloody lump protruded from the back of his head, a rivulet of blood trailing down his neck.
Pushing the faces of his teammates aside, Reid tried to look professionally at the pictures. What else could they tell him? Was there any clue as to where the team was being held? They were all lying on a concrete floor. As far as Reid could tell it was the same one. Did that mean that they were all together? He hoped so, that would simplify a potential rescue. The photos were clean of any other identifiable objects, except for JJ's. In one corner above her head a heavy-linked chain trailed across the floor. Reid didn't want to know what that was used for.
On Prentiss' photo, the tip of a scuffed steel toed boot showed, but that didn't give him any clues either, other than convince him that Prentiss was alive too, or had been when the photo was taken. Otherwise there wouldn't have been any reason to hold her down.
"You found these on Garcia's computer?" he asked, slightly dazed.
"Yes," Jones said.
"Could you determine where they were sent from?" Reid asked, a sliver of hope that they could be traced back to an IP address, preferably one belonging to a computer stationed at the hiding place where his team was kept.
Jones shook his head. "They weren't sent from anywhere. They were probably uploaded from an external memory card or portable disc on two different occasions. Morgan and Prentiss' photos last Saturday, and the rest yesterday. They were all in a hidden, password protected, encrypted file together with information about your team."
"What kind of information?" Reid asked flatly.
Jones looked at Dobson who gave him a go-ahead gesture. "Information like addresses, living arrangements, family situation, interests outside work, habits…"
"In other words," Dobson said. "Everything you need to put together a couple of nice little kidnapping plans."
"All in all," Jones said. "The file has been updated about once a week for the last three months. We think that's when they started planning this."
"They who?" Reid asked bewildered.
"Garcia and the HBM," Dobson said. "Face it, Doc. She's been selling you out, and getting good money for it too. She's getting 50 grand for every kidnapping."
"What?" Reid looked quickly up at him. "What money? What are you talking about?"
"We've taken a look at her bank account," Dobson said. "Two hours after Morgan disappeared 50.000 dollars mysteriously appeared on the account. Same thing happened after Prentiss was kidnapped. On Sunday night, another 100.000 and then the day before yesterday, the 50 grand for Hotchner. I'm guessing there's 50.000 dollars earmarked for your kidnapping somewhere too. All this money has been traced back to the HBM's account. That's when we first started suspecting Garcia, when during our investigations of HBM's finances we found that they were depositing money onto her account."
"So do you think she's doing it for the money or out of loyalty for her cousin?" Reid asked cynically. "Garcia's not stupid. She wouldn't accept money that was so easily traceable."
"You can't still believe she's innocent?" Dobson asked incredulously.
"Someone else could've put that information there," Reid said feebly, working more on a gut feeling than any real arguments.
"Who? Who do you know that has access to her computers, Doc?"
Reid kept silent. In truth he knew that there was no one. Garcia was meticulous about computer security, especially since the Sir Kneighf debacle. Everything was protected and no one was allowed near the computers without her present. She always locked the room when she wasn't there.
"That's what I thought," Dobson said.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Reid asked weakly. "How could you not have told me about this?"
"And have you warn her beforehand?" Dobson shook his head. "I don't think so, Doc."
"But, Garcia's worked her since long before Nelson went to prison," Reid tried to argue.
"I'm not saying that she wasn't genuine at a time. But people change." Dobson's demeanor suddenly changed and he sat down opposite Reid. "Listen, Doc," he said sounding almost sympathetic. "I know this is hard for you. It would be for anyone. And I understand your loyalty to Garcia, I really do. It's always a sad thing when one of your own turns dirty. But if you want your team back you need to move beyond that and face the facts."
"But she's always been loyal to us, to the bureau." Reid looked at Dobson, searching for a hint that Dobson didn't want to believe this either, but he didn't find it.
"And yet Lee and Jensen heard her threatening to hack into our computers just yesterday," Dobson said.
Reid's eyes widened. "They- they heard that? But that doesn't mean anything, she was just frustrated, blowing off steam."
"She was plotting to hack into our computers!" Dobson said angrily. "She was going to compromise the computers of federal agents in order to find out information about an ongoing investigation that she was unauthorized for. And you knew and didn't tell me."
But Reid steadfastly shook his head. "There was nothing to tell! It was just a joke. Garcia didn't do this. She didn't ask anyone else to do it either, she would never condone it and she would never, ever kidnap any of her friends. I refuse to believe it. I'll never believe it."
Dobson stood up with such force that he sent his chair clattering on the floor. "Then you are of no more use to me. You're to stay here at the office at all times, but you're no longer a part of this investigation. Please leave this room."
Reid was shocked. "No! No, you can't do that. You have to let me-"
"No. If you don't want to help me find your team, then there's nothing for you here." Dobson grabbed Reid's arm and started pushing him out of the room.
Reid blanched. "Not want to help… But…"
But Dobson had shut him out. He was staring at a closed door.
***
Reid was bored. It was a strange sensation, to be bored and almost panic stricken at the same time. He supposed this was what it felt like to be grounded. His mother had rarely been mentally present enough to dole out such punishments, and he had never committed any atrocities worthy of such actions in his youth, so this was the closest he'd ever come.
But he was bored. Not being allowed to do anything while time ticked away and his team was still missing was making him desperate. He contemplated whether he should pull up a solitaire game on his computer or go and try to talk, or rather yell, some sense into Dobson again. Reluctantly he chose the solitaire option. He was more likely to win at that anyway.
"Are you hungry?"
He looked up and saw Jensen standing by his desk, a tangerine and an apple in her hands.
"A little," he admitted and chose the tangerine. Jensen sat down next to him. She was probably bored too, he reflected. Playing body guard to someone who was barely allowed to leave his deckchair was probably about as exciting as watching paint dry. The smell of citrus stung his nostrils as his nails pierced the resistant peel of the tangerine and he wrinkled his nose as a few drops of juice squirted onto his face. He wiped them off with the back of his hand and continued peeling.
"I'm going to visit Garcia this afternoon," he told Jensen, at the very last moment changing it to a statement instead of asking for permission.
Jensen almost laughed at him. "No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"Dobson won't allow it," Jensen said.
"I'm not under arrest," Reid pointed out. "He can't really stop me if I want to go."
"You're still under protective custody," Jensen said, slowly realizing the seriousness of Reid's decision.
"Then I'll waive it," he said. "It's a voluntary precaution, you can't force anyone to stay in protective custody."
"Are your really willing to risk it?" Jensen asked with a frown. "You're safe here, Reid. No one can get to you here."
Reid looked down at his hands. His nails were busy plucking at the white peel residue that clung to the fruit. "I can't just abandon her," he said quietly. "She has to be scared out of her mind. With Morgan and JJ gone she doesn't have anyone else."
"What about her boyfriend?" Jensen asked.
"Henry?" Reid looked thoughtful. "I suppose… I haven't called him yet, I need to- I don't know. And even if she has Henry, she's still part of my team. I don't want her to think that I believe what Dobson's saying. She deserves to know that someone's on her side."
"But the evidence-" Jensen started to protest.
"I know Garcia, okay?" Reid cut her off coldly. "You don't."
Jensen gnawed her lower lip as she studied his resolute face. Then she looked up towards the round table room where Dobson had barricaded himself for the moment. "Okay," she said slowly. "I'll go talk to him. Please don't to run away before I come back."
Reid looked over at Lee who sat at Morgan's desk doing paperwork. "Like I could even if I wanted to," he muttered and plopped a slightly sour segment of tangerine into his mouth.
The call to Henry was a painful trial for Reid as he had to try and defend both Garcia and Dobson at once to the other man, who sounded confused.
"I still don't get it," Henry said. Reid couldn't blame him. He was in the middle of it, and he didn't understand it either.
"But she's okay, right, she's not hurt, right?" Henry wanted confirmation.
"No, she's- she's fine," Reid answered.
"What about a lawyer, does she need one?"
"She's got a public defender."
"I'll get her someone better," Henry said immediately. "I know some people. I'll get right on it."
"That's good," Reid said. "Listen, I'm going to go see her in an hour or so." He didn't know what Jensen had said to Dobson, but she had come out of the round table room with an affirmative answer and they were due to leave soon. "I don't know if she's allowed outside visitors, but I'll find out for you and get back to you."
"Where is she?" Dobson asked.
Reid told him the name of the women's correctional facility Garcia had been temporarily placed in. "It's about a half hour out of Quantico," he said. "She hasn't been formally charged with anything yet, but Dobson and the prosecutor seems confident that it's only a matter of time before they've built a strong enough case against her."
"This is crazy," Henry said. "Absolutely… Penny would never do something like this, she adores your team, it's all she ever talks about."
"I know," Reid said.
"When you see her, tell her- tell her I love her, okay? And that I'll see her soon."
Reid promised.
The door to the team's prison slammed open so forcefully that it bounced against the wall and made everyone inside jump.
"Everybody kneel! Hands behind your back." Two henchmen came in, guns in hand.
The team looked at each other, hesitating.
"Now!" one of the henchmen shouted taking a hold of Prentiss' shoulder and pressing down hard until she was kneeling on the floor, keeping his gun pointed at her head.
Not seeing any sense in refusing, the rest followed suit. Hotchner and Morgan both took one of JJ's elbows to help her balance and Prentiss reached up to steady Gideon, whose injured knee wasn't up to the task.
The henchmen started by pulling thick, black hoods over their heads, tying them loosely around their necks. Then they proceeded to tie their hands tightly together with duct tape behind their backs.
"What going on?" Morgan asked, the hood scraping over his bearded cheeks as he spoke. He was surprised when he got an answer from the usually taciturn henchman.
"We're going to pick up the last one of you right now. Then we're moving you immediately, so we're fixing you up now to save time. The boss is eager to meet you."
The closing door signaled that they were alone again and they started to move around a little. JJ stayed on the floor, but changed position so that she was sitting cross legged and leaning against a wall.
"That didn't sound good, huh?" she said.
"No," Prentiss agreed, sitting beside her. "Not good at all. Ow," she complained as someone's chain rapped against her knee. "How about if we don't move around so much when we can't see anything."
"Sorry," Morgan said, feeling his way over to a cot, sitting down. The waiting game had begun anew.
When Reid stepped into the visiting room he was shocked. The woman on the other side of the table had little, if anything, in common with the Penelope Garcia he knew. The prison uniform was nowhere near anything Garcia would ever consider wearing. She wasn't wearing any make-up or jewellery. The dark-purple frames of her glasses that were usually so becoming on her just looked out of place here. Her hair hung in limp tresses around her face without berets or bows or scrungies in it. There was no pizzazz, no flair, nothing of that little extra that was always present on her person. But worst of all was that there was no spark. In just a few hours she'd turned into a complete stranger.
Her face was pasty gray, her lips colorless. When she lifted her face towards him he saw that her eyes were red rimmed and swollen. "I didn't do it," she whispered.
"I know, Garcia," Reid said, sitting down across from her.
"I wouldn't…" Her eyes filled up again and her lips quivered. "I would never hurt them. They're my friends. I'd never…"
"I know, of course you wouldn't. I'll never believe that you would." Reid reached over and put his hand over hers, patting it a little awkwardly.
She gripped the hand, squeezing it almost painfully. "I wouldn't, Reid. I wouldn't." She looked him in the eyes, pleading for understanding.
"I know, Garcia. I believe you."
"Well, then you're the only one that does," she said bitterly, but calmer and more collected now that she'd found some support. Her grip on his hand loosened. "Dobson," she spit out the name. "He interrogated me for hours, showed me these horrible photos, asked me why I'd betrayed them, where they were hidden, why I'd killed them. You don't think they're dead, do you?"
"Dobson's a jerk," Reid said emphatically.
"But you don't think they're dead?" Garcia asked again, so clearly looking for confirmation that Reid gave it to her, despite his own lingering doubts. He wanted to share her conviction, he really did, but…
"I'm sure they're fine," he said hesitantly. "It's just…"
"Just what?" she asked guardedly.
"It's the evidence they have against you. I don't know how they've gotten their hands on it, but it doesn't look good."
"Evidence? How can they have evidence when I haven't done anything?" Garcia asked shrilly.
"I- I don't know," Reid said uncomfortably. "But it's a lot and I'm not even sure they're letting me see all of it. Dobson's not that fond of me either at the moment. He's taken me off the case, he doesn't trust me. But, Garcia…"
"What?"
"Your cousin? Why didn't you tell us?" That was the one thing he hadn't been able to figure out.
"I didn't know," Garcia said. "Honestly, I didn't. He's a cousin on my father's side."
"And?" Reid couldn't make the connection.
"You know I have my stepfather's last name, right?" Garcia asked.
Reid nodded.
"That's because he's the only father I've ever known," Garcia explained. "My real dad died when I was just a baby, I don't even remember him. And I had almost no contact with his side of the family, except for visiting my grandmother once a year and since she died when I was eleven I haven't heard from any of them. The last time, no actually the only time, I remember ever meeting Donnie was when I was eight or nine. Also, he was the son of my aunt, and she was married. I had my stepfather's last name and he had his father's last name. I'm not sure I ever even knew his last name. I just knew I had a cousin called Donnie. When his name came up I never made the connection. I haven't thought about him since I was a little kid. And even if I'd known, it wouldn't have made a difference. He's a terrorist, he belongs in jail. I'd never kidnap Morgan and the others to get him out. Never! But try convincing Dobson of that."
Reid smiled bleakly. "I've tried, believe me."
"And they say I've been getting money," Garcia continued as if she hadn't heard him. "A lot of money, but I haven't seen any money. Is it true?"
Reid nodded. "There are 250.000 dollars on you account right now, courtesy of the HBM. You haven't noticed? When was the last time you looked at your bank statement?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "It hasn't really been a good week for doing banking errands, you know?" She laughed, but it didn't sound genuine. Reid could relate. He hadn't been doing much other than working since this whole thing had started either. "But why are they sending me money when I don't even know them?" Garcia wondered.
Reid shrugged. He didn't have a good answer. "Who could've gotten into your computers?" he asked instead. "That secret file has to have come from somewhere. If you didn't put it there, then who?" He hoped he didn't sound too accusatory, even though he was basically paraphrasing Dobson.
"I don't know," Garcia said, looking distraught. "I've been thinking about it all day and I just don't know. Normally I would've guessed that someone had hacked into the computer and created a mirrored hard drive via an offshore server. That way you can create documents directly in the original hard drive. But the FBI's system is supposed to be nigh on unhackable. Plus, I've put extra security on my systems. The way that Jones describes it, it sounds like someone has had physical access to my computers, and that just hasn't happened. But Reid…"
"Yes?"
"If… and I do mean if I would ever do something this… this…"
"You haven't done anything, I know that," Reid assured her again.
"I know, I know…" she said. "I'm just saying that if I had, do you really think I would be stupid enough to store information on a computer that could be connected to me?"
"No, I don't."
"Then help me to get Dobson to understand that! Cause I can't seem to get through to him." Garcia's frustration was clear and for a moment Reid saw her usual pluckiness peak out behind the desperation.
"I'm trying," Reid said. "But he's not really listening to me either." He changed the subject. "How's your lawyer?"
"Okay, I guess." Garcia shrugged. "She's nice."
"Henry said that he's going to get you a better one, he said he knew someone."
Garcia looked at him with suddenly alarmed eyes. "You've talked to Henry? What did he say?"
"He thinks this is crazy too," Reid said, and Garcia visibly relaxed. Reid realized that she'd been scared that Henry wouldn't believe her either and leave her over this. "He- he said he loves you," he said quickly, a little embarrassed, "And that he'll see you soon."
Garcia gave him the first smile he'd seen all day, but then she became serious again and once again she clutched his hand, her fingernails digging into his palm. "You have to continue looking for the others, Reid," she said, leaning over the table to make her point. "If Dobson's team believe I did it then they're gonna be looking in the wrong places. But you can't do that, you have to keep looking. Promise me that."
"What? I- Yes, of course." Reid looked startled. "Of course, I'll keep looking, I just don't know…" He looked down at the table, trying to collect his thoughts. "I don't know what I'll be able to do. Dobson isn't listening to me."
"But you have to try. You're all they have now." Suddenly she quieted and looked at him, frowning. "What are you doing here?" she asked angrily.
"What?" Reid asked, taken aback by the sudden change in her behavior.
"You're not supposed to leave the office. This is dangerous, you shouldn't have come. Not for me."
Reid looked at her. "But I had to. Someone had to. I'm sorry it's just me. I really wish Morgan was here right now. Or Hotchner or Gideon. None of them would've let Dobson take you. I don't know what to do…"
"Yes you do," Garcia said comfortingly. "You'll find them and then you'll get me out of here and everything will be fine."
He smiled nervously at her. "I thought I was supposed to cheer you up."
"We're still a team, aren't we?" Garcia said. "We look out for each other."
"What about you?" he asked. "Are you going to be okay? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Besides breaking me out?" Garcia laughed mirthlessly. "When you talk to Henry next time, tell him that I really need him right now. Tell him to come here as soon as he can. Tell him… tell him that I love him too."
Reid promised.
***
Reid left the prison utterly disturbed, agents Lee and Jensen flanking him on either side. He noticed that the other agents were looking surreptitiously around the parking lot, but at the moment, Reid was just too exhausted to care. This visit hadn't been a pleasant experience. Not that much that had happed this last week had been pleasant. As so often his thoughts went to his missing teammates. Was he doing all he could for them? What was he missing?
The visit with Garcia had been disconcerting, to say the least. He didn't know if he was strong enough or experienced enough to be the only one on her side, her sole defender. Not that he had any hesitations, he would be there for her no matter what, but he could already feel himself stretched too thin. The events of the last couple of days were pulling him in every direction, and in every direction he only met more resistance.
Agent Lee opened the back door of their SUV for Reid, ushered him in over the bench and climbed in behind him, while Jensen got into the driver's seat. Jensen and Lee did try for some light conversation, but Reid mostly tuned them out. He sat staring out the window, mulling darkly over Garcia's dejected attitude.
Jensen turned the key in the ignition, but the engine only sputtered. She frowned at the sound.
"What's wrong?" Lee asked, leaning over into the front seat.
"I don't know," Jensen said, trying again. "It worked fine on the way here."
"I don't like this," Lee said. "In movies, this is always when…"
Lee and Jensen looked at each other, Jensen's eyes big. "Let's get out of here."
Jensen already had her hand on the door handle. Not having paid much attention to their conversation, Reid was a little slow on the uptake, but Lee had already leaned over him and popped open his door. Luckily none of them had put on their seatbelts yet. "Let's go, let's go, let's go," he chanted, pushing at Reid to get out.
Reid stumbled out of the car, Lee's hand insistent on his back as he urged him further and further away from the car. Jensen rushed the other way. They still hoped that it was just a false alarm, that it was just a problem with the car, but they weren't taking any chances.
And then the explosion rocked the air. The deafening sound reached Reid's ears a mere fraction of a second before the full force of Lee's body slammed into his back with the speed of a freight train. The concussion wave sent them both crashing to the ground. Reid landed hard and Lee landed even harder on top of him, knocking every ounce of breath out of him. Metal, glass and fire rained down on them, hot and heavy, but Lee's body sheltered Reid from most of the debris.
Reid felt like he was trapped in a vacuum for an eternity, but once he regained his senses, he realized that not even a minute had passed. Chaos still reigned around him, burning hot and loud. "Lee?" he wheezed arduously. "Lee? You okay?"
There was no answer and the heavy body on top of him didn't move. Something smashed into the pavement beside him, making him flinch as sparks and embers filled his line of sight.
"Lee!" Reid called louder, finding his voice again. He put a shaky hand on the ground and tried to push up to dislodge the heavy bulk, but Lee was a dead weight pressing down on him. The only reward for his efforts was a limp arm that slid off his shoulder and thumped onto the ground, lying palm up, its fingers curled into the hand. Reid stared at the hand and at the blood rapidly running down the arm and pooling in the upturned appendage, forming a rising lake that inevitably ran over, slowly trickling onto the ground. Reid had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the ever increasing tendrils running towards him. Worry and shock gave way to panic and fear, and he started a forward motion as he tried to slither out from underneath his human shield. "Lee?" he tried again.
Suddenly someone grabbed his wrists and pulled hard. Reid cried out in pain as he felt something snap in his left wrist, but the effort was working and he was slowly being pulled out from underneath Lee's protective embrace. When his body was free from his prison he looked up, expecting to see a worried face, prepared to thank his helper. Instead he saw a black balaclava, pulled up above the nose and a pair of cold eyes met his. Instantly he tried to pull away from the death grip on his wrists, but a second masked man came up from the side and grabbed him underneath the arms. Together they pulled Reid up on his knees and then they each grabbed one of his arms, pulled him the rest of the way up and started dragging him across the parking lot.
"No, let me go," Reid protested. "Lee!" He dug his heels in and struggled with all his might. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the other agent lying on his stomach and Reid's knees buckled at the sight. A large piece of metal was protruding from Lee's back, too large not to be fatal. His jacket was saturated in blood, and his sightless eyes were staring at Reid. No one had to tell him what that meant.
"No," Reid breathed, and then he started to struggle harder, his instinct telling him to go back to his fallen comrade. His captors, however, weren't giving an inch. Reid was taller than both of them, but they easily out-muscled him. Half-dragging, half-carrying Reid, they jogged towards their own car, which wasn't an SUV, but an old, red, beaten up Ford. They weren't hindered the slightest by their struggling burden.
"Lee," Reid called, shouted, screamed. "Lee!" He managed to pull away from one of the men holding him and was rewarded with a resounding blow across his cheek that blurred his vision and sent him stumbling into his other captor, who shoved him away again. The first man's hands were back around his bicep and they were dragging him again. Disoriented Reid stumbled with them, not knowing which way he was going.
The gunshots surprised all of them, but perhaps Reid the most. The shock of the explosion and seeing Lee had made him forget about Jensen. She was crouched behind a car a few feet away, firing above their heads so she wouldn't accidentally hit Reid. One of the men immediately let go of Reid and pulled his gun, while the other started pushing Reid even more forcefully towards the car, which was only three feet away.
More shots suddenly came from another direction. The man and Reid both turned towards the shots and saw several prison guards that had been alerted by the explosion and were now rushing in to lend back up. The momentary confusion served Reid well. As the kidnappers ducked to avoid the bullets, Reid managed to tear away, ripping apart the seams in his jacket in the process. He ran towards the guards, hunched over to get out of the line of fire and it wasn't until he was behind them he turned and pulled his own gun. But the kidnappers were gone. They had jumped into the car and sped away, leaving behind a line of burnt rubber. The prison guards had lowered their guns, one of them requesting back up and roadblocks over his radio. Jensen, however, was still firing furiously as she ran after the car. The back window shattered, and then the car was out of firing range. Jensen stopped, screaming in frustration, before turning around, looking towards Lee's body. Reid turned too and swallowed hard. This shouldn't have happened.
"Hey, kid, are you okay?"
Reid turned to the prison guard talking to him and nodded mutely in response and then started walking towards Lee. The guard let him go.
The blackened, twisted skeleton that had once been a car was still burning hotly in the parking lot, fire rising high, smoke rising higher. The wreck screamed and groaned in the oppressive heat, the metal twisting in on itself, glass and rubber melting. A deformed and charred door lay on the ground, rocking lightly in the heat waves the car emitted. Reid almost tripped over it as he hurried back over the parking lot.
Reid reached Lee before Jensen did and clumsily fell to his knees on the ground next to him. He reached out, letting his fingers touch the neck, knowing full well that he wouldn't detect even the faintest flutter underneath his trembling fingertips, but he had to check anyway. The skin was still warm to touch and he realized that hardly any time at all had passed. Blood still ran freely from the wound on Lee's back.
Jensen reached them and stood behind Reid. She tentatively touched his shoulder and he looked up at her.
"Are you okay?" she asked, but her eyes weren't focused on him.
"Yeah," he said, his voice sounding muted in his own ears. "You?" She had soot on her face, an ugly burn on the back of one hand and her coat was singed, but other than that she looked unharmed.
"I-" Her voice broke and she took a moment, her lips pressed hard together. "Yeah, I'm okay. The, uh, the EMTs are on the way. It's… Oh, god, I can't believe this. Reid, are you sure you're okay."
"As much as I can be." Reid stood up and took two steps back. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," Jensen said quickly.
"No, yeah, I… uh… I- I didn't mean that." Oh god, he hadn't even thought about that. "I'm- I'm sorry for your loss. I liked Lee. He was a good agent."
"Yes, he was," Jensen agreed. "He was a good partner. He didn't deserve this."
"No one ever does."
The next time the door opened, the bound agents steeled themselves for whatever their kidnappers had in store for them. But half a minute later the door was shut again.
"Uh, guys?" Prentiss said. "The guy just cut me loose."
"Then what are you waiting for, girl?" Morgan asked. "Help us."
There was a rustling sound as Prentiss took off her hood, then "Yes!"
"What?" Hotchner asked.
"Reid's not here," Prentiss said and they could all hear the smile in her voice.
Morgan grinned widely under his hood. "Way to go, Reid," he whooped.
JJ raised her head. "Hey, do I smell hamburgers?"
***
The sound of shouting and yelling could be heard through the ceiling. The team sat quietly, their eyes ever so often drifting towards the ceiling, even though no words could be distinguished. Something had gone horribly wrong for Henry and the henchmen today. Now they were waiting to see what repercussions it would have for them.
When one of the henchmen opened the door to throw in their next hamburger meal, Gideon stopped him. "I thought we were leaving tonight."
"Change of plans," was the only answer he got before the door was slammed shut.
"So what does this mean?" Prentiss asked. "That they didn't get Reid or that… that something else went wrong." She didn't want to say the actual words, but what if the kidnapping had gone wrong because Reid had been killed.
"None of that," Morgan said. "Reid's fine, he's working on a way to get us out of here and he outsmarted them. That's why they're pissed."
JJ nodded, adding her silent support.
"But it wasn't part of their plan." Gideon said. "So the question is what consequences it will have."
Reid sat at his desk, staring at his hands. The mood in the room was somber and subdued, he felt as if people were tiptoeing around him. He suddenly noticed a speck of dried blood on one of his cuticles and scrubbed at it vigorously. The blood wasn't his. His ears were still ringing from the explosion, and his hearing was muffled. There was an elastic bandage wrapped tightly around his left wrist. An ice pack lay on top of it. He looked like death warmed over. His pants were ripped and soiled in the front, where they'd met the wet ground, the jacket he'd hung over his chair looked the same. There was soot in his hair, a pale shadow of a bruise on his jaw and a scrape on his chin and he looked as dejected as any man could.
His whole body was sore, his mind was sore. He'd been shaken, body, mind and soul, and now he was just numb and empty. He'd used up every last bit of energy he'd ever had. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Now he needed… He actually didn't know what he needed and he didn't care enough to figure it out.
He'd been reluctant to leave the prison parking lot. As irrational as it sounded, he'd known that once he'd left, he'd never see Lee again. After that Lee would have other mourners, family and friends, but that time, kneeling in the dirt next to the ever growing puddle of blood, had been Reid's time, and Reid's alone.
But the others had pushed him away, paranoid over the fact that he'd been the intended target. No one seriously believed that the kidnappers would come back to a scene that was rapidly filling with more and more law enforcement personnel every minute, but they weren't going to take any more chances. These kidnappers had shown a remarkable willingness for risk filled operations. So Reid had been rushed into a car and driven to an ER with so many body guards flanking him he could've been mistaken for the president.
Though, if he were honest with himself, he'd been relieved to leave the scene before Dobson got there. He knew he'd have to face the man sooner or later, but to have been told 'told you so' over Lee's still bleeding body… he wouldn't have been able to stomach that.
"You should get some sleep," Landon Jones said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on Reid's shoulder.
Reid looked up at him, an almost-smile ghosting his lips. "I'm too tired to sleep."
"No, he's right." Jensen stood next to Jones, still looking a little shell-shocked. "Come on," she said with a thick voice. "You need to sleep in a real bed tonight. We both do."
Reid knew that any protests he could make would only be half-hearted, but before he could voice them a shadow above him alerted him to Dobson's presence and he looked up. "I'm really sorry," he said quickly, standing up, making the ice pack slide off his wrist and smack onto the floor.
"Yeah, Doc," Dobson said tiredly. "We all are." He put a water bottle on the desk in front of Reid. "Are you sure you're okay? The doctors checked you out okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Reid said, even though he felt bruised in places he hadn't even known he had. He sat down again and picked up the ice pack. His sprained wrist was throbbing. "I just don't get it. That bomb could've killed us. I would've thought they would want to catch me alive."
"They did," Dobson said. "Bomb squad's been over the scene. They've found fragments of the device and say that the bomb was remote detonated. The terrorists controlled the explosion. We believe they sabotaged the car to get you out of it and then they were going to use the explosion as a distraction to grab you."
"And it almost worked," Jensen said, looking a little guilty.
"What about their car?" Reid asked. "It got shot at. Did you find it?"
"We found the getaway car on a side road a few miles away, burnt out," Dobson answered. "They probably figured we'd be suspicious of SUVs-"
"Or it was too badly damaged when they ran Gideon and JJ off the road," Reid interrupted.
"Doubtful," Dobson said. "The tire tracks on that site match the ones at the convenience store where Prentiss was kidnapped. But the Ford has been in a scrap yard the last six months; HBM must have salvaged it from there. The employees at the scrap yard didn't even know it was missing. There aren't any cameras on the lot, so they can't tell us when it happened."
"I wonder how they knew I was going to be there," Reid mused. "The trap had to have been set in the parking lot. Do you think we were followed?" he asked Jensen, who shrugged.
"How do you think they found out? I think I know who told them," Dobson said darkly. "Garcia knew you were coming, didn't she?"
"Yes, she did, but come on," Reid stared disbelievingly at him. "How would she have been able to do that? She hasn't had any visitors besides me and if she's used the phone there'll be a record of it."
"They probably found out that Garcia's been arrested," Jensen said to stop the arguing. "It probably wasn't too hard to figure out you would go there sooner or later."
"Maybe that's why she was framed," Reid said, standing up to pace as he thought. "So I would go visit her and they would get a chance to grab me."
"Framed? Oh, come on Doc," Dobson said tiredly. "Not this again."
"They probably figured they'd have to do something drastic to get me out of the building," Reid defended his theory. "It's not that easy to get to me anymore."
"You make a lot of assumptions, Doc."
"I prefer to call them theories."
"Fine, whatever, I give up." Dobson said. "Knock yourself out with your little conspiracy theories, but while you do that, I'll concentrate on finding your team. And I hope you're not thinking of any more little outings in the future, now that you've seen what will happen. A good man is dead, needlessly, because you refused to listen to simple instructions. Don't you care that you put other agents at risk? Not just mine, but your own team too. Didn't it ever occur to you that these people might just be waiting to collect the whole set of you before making all of you disappear for ever?"
"Sir!" Jensen said indignant, thinking that he had gone too far.
But Reid just looked at him with wide, excited eyes. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing that you don't deserve to hear…"
But Reid wasn't listening to him anymore. Adrenaline started pumping through his tired body. He sat down at his desk and fumbled for a pen, desperate to write his thoughts down so he could organize them better. "A whole set…" he murmured to himself. "Of course. But who could figure out… who could afford… connections… I've got to… yes, yes, that's it, that's why. Now if I can only find… Collection… collecting… What does that remind me of? Come on, come on… collecting… collecting…"
"Doc!"
Reid looked up. "What?"
"What are you on about?" Against his will, Dobson was curious.
"Never mind, I'll tell you later. I think I know what's happening. I just got to…" Reid trailed off again, completely shutting Dobson out.
On Thursday morning Reid was pouring himself a cup of coffee in the break room when Jensen came looking for him.
"Reid, they want you up in the round table room."
Reid put down the sugar shaker and looked at her. "Me? Why?"
"I don't know," she answered. "They just told me to come and get you."
They walked up together and Jensen opened the door and stuck her head in. "Reid's here, sir."
She stepped out of the way and Reid walked into the room. Everyone was looking at him with sympathetic faces and he felt his insides turn to ice. "What- what's going on?"
All eyes turned to Dobson, who scratched his head awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry Doc, but we've got some bad news."
"What?" Reid asked, dreading the answer.
"We think Morgan and Prentiss are dead."
"What?" Reid whispered, the color draining from his face.
Swartling bopped Dobson on the arm, obviously feeling that he could've delivered the news in a better way.
"Reid, come here, sit down," she said, gently taking his arm. "What Dobson is trying to say is that we've gotten a message from the HBM and it doesn't look good."
"Dead?" Reid said weakly.
"Here, read for yourself." Swartling put the letter in his hands.
Reid grabbed the paper with shaky hands, fully expecting to see his teammates' dead, vacant eyes staring up at him from it. But there were no pictures, just text.
How dare you commit such an atrocity as to arrest our dear sister Penelope? It is an outrage and an insult to our entire family. As you apparently put such little thought and consideration into the situations of those who are supposed to be your friends, it will not sadden you to hear that Agents Morgan and Prentiss have been executed in retaliation for your betrayal. They died slowly and tortuously, screaming and cursing your names and your failure. If you have any shame you will now give us back our brothers and sister, and then maybe we will consider releasing the rest of your people. If you continue to ignore us, more will die, and not just those currently residing with us. Beware, all of you, for tomorrow could be your last day on Earth. /HBM.
After having finished reading, Reid turned the paper over, frowning, then reached for the envelope it had come in, looking into it. "Is this all?" he asked. "They didn't send anything else?"
"No, that's all," Swartling said, a little confused by his reaction.
"Then they're not dead," Reid said decisively, the relief evident in his voice.
"You know something we don't, Doc?" Dobson asked with a raised eyebrow.
"They're not dead," Reid insisted. "Look at this note, it doesn't give us anything. If they were really dead the kidnappers would've told us where we could find the bodies, or at the very least sent us pictures."
"Maybe they didn't want to leave any physical evidence," Jones said.
"No," Reid said. "It doesn't work like that."
"You think the terrorists are going to be playing by your rulebook, Doc?"
"Yes, yes I do actually," Reid said. "I'm a profiler, I know kidnappings. It's about control, power and fear. If they had killed Morgan or Prentiss the way they say they did, then they would want us to see their tortured, mutilated bodies." His breath hitched for a moment as his brain caught up with his mouth and the images of Morgan and Prentiss' tortured and mutilated bodies filled his mind.
"What I'm saying," Reid said. "Is that they wouldn't gain anything by just telling us they're dead without showing us. All we have here is their word for it and their word can't be trusted. This is nothing but a scare tactic to get us to act."
Dobson sat down next to him with a grimace. "We don't know what happened, Doc. They could've been killed by accident and they're using this as an excuse. It's been a week today since Morgan was kidnapped. How many kidnapping victims survive that long in captivity?"
Reid closed his eyes and bowed his head. He knew exactly how few they were and the percentage was devastatingly low.
"I know," he said. "I know that theoretically they could all be dead by now. I know that we haven't had any contact with any of them, that there hasn't been any evidence that they are still alive. I know that they could've been killed the moment they were kidnapped, even if I don't think that's the case here. But I do know that if they're dead, it's not because they are punishing us for this. Not without leaving some kind of proof."
Dobson looked calculatingly at him for a while before nodding. "Okay," he said. "Until we have bodies we'll work under the assumption that they're still alive."
Reid looked surprised at being listened to.
Dobson stood up. "Let's make some more copies of the letter, I want to confront Garcia with it."
"What?" Reid said horrified. "Wait. No. You can't do that."
Dobson slowly turned around. "Excuse me?"
"You can't show that to Garcia," Reid said protectively. "You can't tell her that they might be dead."
"Have you missed something here, Doc? It's what I've been saying all this time. Garcia's in on it and this proves it!" Dobson slammed his hand down on the letter lying in front of Reid on the table. "This letter confirms that she's a member of the HBM and has been feeding them information for months now. They are naming her specifically, how can you still doubt the evidence?"
Reid opened his mouth to answer, but discovered that he didn't know what to say.
"So please tell me why I can't tell her that the people she's sent off to a bunch of killers might be dead?"
"She didn't do it," Reid said with a low voice. "She was framed."
"You know Doc, you were this close to being back on my good side," Dobson said, showing Reid the smallest possible space between his thumb and index finger. "But now you've ruined it. She wasn't framed. The HBM have claimed full responsibility for all five kidnappings. Unsubs who claim responsibility for a crime usually don't try to frame others for it, they don't need to."
"Then they were framed too," Reid said. He had no idea where the idea had come from, maybe the thought had lain dormant in his mind for some time and now the words had just jumped out of his mouth. But now that he'd said it, it suddenly made all the sense in the world. Dobson didn't share that conviction, though.
"What?" Dobson fairly exploded, not believing what he had heard.
"No, seriously," Reid looked up at him. "Think about it. We haven't been able to find a motive, none of them know anything-"
"Get out."
"But-"
"Now, Doc. For your own good, get out of my sight," Dobson yelled.
Jensen touched Reid's arm. "Come on," she said quietly, leading Reid out of the round table room.
***
"What's that?" Reid asked as he saw a forensics tech walk past his desk carrying a box.
"It's the stuff from Agents Gideon and Jareau's car," the tech answered. "We just finished with it."
"Can I see it?" Reid asked.
"Sure," the tech shrugged, but Jensen suddenly sat up straight.
"Hey, wait a minute," she said. "You're not supposed to-"
"Come on," Reid cajoled her. "What can it hurt?"
Jensen looked hesitant before she nodded to the tech to put the box down on Reid's desk. "Okay then," she said, stealing a look up at the closed blinds of the round table room. "But make it quick."
Reid took the lid off and looked into the box. The car belonged to the bureau, so there were just some personal items in the box, each one put in its own clear evidence bag.
"Did you find anything useful?" Reid asked the tech.
"We dusted everything for prints when we checked the car," the tech said. "We only found Gideon's, Jareau's and some from the people in our garage. The car's been sent to the shop and Agent Dobson asked for this to be sent up."
Reid looked at the items. Gideon's gun, JJ's cell phone and handbag, a pen, a folder and a notepad. Reid picked up the cell phone first. He pushed at a few buttons through the plastic bag, but the battery was dead. Then he picked up the notepad. The top sheet was crinkled and ripped. Reid tried to smooth it out through the plastic, but didn't succeed so he took it out of the bag. Laying it flat on the desk he held the corners down with his hands and looked at the writing. JJ's sloppy handwriting was familiar, although the letters and numbers looked shakier than usual, indicating that she'd been writing while the car was moving. There was a sharp intake of breath as he realized what he was looking at.
"A license plate number… Did you run it?" He looked up expectantly.
"Of course," the tech answered. "It came back empty. Doesn't exist. We put out a BOLO anyway, in case they're running with fake plates."
Reid's face fell. For a moment he had hoped…
The tech saw his disappointment and hurried to say, "We've analyzed scraped up paint from the rear end of the SUV. We've found fragments of the other car and believe we have the make and model. Who knows, coupled with the fake plates, maybe someone will spot them."
"Yeah, maybe," Reid said tiredly.
"Are you finished with this now?" Jensen asked him.
He nodded. "Go ahead and take it up to the conference room. Dobson will be waiting."
During the day Reid had noticed that Dobson never mentioned Prentiss or Morgan anymore. He would either say 'the team', or mention Hotchner, Gideon or JJ by name. That meant he didn't fully believe in Reid's analyses of the message and thought that they were probably dead. That didn't matter though, Reid didn't need his approval. He had his own ideas now and was fully prepared to undertake his own investigation.
"Have you even checked the security tapes?" Reid questioned, more or less ambushing Dobson in the break room.
"Which ones?" Dobson asked sourly, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Those from this floor," Reid clarified. "To see who has been in Garcia's office besides her."
"Yeah, we checked them."
"And?"
"And nothing." Dobson leaned back against the counter, eyeing Reid suspiciously. "There aren't any cameras in Garcia's office or directly outside. All we have is the general footage from the bullpen. There are a lot of people here every day; staff, witnesses, visiting agents… All of them with legit reasons for being here. There's no point in trying to run down every one of them to accuse them of terrorism."
"You're just saying that because you want Garcia to be your insider," Reid said sullenly.
Dobson's face grew red and his eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me that you don't think I know how to do my job?"
"Sorry," Reid said hastily, not wanting to alienate the other man further. "Do you mind if I try?"
"Try what, Doc?"
"Looking at the tapes."
Dobson sighed and pushed past Reid on his way out of the room. "If it'll keep you out of my way, then knock yourself out. Jones has the footage."
Jones was in Garcia's office, double checking the hard drives of the many computers kept in there. Reid stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the man who looked so out of place amongst the colorful knick-knacks Garcia kept there. He cleared his throat and Jones swung around to face him.
"Dr. Reid?"
"Hi," Reid said, smiling nervously. "Listen, I was wondering-"
"I'm not supposed to tell you anything," Jones said quickly. "If you have any questions you have to take them up with Dobson."
Reid ignored his request. "You said that the photos of Morgan and the others had been uploaded to Garcia's computer two and five days ago. You can see the exact time they were uploaded too, can't you?"
"Yeah…" Jones said carefully. "Why?"
"Can you tell me when?"
Jones hesitated, his eyes skipping to the phone.
"Come on," Reid cajoled. "You don't really want to believe Garcia had anything to do with this either, do you?" he asked, hoping that there existed some kind of honor code between the bureau's computer whizzes.
Jones sighed. "I never wanted to go looking through her stuff in the first place, you know." He turned to his own laptop and pulled up the correct file. "The first one was on Saturday 7.15 p.m. and the second one was Tuesday 10.24 p.m. But you didn't hear it from me."
"Thanks," Reid said, jotting down the numbers. "Dobson said I could look at the bullpen's security footage if I wanted. He said you had it. You can ask him if you want."
Jones shook his head. "It's okay, I believe you. Here." He dug through a box that stood on the floor next to him and came up with a couple of DVDs. "You can play these on your computer, right?"
"Yes. Thank you."
The DVDs were marked with the date of the recording and a camera ID, so Reid chose the two days that corresponded with the uploads to Garcia's computer. He concentrated on the vestibule with the elevators and looked for people who were veering off towards Garcia's office. He started a half hour before the first upload had taken place and continued a half hour after. He then repeated the process with the second DVD.
Henry Caswell…
When the obvious solution was staring him in the face he grew hot, then cold, then furious. He had been so unbelievably stupid! How could he have missed it? It should've clicked the moment Jones told him the second uploading time. He'd been right there when Henry came by two nights ago. He'd seen Garcia leave her office to get her forgotten cell phone, leaving Henry behind. He should've thought of it the moment Dobson asked him who else had had access to Garcia's computers, but Reid, and the whole team, had grown accustomed to Henry's presence. Reid had been busy trying to remember strangers and unauthorized people coming into the bullpen. Henry was neither. He would've had access to Garcia's computers for months now. All that information that had been uploaded; the photos, the plans, their personal information. It had to have been Henry. He'd spent months with them, learning all about them. And then he'd framed Garcia…
'Garcia should've made the connection during her interrogations,' Reid thought unfairly, because deep down he knew that she would no more suspect Henry than she would suspect him. Not only was she head over heels in love with this guy, she was also a deeply trusting person. A personality trait that might be forever crushed with just one phone call from Reid.
Getting Garcia on the phone took some doing and once he'd gotten through to the prison it was a long wait before Reid heard Garcia's voice.
"Hello?"
"Garcia? It's Reid."
"Reid! Are you okay?" Garcia sounded anxious.
"What?" Reid's forehead furrowed, not understanding what she was talking about.
"I heard about the explosion… and about Agent Lee. I'm so, so sorry. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," he said, a little ashamed that he hadn't realized that Garcia would've heard about the kidnapping attempt. "But-"
"And… and…" Garcia's breath hitched and Reid suspected that she'd been crying recently. "Dobson came here and showed me a letter that said Morgan and Emily are dead because of me. It's not true, is it?"
Reid cursed under his breath. He'd told Dobson not to show Garcia the letter. He should've known he wouldn't listen. "No, I don't think so, I think it was just a scare tactic." He felt guilty that he hadn't been with her to help her against Dobson, but he knew he would never have been allowed to go back to the prison.
"But you don't know for sure?" Garcia asked anxiously.
"No, not for sure," Reid said reluctantly. "But it's more likely… according to the profile."
He could almost hear Garcia relax on the other side of the phone as she heard the magic word profile. She trusted him so much… He hesitated, hating to bring her more bad news, but it was necessary.
"Garcia, I need to ask you some difficult questions."
"Okay," she said. "What's going on? Have you found something?"
Reid rubbed his brow, hating what he had to do.
"Maybe, that's what I have to talk to you about. It's about Henry."
"Henry?" Garcia's voice became shrill in fright. "Is he okay? Has something happened to him too?"
"No, no," Reid assured her. "He's okay. I just need to know… How- how often does Henry come to the office?"
"My office?" Garcia sounded puzzled. "Two, three times a week, I suppose. He thinks I work too late, so he likes to come and pick me up from work when we have a date."
"Is he- is he ever early?"
"Try always," Garcia snorted. "He comes straight from work and you know me, I'm never ready to go. Reid, what is it you want to know?"
"Just… Is he ever alone in you office?"
"Sometimes. If I have a late briefing or something I let him wait in the office."
"And you leave your computers on?"
There was a long pause, then Garcia coldly said, "I don't care what you think you know, Reid, but I trust Henry. He's the greatest guy I've ever been with and I love him."
"I'm sorry, but-"
"Besides, he's a complete klutz around computers."
Reid sighed. "That's an easy thing to fake. Garcia, someone uploaded that information on your computer, and if it wasn't you, then who else had access to them?"
"It wasn't Henry," Garcia denied and Reid could hear the choked back tears in her voice. "He can barely send an e-mail. He loves me, he wouldn't do this to me."
"Then who, Garcia? Who?" he pressed on.
"I don't know," she whispered. "Reid, please tell me that it wasn't Henry. Don't do this to me. Please. Don't let it be Henry. I need him."
"I'm so sorry," Reid said. "I hope you can forgive me one day, but I don't see any other way."
"No, Reid, no. Don't you dare…"
"I'm sorry," he said again. "But I can't see any other solution. I need you to tell me if you can think of any place where he might be keeping Morgan and the others."
"He hasn't done anything, Reid."
"A cabin, a storage facility… has he ever taken you someplace-"
"Reid, stop it." Garcia was crying now. "It wasn't Henry. It can't have been."
"I'm sorry, Garcia, I really am. I, uh, I have to go." Reid felt like a coward when he hung up the phone.
The round table room was empty as Reid snuck into it to look for the computer logs from Garcia's office. He was going to match Henry to every single upload. 'I'm not doing anything wrong,' he thought guiltily to himself as he entered the forbidden room. 'I work here too.'
Shutting the door behind him he went up to the table and started rooting through the papers spread out before him. But his search was brought to a stop as he suddenly found himself staring at the forensics' report regarding Gideon and JJ's car. There was something amiss here. He frowned. What had triggered his memory? Then he saw it. The license plate number JJ had written down. The number in the report didn't match his memory of the note.
He looked around. JJ's note was hanging on a white board, still in the evidence bag. He went over to reread it, just to be sure, but his memory hadn't failed him. The 4 was supposed to be a 9 and the 8 was really a well-rounded 3. Forensics had transcribed it wrong. Granted, JJ's handwriting could be tricky to read on a normal day and having been written while driving made it even more difficult. But still, they had had a BOLO out for the wrong car for days.
His original search forgotten, Reid hurried out of the room. Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe the correct license plate number was the smoking gun he needed to cement his case.
***
On Friday morning Reid, who had worked through the night and was running mainly on caffeine fumes, all but ran into the round table room, interrupting Dobson who was standing by a white board lecturing his team. All eyes turned to Reid.
"Out," Dobson said, pointing to the door.
"No," Reid said, "Not until you listen to me." The challenge was clear in his eyes.
"We don't have time for-"
"It won't take long, and you won't be sorry. I think I know what happened."
Dobson looked contemplatively at Reid. "You've got five minutes, Doc," he finally consented, sitting down with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Thank you." Reid pointed to Jones' laptop which was plugged into the plasma screen via a wireless connection. "Do you mind?"
Jones shook his head and pushed it over the table to Reid, who quickly pulled up a website showing a photo of a charismatic, tanned man in his mid-forties with wavy, blond hair and perfect teeth.
"This is Daniel Walker. He's the CEO and major shareholder of D. Walker Enterprises, a company founded by him some 20 years ago that has a several billion dollar turnover every year. Walker is considered a pioneer in home electronics: cell phones, DVD players, home computers etc."
Dobson made a get on with it gesture with his hand.
"I know of him," Reid impatiently started rushing over his words. "Because we investigated him about two and a half years ago during a serial kidnapping/murder case in his home town in Texas. Walker's a collector and being a multibillionaire he has had no problems putting together one of the most impressive private collections in the country. When we went to his house to interview him I saw some art work that really should be in a museum and Walker's been a suspected buyer in a couple of artifact smuggling cases, only there was never any tangible evidence, the paperwork always stopped short just before they implicated him. He's also a trophy hunter; you know the kind that goes on illegal safaris in Africa and comes back with mounted heads of endangered species. Walker wants the best of the best of the best, and what Walker wants, Walker gets and he doesn't care who he has to run over to get it. He buys and sells sports teams as if they are used cars and he's extremely competitive."
"Doc," Dobson said. "I'm sure this is all very interesting, but-"
"No, wait, there's more," Reid said quickly. "Gideon pegged Walker as a malignant narcissist, which fit the profile of the unsub we were looking for at the time. A malignant narcissist feels superior, unique, irresistible, brilliant, omnipotent and better than anyone else. He despises other people, holds them in contempt and regards them as lowly and subservient beings. The narcissist feels that his time is invaluable, his mission is of cosmic importance and his contributions to humanity are priceless. Therefore he demands total obedience and catering to his ever-changing needs. Any demands on his time and resources are deemed to be both humiliating and wasteful, but he's also dependent on other people, because he always needs to have his ego reassured, he needs to be told how important he is. But as he really despises other people he hates that part of himself, that feeling of dependence and therefore blames others for his anger and basically displaces all of his emotions on others. Malignant narcissists are control freaks who sadistically manipulate others to satisfy their needs and they demonstrate joyful cruelty and sadism. They're not sociopaths in that they have a full range of emotions. The only thing they can't feel is empathy."
"Whoa, Doc," Dobson stopped him. "As I said, I'm sure this is absolutely fascinating for someone like you, but what does that have to do with my case?"
Reid bit his lip in annoyance over the interruption. "Walker turned out to be innocent two years ago, but he did express a great interest in the BAU, in our work. He said he was always interested in measuring his skills to that of other hunters. Using his terminology, that's what he thought we were: hunters, trackers. If a narcissist likes something then he takes it and if someone impresses him he want to beat him, be better than him. Especially one like Walker who is rich and powerful and has all the resources he needs to make almost anything happen. Walker is an absolute alpha male. He doesn't just expect success from his underlings, he demands it. And the people working for him understand that. They understand that it is success or nothing, so if something goes wrong, they don't just expect to be punished, they'll most likely punish themselves. But Walker is smart too, and very careful. That's why no one has ever been able to trace anything back to him. That means that when something goes right, he gets to enjoy the riches, but if something goes wrong, then someone else pays the price."
Reid remembered when they had interviewed Walker. It had been he, Hotchner and Gideon that had gone to see him at his home. The house had been one big display case. Reid wouldn't have been surprised if he'd found a private curator puttering around the many treasures spread throughout the large ranch house. Everywhere he looked he saw art, hunting trophies and artifacts all carefully lit and displayed, designer furniture and the newest, most modern electronic equipment.
Walker had known who they were before they were even inside the gates, which made sense. Moguls like him didn't let just anyone into their homes and narcissists were notoriously paranoid. Walker had been challenging, meeting every question with one of his own with a perpetual amused catch-me-if-you-can attitude. But his eyes had been calculating and measuring as he had sized them up. Reid had seen that Walker had been impressed with them, especially when Gideon made an on the spot profile of him that was too accurate to deny. But Reid had also seen how unwilling Walker had been to be impressed with them.
He also remembered what Gideon had said as they left the ranch. "Some day, that man's going to mean trouble."
"Are you trying to say that you think this Daniel Walker is behind all this?" Dobson fairly oozed skepticism. "This all seems very far-fetched, Doc. You're basing all this on a conversation you had with the guy two and a half years ago?"
"No, not as far-fetched as you might think," Reid defended his theory. "You see, this whole time I've been wondering why us. You know? There hasn't really been any good reason for a terrorist organization to choose us for leverage. Terrorist targets are usually military, political or unprotected, vulnerable civilians. A group of high profile FBI behavioral analysts that chase serial killers don't fit that profile. If they wanted to target the FBI, they should've gone either for a Director or an anti-terrorist team or just random agents. And when reading the second and third ransom note, it seemed like they would've been satisfied with any agents as long as they could get their hands on as many as possible. There are plenty of unprotected agents walking the streets, why not just grab anyone of them? No, they were specifically after my team, even though they knew we would be protected. When we went to the prison to interview Nelson and Marquez they seemed genuinely surprised that someone was trying to free them. I think it was all a ruse to get us looking in the wrong direction while the real unsub was hiding in plain sight."
"Doc! Will you get to the point already?" Dobson said exasperated.
"I know who planted the evidence on Garcia's computers," Reid said quickly. "There's only one person outside this office she has trusted enough to let into her office. Her boyfriend for seven months, Henry Caswell. Unfortunately we've all become too accustomed to seeing him around here to find it strange. I was so busy looking for an outsider that I never considered him, but he was here both times when the photos of my team were uploaded into Garcia's computer and he visited here only minutes after you left for the hostage exchange. The plans were still on the white boards in the bullpen, telling him where Hotchner would be. Garcia has confirmed that he has been alone in her office at times. And two days ago I called him and told him the exact time I would be going to the prison to visit Garcia. He has had every opportunity in the world to pull this off."
"But what does that have to do with Daniel Walker?" Swartling asked, not following Reid's reasoning.
"I was just coming to that," Reid said. "Henry works for the Danwal cooperation, which is a branch of D. Walker enterprises. Henry works directly under Walker. You see, malignant narcissists are perpetually lazy. They're all talk, no action. They always let someone else do their work for them. Plus, they're bad at long-term planning. Walker would need someone very strategically apt to head an operation like this. Henry has all those qualifications, and he's gunning for a promotion. He told us that he was working on a big project and that if it came through, he would get it."
"That project being kidnapping your team on Walker's behalf?" Dobson asked doubtfully.
"I think so, yes." Reid confirmed.
"What about HBM?" Jones asked. "How do they fit in?"
"HBM have nothing to do with this," Reid said, to the disbelief of everyone in the room. "And Garcia has been framed."
"Come on, Doc, not this again," Dobson said tiredly. "We have a lot of evidence against them, remember?"
Reid shook his head. "I know that the money on Garcia's account according to your research comes from HBM, but you've never been able to figure out where HBM got their money from, have you? They don't have that kind of economy, Agent Swartling said so herself. Just the fact that the money between HBM and Garcia is traceable is suspicious in itself. Someone is pointing fingers, someone is laying out a false trail. Everything points to HBM because of a reason."
"Because they did it," Dobson said pointedly.
"You're not listening to me!" Reid exploded. "It's because someone wants us to think that. Someone who is controlling us, letting us know only that which he wants us to know. I mean, why now? It's been two years since Nelson and Marquez went to prison. If HBM wanted them back so badly, why wait two years? Also, Nelson and Marquez are too unimportant, too low in the hierarchy for the organization to take such extreme measures to get them out. They're not worth the risk. It had to be done by someone with a personal reason."
"Like a cousin," Dobson pointed out.
Reid shook his head, annoyed at the man's single-mindedness. "A cousin who she hasn't seen or heard of in 20 years? Or someone who's taken painstakingly care to find a personal link into our team upon which he could build his ruse? Remember, Henry started dating Garcia more than six months ago, this has been long in planning. Walker is a billionaire. He has the time, the money and the power to pull something like this off. Besides, you're not giving Garcia enough credit. If she was ever going to be a part of something like this, then she would make sure we would never be able to trace it back to her. She's too good. If she actually was desperate enough to try and break someone out of prison she would make sure it was so far away from us that we'd never, ever hear about it. Using us as hostages, that would just be asking for trouble."
"And you think this Walker did it and that his motive is that he wants to be a better hunter than you guys?" Dobson sounded skeptic.
"That's the classic trademarks of a malignant narcissist," Reid informed him."He needs constant reassurance from the world around him that he is the best. He knows right from wrong, he just doesn't see the point of following someone else's rules unless there's something to gain by it. But he does understand the importance of playing by the rules, or at least keeping up the appearance. That means that he knows every loophole, every shortcut. That's why he's never been caught."
"Yeah, whatever you say Doc," Dobson said flippantly. "But you don't really expect that any prosecutor will ever dream of putting together a case on the basis of what you just told us, do you? And how does this help us locate your team? Where does this Walker character live anyway?"
"His main house is a ranch in Texas, where he runs his business. He also has several vacation homes throughout the country. Mostly hunting lodges and cabins in isolated places. The one building that stands out is a house in a suburb to Washington D.C., bought and paid for the same week Henry Caswell first appeared here, a little more than seven months ago. There's no record of Walker having been in D.C. since he acquired the house, but I'm willing to bet that if we look at Henry's phone records we're going to find a lot of calls to and from Texas. If we can make that connection then we'll have enough circumstantial evidenceto get a search warrant for that house."
Dobson shook his head. "You can't just pull a name out of your ass and expect us to jump at it. Like you said it's just circumstantial."
"Henry won't have any evidence at his own home," Reid argued. "It would've been too risky since he's been taking Garcia there for months. But if we can find proof that Walker's house is at his disposal too, them we'll have enough for a search warrant. Check his phone records, that's all I'm asking. Please."
"I don't know, Doc." Dobson still wasn't convinced.
"Don't you see? Everything points to one man, one behind the scenes financier man whose iron will governs and controls people who doesn't even know it. That's Walker. I told you, Walker knows what he wants and will stop at nothing to get it. But he also needs someone with a lot of patience and the ability of long-term planning and thinking, with a complex and elaborate network of accomplices. Henry, with the financial backing of Walker, is the perfect match. Walker's workers are loyal, even devoted, to him, but he is loyal to no one but himself. His workers are expendable. Should they be caught or killed while doing his bidding he will only mourn the delays or termination of the projects. Likewise he has no problems sacrificing them if it means saving himself. He doesn't tolerate mistakes and they all know it. If you make a mistake then you're on you own."
"Doc, you're ranting again," Dobson warned him.
"I'm not ranting," Reid bit back. "I'm trying to give you a psychological profile of our unsub." He wondered if Dobson felt stung by the profile, as he had some narcissistic characteristics himself. "Think about it. If this was HBM, why haven't they simply killed the hostages by now? It's quite obvious that we'll never make a trade with them. Kidnappings are a risky business. The kidnapping must have a value in itself, it has to be worth the risk, it has to pay off. Political kidnappings are for one of two reasons; ransom or terror or sometimes both. But either way you need resources. Don't you understand? It's a scam, a ruse, a has nothing what so ever to do with terrorism or HBM. It's a magic trick, it's an illusion. Keep everyone's attention on the right hand so they won't notice what the left one is doing." He fished a coin out of his pocket and did just that. Jones looked impressed by the trick.
"And it was a safe distraction, because Henry knows that we don't negotiate with terrorists," Reid continued. "He knew that no matter what, we'd never ever let Nelson and Marquez go free, we'd just keep stalling, so he would never be in the position to have to go through with an actual hostage exchange, which is just how he likes it, because he has no intentions of ever letting Gideon and the others go. We've been barking up the wrong tree the whole week, because that's the way he wants it."
Reid pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and handed it to Dobson. It was a copy of the note with the license plate number on it. "This was found in the crashed SUV. It's JJ's handwriting."
"I know," Dobson looked questioningly at Reid. "We ran it, came up with nothing."
"That's because it was transcribed wrong. JJ's handwriting can be tricky sometimes. You see, this four-"
Dobson held up a hand, stalling his explanation. "Transcribed wrong? Are you telling me you've found the car?"
"Yes." Reid heaved a sigh or relief. Finally, something the man could understand! In retrospect, maybe he should've started with that information... "The car is registered to Danwal cooperation, which as I told you is owned by D. Walker enterprises. Daniel Walker acts as its CEO and it's where Henry Caswell works."
The room fell quiet. It was obvious that everyone was waiting for Dobson's decision. Reid was anxiously bouncing on his toes. He knew he was right, but had he convinced the man who called the shots?
"Well," Dobson said at length, lazily chewing his gum. "I don't know what to make of your idea about Walker, but if it is as you say, that this Caswell guy has had access to Ms. Garcia's office and works for the company that owns the car used for kidnapping Gideon and Jareau then I guess a search warrant is in order. This is your one shot, Doc, you'd better be right. Because if I'm wasting my time…"
"Yes sir," Reid said, relieved.
***
Henry's cell phone transcript did indeed show a large number of phone calls made to Texas, which wasn't in itself incriminating as his company's main office was located there. It had, however, found another frequently dialed cell phone number, that had been identified as belonging to a person employed as a security guard at the Danwal cooperation, but when they checked it out, it turned out that that man hadn't been to work in over a week. Reid felt confident that he was one of the three kidnappers. Jones had traced his cell phone's GPS location to the house Reid had identified as a possible place to hide his team. A quick call to the dealership that supplied the Danwal cooperation with their cars had also revealed that the SUV they were looking for had a GPS navigator, which Jones had had no problem locating. The car was parked at the same address as the cell phone. The search warrant had not been hard to come by after that.
Reid sat in the passenger seat in one of the bureau's SUVs with Jensen driving. He stared at the scene they were driving up to, at the ordinary looking white, two-story house at the end of a suburban cul-de-sac. It looked new; in fact the whole neighborhood looked new. Some houses still appeared to be empty and one of them even had scaffolding standing against a still unpainted side wall. The lawns hadn't even grown in properly yet, you could still see where the rolled out sections of grass joined together.
'They have to be here,' Reid thought as they drove through the picture perfect community. 'They just have to. Because if they aren't, then I have no idea where to look.'
But they would be here, he was sure of it. He didn't care about anyone else's skepticism, he'd gotten his confirmation about an hour ago when the surveillance team had reported that Henry had shown up at the site, had gone into the house and had been in there ever since. Reid could see his car parked in the driveway, in front of a closed garage door.
Undercover agents had discretely evacuated the neighboring houses during the afternoon and SWAT had scouted the area. It was now dusk and they were finally ready to make their move. A large contingent of FBI vehicles was speeding up the street while still trying to be as discreet as possible.
Reid could see that the light was on in almost every room in the house, but that the curtains were drawn in every window. Whoever was in there obviously didn't want anyone looking in on them.
Jensen pulled up behind Dobson's car and got out. Reid jumped out too, strapped on his Kevlar vest and headed after the SWAT team. Suddenly Dobson was standing in his way, putting a hand on his chest. "Not you, Doc," he said.
"But…" Reid had already had to fight hard for his right to come here; he didn't want to be left out of the rescue operation.
"You can't shoot properly with that hand," Dobson pointed out, gesturing to the bandage on Reid's wrist. "And no argument, I haven't got the time. Jensen, keep him out here."
Dobson jogged off to join the SWAT team, leaving Reid and Jensen standing side by side on the driveway.
"Come on," Jensen put her hand on Reid's arm. "We'll wait by the car."
He reluctantly followed her over to the SUV. Jensen opened the back door for him, wanting him to sit down, but Reid couldn't. He was too tense. He paced impatiently in a short loop by the car, his eyes never leaving the house, hanging on every word uttered by the disembodied voices on the radio.
"Team one in position."
"Team two in position."
"On my mark… three, two… one!"
"Did you hear that?" JJ asked, looking towards the ceiling.
"Hear what?" Hotchner asked, but no one had to answer as they could now all very clearly hear the sounds of running footsteps and gunshots. They looked at each other. Was this a good thing or a bad?
"Target one subdued."
"Target two under control."
The sound of gunfire made Jensen pull Reid with her behind the car, just in case a stray bullet made it their way. Behind the car Reid stood, nervously balancing on the balls of his feet, staring at the house.
"Target three down."
There was a pause, too long for Reid's comfort.
"Hostages secured."
Reid put a hand over his mouth and bounced on his toes. They had found them!
The radio chatter continued, professionally cool and calm.
"Target four under control."
"Upstairs clear."
"Downstairs clear."
"Basement clear."
"Someone check the suspects for a key, would ya? And if you don't find one, someone bring down a bolt cutter."
"Found a key. Coming to you."
"All clear."
"Building secure."
"Hostages safe, bringing them out now. Have paramedics standing by."
The two last communications were Reid's undoing. The underlying panic that had plagued him the last couple of days finally left him, but the urgency remained. He couldn't help himself, he started running, ignoring Jensen's cries for him to stop, easily overtaking the paramedics moving towards the house. At the front door he had to stop as to not run into Henry, being led out in handcuffs by Dobson and another agent. Reid just stared at him, none of the things he'd thought about, none of the things he'd wanted to say, coming to mind. Henry looked at him too, coldly and full of contempt, without the jovial mask he usually wore around the team and Reid realized that for the first time he could see the real Henry, the man capable of kidnapping an entire FBI team and deceiving everyone around him.
Having studied the blueprints of the house Reid knew exactly where he wanted to go. As soon as the doorway was clear he lurched into the house, raced through the living room and skidded to a halt in the kitchen as his team was climbing the basement stairs in a single file. Reid stood by the kitchen island, his hands pressed against the smooth wooden surface for support as he saw them all walk out on their own two feet. He breathed a sigh of relief and cleared his throat, his heart rate slowly returning to normal.
A black clad SWAT member was first up the stairs, then came Morgan. "Reid," he grinned as he saw the other agent standing there, staring at them. "This guy here," he nodded to the SWAT member, "says we owe our rescue to you. Thanks man. Not that I ever doubted you, you know."
Reid gave him a bleak smile as Morgan pounded him on the back. "Are you okay?" Reid asked. The puffy black eye he remembered from the photo was almost gone.
"I am now," Morgan said cheerfully.
Prentiss had come up right after Morgan. "Are you okay?" she asked Reid as she joined them. "You look a little pale."
"Just, you know, long hours…" He shrugged it off, but the sight of his two supposedly dead teammates made his heart soar. He'd known they couldn't be dead, he'd known it. He just hadn't been sure…
Gideon supported JJ up into the kitchen. JJ looked ridiculous in Gideon's too big sweater, its sleeves hanging down past her knuckles. She smiled at Reid as he moved up to them and put an arm around her waist, freeing Gideon up. JJ looked steady enough on her own feet, but if Gideon didn't want to risk her walking by herself, then neither would Reid. Gideon let go without comment.
Not usually one for physical displays of emotion, Reid in his overwhelming relief and joy of having found his team felt an overpowering urge to hug someone, and JJ's warm arm around his neck was comforting, attention seeking and very, very real. They had been found, they were here and they were okay. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that was hanging off his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately before once again turning his attention to the other team members.
"Are you okay?" Reid asked Gideon, taking in the small scabs peppered over the older man's face.
"I'm fine," Gideon said, stroking his face to show that it was nothing to worry about.
"And you?" Reid asked JJ, feeling her body sag slightly against his. He adjusted his hold to balance her better. She had a crude, bloodied bandage on top of her messy hair.
"Sure, just not that used to being vertical at the moment," she answered lightly, but a light sheen of sweat on her forehead belied her statement.
"Reid?"
Reid looked over his shoulder, seeing Hotchner standing on the top step and realized he was blocking the way. "Oh, sorry." He smiled sheepishly and led JJ forward with small careful steps to make sure she stayed with him. "They've got paramedics waiting for you out front. You okay?"
Hotchner nodded and to his surprise Hotchner then grabbed a hold of Gideon's arm and supported him as he limped out of the kitchen. Reid had assumed that Gideon had been supporting JJ up the stairs, but maybe it had been a joint effort.
With JJ's arm curled around his neck and an impossibly big smile he trailed after his team out of their prison and into the fresh air.
The team stood gathered closely together by the open back doors of an ambulance. JJ was already on the gurney, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and the others were squabbling gently about whether or not they thought they needed to go to the hospital.
Gideon, not partaking in the good-natured bickering, turned to Reid. "How did you find us?"
The others quieted and looked expectantly at Reid.
"Yeah," Morgan said. "What was Caswell's deal?"
Reid scratched his elbow, pondering how much to information to give them now. "Do you remember Daniel Walker?" he asked cautiously.
Prentiss looked blank, but the rest showed different stages of recognition and surprise.
"The Texan billionaire?" JJ asked, her voice full of confusion.
Reid nodded. "He owns this house, or his company does anyway. Henry works for him and I'm pretty sure he takes his orders directly from him. But we found you thanks to JJ." He smiled at her and explained, "The license plate number. The car that was used to drive you off the road was also registered to Walker's company. I just put two and two together and found this house in the paper trail."
At that moment Dobson walked up to the team and interrupted Reid's explanations.
"Jason," he said with a nod to Gideon.
"Simon," Gideon acknowledged him.
"It's good to see all of you in one piece."
"Thanks for the rescue, man." Morgan said, sitting on the floor of the ambulance, his feet hanging out.
Reid got up close to Dobson. "Well? Did you talk to him?" He spoke rapidly. "Henry, I mean. What did he say? Are you satisfied yet?" Reid's last act before they left Quantico had been to pull Garcia's photo down from the white board where Dobson had been lining up suspects. She didn't belong there and Reid could finally do something about it.
"Yeah, I talked to him," Dobson said, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "Looks like you were right all along, Doc. I've already made the calls and set the ball rolling. We can go get her whenever you want."
"Now," Reid said immediately. "I want to go now." Garcia should never have been incarcerated, and every minute she had to spend in there was a violation. He wanted to get her out, sooner rather than later. "I'll meet up with you at the hospital later, okay?" he said turning back to the rest of the team.
"Where are you going?" Prentiss asked.
"To get Garcia out of jail."
"What?" Morgan exploded, standing up. "What's she doing in jail?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you knew," Reid said slightly taken aback. It had been on the forefront of his mind for days now and he was so used to be the one who knew the least. It was hard to imagine that the others hadn't known as well. "I thought he would've bragged about it or taunted you with it."
"That who would have bragged about what?" Gideon asked patiently.
"Henry. He framed Garcia. He planted evidence on her computer to make it look like she was a part of the kidnappings. Dobson had her arrested two days after Hotch was taken."
"And you fell for it?" Morgan roared at Dobson. This was worse than he'd imagined when he'd thought about what Henry might have done to Garcia. He was ready to do battle with someone, Dobson being conveniently close at hand, but Hotchner held him back with a hand on his chest.
"Calm down, Morgan."
"Hey," Dobson defended himself. "When you see the evidence I was presented with, you'll see that I did the right thing. Come on, Doc, we'll take my car."
"No, I think I'll take my own car," Reid said quickly. "I doubt she'll want to ride with you."
"I'm coming with you," Morgan said decisively.
"No, you need to go to the hospital," Reid said, backed up by Hotchner.
"It's procedure, Morgan," Hotchner said. "Reid can handle this."
"Okay, but call me as soon as…" Morgan trailed off. "Wait, I don't have a phone."
"I'll meet up with you at the hospital as soon as I can, okay?" Reid promised. "And if Garcia's up to it, I'll bring her by too."
"If she's up to it?" JJ asked. She had followed the conversation horrified.
"She's not doing well," Reid said. "Between worrying about you, being a suspect and Henry's betrayal she's done for. Listen, I've really gotta go."
"Yes, go, go," Morgan urged him on. "Come back as soon as you can."
***
It was almost midnight before all the paperwork had made its way through the proper channels and Garcia was allowed out into the waiting room where Reid and Dobson were impatiently waiting.
"Ms. Garcia, I'm here to apologize-" Dobson started, but Garcia cut him off without so much as a glance and walked straight up to Reid with a dogged face.
"Are they okay?" she asked anxiously. "Are they free?"
"Yes, we found them, they're fine," Reid said. "Prentiss and Morgan are still alive, they all are. They're over at the hospital, but everything looks good."
With her hands pressed to her chest, Garcia heaved a sob of relief, but then her face fell again. "And Henry?"
"He was found in the house where Morgan and the others were being held. He's been arrested. I'm sorry." Reid took a step towards Garcia, but she stepped back and turned away from them.
"I can't believe it," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.
Reid hovered uncertainly behind her, a hand that he didn't really dare put on her back raised in the air. "Do you… do you want to swing by the hospital? I know Morgan wants to see you. They all do."
Garcia shook her head. "I don't want to see anyone. I just want to go home."
"Of course," Reid readily agreed. "If that's what you want. I… You're okay, right? I mean, you're not hurt?"
"No," she whispered with closed eyes. "I just want to go home."
"Okay, come on, I'll take you," Reid said, finally letting his hand rest on her shoulder.
She pulled away from the touch as if she'd been burned and turned to face him. "No," she said harshly.
"No?" Reid blinked in confusion.
"No, I don't want you to." Her eyes fluttered around the room nervously. "I mean, I'm sure Agent Dobson can drive me home."
Dobson looked surprised. "Of course. If that's what you want."
"But…" Reid started, confused.
"No, no, you go… uh, you go back to the hospital, all right? I just want to be alone."
Reid tried to catch her eyes but she wouldn't look at him, so he looked down in the floor as to not make her any more uncomfortable.
"Okay," he answered reluctantly, wanting to respect her wishes. After what she'd gone through she deserved that integrity, even if he didn't think she should be alone right now.
"Ms. Garcia?" Dobson held his hand towards the door. "We can leave whenever you want to."
Reid walked quietly two steps behind Dobson and Garcia out through all guard stations they had to pass and on to the parking lot. Even though it was dark he could still see the charred ground where the car had burned two days ago. The asphalt where it had stood was dented and cracked. He passed the spot where Lee had died with a shudder. If there was still blood on the ground it wasn't visible in the dark, but Reid would always remember the exact spot where a good man had died protecting him.
He stood aside as Garcia and Dobson got into Dobson's car. As the car backed out of the parking space, Reid caught sight of Garcia looking at him through the passenger side window. He raised his hand in farewell.
She looked away.
When Reid stepped into the hospital waiting room, most of his team was already there, huddled together in the middle of the room.
Reid looked around at the disheveled BAU agents. "Have you all been released?" He looked at the brace on Gideon's knee and the crutches leaning against the chair next to him.
"Yeah, apparently we're all fine," Morgan said dryly. "We're just waiting for word on JJ."
Here, under the fluorescent lights in the sterile environment, Reid thought his friends looked even worse than when he'd seen them at the house. They all had deep, dark shades under their eyes, black fingernails, bloodshot eyes and matted, knotted and unruly hair. Scraggly beards clung to the men's faces and Prentiss' makeup had been washed off long ago. Their clothes were dirty, sweat stained and rumpled. Add to that various cuts, bruises and spots of dried blood on their clothes and it was a miserable picture. But most of all they looked worn, worn out and tired.
"What's in the bags?" Prentiss asked eyeing the take out paper bags Reid was carrying.
"Huh?" Reid looked down at the load he was carrying in his arms. "Oh. I just picked up some food."
"What kind of food?" she asked greedily.
"Just sandwiches. And coffee." He held out the Styrofoam tray with the cups on it.
"Oh, bless you!" Prentiss all but tore the bags out of his hands and Hotchner freed him from the coffee.
Morgan was looking over Reid's shoulder impatiently. "Where's Garcia? Isn't she with you? Is she okay?"
"No." Reid avoided Morgan's eyes. "She- she wasn't feeling well. She wanted to go home. Dobson drove her."
"You didn't take her yourself?" Morgan was surprised.
"She didn't want me to. She just wanted to go home and be left alone."
"And you let her?" Morgan realized that he'd sounded more accusatory than he'd meant to.
"She doesn't want me there, Morgan," Reid said dully. It would have sounded pugnaciousif he hadn't been so tired. "Why don't you give it a try? I'm sure she'd love to see you, but she doesn't want me there."
"Why, what happened between you two?" Prentiss asked with a confused frown. From what she'd seen of Garcia and Reid during her short time on the team, she thought they seemed like quite good friends, even if she thought that Garcia often mothered Reid.
Reid grimaced. "I had to tell her something she didn't want to hear."
"About Henry?" Morgan guessed with clenched fists.
"Yeah," Reid said. "I guess… I guess sometimes it's just easier to blame the messenger." He sat down on an orange plastic chair next to Gideon, his head falling forward between his hunched, tense shoulders.
"Hey, man. You okay?" Morgan asked, his hand landing on Reid's shoulder.
"Just tired, I guess," Reid said listlessly.
"You know, she doesn't really blame you," Prentiss tried to comfort him. "It's just a defense mechanism."
"Maybe," Reid said. "But I wouldn't blame her if she did. She got sent to prison and she trusted me to help make things right, but I couldn't get her out. And then I had to call her, in prison nonetheless, and tell her that her boyfriend had betrayed her and then I had to leave her all alone in there with that knowledge. I was the only one on her side and the only thing I ever did was make things worse."
"No, Reid, no." Both Morgan and Prentiss tried to console him.
Gideon calmly put a hand on Reid's arm. "What could you have done differently?"
"I don't know," Reid shrugged. "Tried harder, worked faster, found you faster… broken her out of jail maybe." He gave them a shy smile.
"You've had to carry a big load on this one," Hotchner said. "But you did well. You found us, didn't you?"
"Not very fast, though," Reid said dejectedly.
"It was fast enough," Gideon said. "We're all alive, that's what counts. Reid, at the house you said that Daniel Walker was behind all this. I would like to hear more about that. Why did he do it? And how did you figure it out? Have you talked to him? Do you have enough evidence against him?"
"Other than that investigating his relation to Henry led me directly to you?" Reid asked rhetorically. "No. No, I don't. It's more... instinctual. But I have… well, I'll show you my material later."
Gideon and Hotchner looked at each other with raised eyebrows. The fact that Reid had spoken in first person singular didn't escape either of them. And since Reid wasn't one to put himself forward... Hadn't Reid had any help with the investigation? And then there was the comment the SWAT team had made while they'd unlocked their chains, about it being thanks to Reid they had been found. What had Dobson's team been doing? But Reid didn't seem up to more questioning right now. Maybe it would be better to ask Dobson directly.
"Reid?" Hotchner asked instead. "Do you know what happed to Miller and Marcus?"
Reid had to think for a minute as his mind wasn't alert enough to be thrown between topics without warning. He'd pulled an all-nighter last night, and tonight didn't look like it would be over any time soon either.
"Yeah, uh- Miller was shot in the shoulder, he's going to be fine, he's been discharged already. Marcus is somewhere here at the hospital. He was shot in the stomach and was in critical condition for awhile, but he's going to be fine too. He was moved out of ICU this morning. You should go see him."
"It's two o'clock in the morning," Hotchner reminded him gently. "I'll go see him later today, during visiting hours."
"Oh, right," Reid brought his arm up and looked at his watch. "I hadn't realized it was that late."
"Hey, what happened here?" Morgan took Reid's arm in his hands and pushed at the sleeve to get a better look at the bandage.
"What?" Reid looked surprised and then pulled on his arm and grimaced. "Oh, that."
"So… what happened?" Prentiss asked when Reid didn't make any attempts at explaining the presence of the bandage.
"It's nothing, it's just a sprain," Reid shrugged. "They tried to grab me on Wednesday, but it didn't work. I'm fine, but…"
Gideon and Hotchner exchanged looks over Reid's bent head. Something was wrong.
"Reid?" Gideon asked carefully. "What happened?"
"There was an explosion. They blew up our car…" Reid said quietly, his head still bent. "Lee died…"
"Who's Lee?" Morgan asked bewildered.
"His bodyguard," Hotchner answered in Reid's place.
"Jeez, kid," Morgan said, squatting in front of Reid's seat and putting a hand on his knee. "You've really had it rough, haven't you?"
Reid smiled bleakly. "I'm guessing your week hasn't been a picnic either. How was it in there? Did they at least treat you okay?"
"Yeah," Morgan admitted grudgingly. "As kidnappings go, I guess it wasn't too bad. It could've been a lot worse."
A doctor came into the waiting room and looked around. "Who's here for Jennifer Jareau?"
The team immediately got onto their feet.
"We are," Hotchner said. "We're her team. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner." He then quickly introduced the rest of them and the doctor nodded at all of them.
"How is she?" Prentiss asked.
The doctor took one look at their collected bedraggled state and decided to keep it short. "As I'm sure you've already suspected she's suffered a pretty bad concussion, but in the days since it occurred, it has pretty much healed itself will be putting her through a cat scan and an MRI to make sure there are no fractures or intracranial bleeding. In addition to that we're fighting an infection caused by the untreated wound with strong antibiotics and we're also treating her for slight dehydration and malnourishment. We'll be keeping her overnight and probably tomorrow too, but I'm not worried. She's asleep right now, you can come back and see her in the morning."
Relieved smiles showed on everyone's faces, but before anyone could comment, the outer doors of the waiting room opened and Haley stood in the doorway, with sleep-tussled hair and a rain coat. She looked around, her eyes quickly focusing on her husband, who, during the circumstances, didn't look too bad. She walked straight into his waiting arms, her nose crinkling a little at the smell of his body, but that didn't stop her from desperately clinging to him. No words were needed, they had been to together too long for that.
The others turned away respectfully, giving them their much needed moment together. "Come on," Reid said to the others. "I've got the car outside, I'll take you home."
***
Morgan knocked on Garcia's door and waited impatiently. He could see a splotch of light coming through the peephole, so he knew she was still awake, even though it would soon be morning again. When the light was blocked out he smiled and waved. He heard chains rattle and shivered at the metallic sound, scolding himself for letting something so small get to him. A second later the door was thrown open and with an unarticulated cry Garcia threw herself around his neck.
"Hey princess," Morgan said as he slowly had the breath squeezed out of him.
"Morgan! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said, hugging her back fiercely, then reaching up to pull a strand of wet hair out of his mouth. "It's you I'm worried about. Reid said you haven't been doing so well."
Those words had a very sobering effect on Garcia. She pulled back from him and turned to go back into the apartment. She was wearing green, checkered flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers and she had a towel wrapped around her shoulders, her hair hanging wet and dark over it.
"Whatever could've given him that idea," she said bitterly as Morgan followed her into the living room.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" Morgan asked. "Physically, I mean. Reid told me you were locked up."
Garcia detoured into her small kitchen area, picked up a spoon from the drainer and gave it to Morgan before going back into the living room. She gestured towards a large tub of chocolate ice cream standing on the coffee table, her own spoon sticking up from it. "Help yourself. And I'm fine. I was only locked up for three days. It must've been much worse for you. You spent a week in… in… oh, I'm so out of the loop. Where were you? What happened to you?"
They'd sat down sideways on the couch, facing each other and Garcia reached up and gently put her hand on the side of Morgan's head. The lump had healed during the week he'd been kidnapped. The area was still a little tender, but he didn't pull away from her touch.
"I'm okay," he assured her again. "They didn't hurt us. We were kept in a basement, but we had food, running water and blankets. We did okay."
"Good, I'm glad." Garcia took her hand away, put the ice cream tub in her lap and aggressively attacked it, keeping her eyes averted from him.
"I can't believe he did this to me," she started angrily, obviously understanding why Morgan had come looking for her in the middle of the night. She viciously stabbed the spoon into the ice cream.
"I know," Morgan said, his eyes following the spoon. "It's hard to understand, but you've got to realize that it's not your fault."
"I mean, I finally find someone decent, someone good, and then he goes and does something like this," Garcia continued her rant as if she hadn't heard Morgan. It sounded as if she was rehashing an old argument, one that she'd probably been having with herself for a while now.
Morgan shared her wrath. "I know. Let me tell you, if I could get just my hands on him-"
"Why do you think he did it?" Garcia interrupted him. "Just to hurt me? I always thought I could trust him."
"You know, I honestly don't think it had anything to do with you at all," Morgan said. "It was just part-"
"I mean," Garcia interrupted him again. "Just because Henry went to my office once in awhile, Reid just decided out of the blue that he had to be the culprit."
"I know, I- wait. Are you talking about Reid?" Morgan was surprised. "Are you mad at Reid?"
"Yes! Who did you think I was talking about?"
"Henry of course," Morgan said. "He did kidnap us, you know."
Garcia looked blankly at him for a moment, then she shook her head and looked away. "No... You see, just because he was... no. I don't want to talk about Henry."
"Garcia, yes," Morgan leaned forward and took her hand, making sure she was looking him in the eyes. "Yes he did. I saw him, I talked to him, there's no doubt, no question about it. Henry used you to get to us, to get access to our systems and to frame you as a diversion so you wouldn't find us. Reid's not at fault here. He saved us. All of us... you too."
"But..."
"No buts, sweetheart. I'm sorry, but it's what happened. And it's not fair to be mad at Reid."
"I know," she said quietly, looking down at their intertwined hands.
"You know?"
"Yes, of course I know, I'm not stupid." She sounded irritated, but Morgan squeezing her hands calmed her down. "I just can't help how I feel. And the fact that I know I'm not supposed to feel this way, makes me feel even worse. But I suppose I've known ever since Reid called me. I've had a lot of time to think, you know, and I know that Reid would never tell me something like that without being sure." She let go of his hands and wrung her own hands together without looking at him. "All those times he came to my office, all those questions he asked... It all looks so different in hindsight. I just didn't want it to be true."
"So you decided to be mad at Reid instead?"
"I didn't decide to be angry with him, I didn't want to be angry with him, but… well... it came so easily." She kept looking down, ashamed.
"Garcia, honey, you know why you're angry with him, don't you?" Morgan bent his head and peered at her face.
She nodded and laughed mirthlessly. "Yes. I must've been hanging around you lot too much if I can make snap psychological diagnoses. It's because I can't be mad at Henry... not without being angry with myself," she said quietly. "I'm the one who let him in. I let him dupe me... and he took it out on you. If I stop being mad at Reid then I'm going to start being mad with myself. Why did I let him do that to me? To us?"
"It wasn't your fault any more than it was Reid's," Morgan said. "There was no reason to suspect Henry. You should never have to suspect your boyfriend for something like that. It's not in our nature. There's no need for you to feel stupid or foolish, it wasn't your fault."
"That doesn't help." She looked up with watering eyes. "I still feel stupid."
"I know. But given time, we'll fix that." Morgan took the ice-cream tub out of her lap and pulled her into his arms. "We'll fix everything." It was probably too big of a thing to promise so rashly, but he truly wanted to make everything right for her.
Garcia let herself be held for a few moments before pulling back. "It's still so strange to think about. After you and Prentiss had been kidnapped, I stayed with Henry, to be safe… Ironic isn't it? But even though I was upset about you guys being missing, it still felt so right. And we started talking about moving in together. I thought we were going to move in together. I thought we were-" Her voice broke. "I thought-"
"It's okay," Morgan said, stroking her cheek.
"He was always so attentive, so loving," she said, biting her lip. "I never suspected a thing. Do you think he cared about me at all? Even just a little?"
Morgan smiled at her. "It's hard to imagine anyone knowing you without loving you."
She smiled back. "You're sweet. But all this time… all this time… We'd made plans, lots of plans. Did you know that Henry and I were going to go sailing next summer."
"You don't sail."
"No, but Henry does. He loves it. And I wanted to love it because he loves it. God, Morgan, how could I have been this stupid? Am I really that gullible? A man whispers sweet nothings in my ear and I throw all caution to the wind." She sounded bitter, stabbing her spoon into the softening ice cream again, leaving crescent shaped indentations in the chocolate treat. "Or maybe he doesn't sail at all. How do I know what's true or not? Was everything a lie? I need to know if it was all a lie."
Morgan didn't know how to answer that.
"I've been thinking about whether or not I should go see him," Garcia continued. "I don't think I want to see him ever again. Do you think I should go see him?"
"You'll have to decide that for yourself, pumpkin," Morgan said sympathetically.
"I don't want to see him, I don't. It's just that…" She trailed off, staring into space.
"Just what?"
She looked back at him "I kind of want to have a fight with him," she confessed.
"A fight?" Morgan looked surprised.
"Yeah, because… because the last time I saw him he was the sweetest boyfriend you could imagine, then out of the blue, Reid calls and tells me he's a… well, a bad guy. It's like… I don't know, I don't want my last memory of him to be a happy one. I want to have a fight, so it feels like we're broken up. 'Cause we've never had a fight and I don't feel broken up. I just feel abandoned."
"I guess that makes sense," Morgan said. "You'll see him at the trial though."
"Right, the trial," Garcia looked scared. "I'll have to testify, won't I? I hadn't even thought about that. To busy thinking about my own trial I suppose. You know, for kidnapping you."
"No one believes that any more, sweetheart," Morgan comforted her. "Not even Dobson. Reid changed his mind."
"Right, Reid…" Garcia looked guilty.
"But next time you've got a date, please let us run a background check on him, okay?" Morgan joked, or rather half-joked.
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Garcia said with a bitter laugh. "I'm done with men, no more dating."
Morgan frowned, he hadn't intended for his joke to evoke that kind of reaction. Maybe it was too soon for jokes. "No, Garcia, that's not the way to go," he said. "Come on, I know you feel hurt now, but you can't give up on life. You'll find some great guy down the line, don't deny yourself that experience because of what this creep did to you."
"I don't think I'll ever be able to trust anyone again," Garcia confided in him. "I'll always be questioning their intentions."
"You know," Morgan said thoughtfully. "I think you should go to Reid about this."
"What?" Garcia looked shocked. "You think I should date Reid? I mean, I like him and all, but going out with him-"
"No," Morgan laughed. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I just thought that if he was the one who told you just how statistically improbable it is that something like this will ever happen to you again, then you'll believe him."
She smiled bleakly. "I wonder if we'll ever be friends again."
Morgan looked surprised. "You and Reid? Of course you will. Why wouldn't you?"
"Because… I mean, I realize that Henry betrayed me and that he needed to be found out in order for you to be saved, but I still can't help but feel that Reid was the one who betrayed me. He took Henry away from me. First he got me doubting Henry and I hated him for that, and then when it turned out that he was right all along… I still didn't want to believe it. I'm still really conflicted. I still miss Henry. I hate what he did to you, but I can still remember the good times, you know? Like the sailing and the plans to move in together. I invested so much of my life in him these past months; I really thought I was planning for the future. I can't just turn that off like a faucet. And Reid… When they picked me up from the prison tonight, I could see that he felt sorry for me, and that annoyed me. What right does he have to pity me? I know he did what he had to do and I know that he was right and Henry was wrong, but it still feels like both of them betrayed me. And now I'm hurting him... I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to talk to me again."
"Reid doesn't hold grudges, Garcia. If you just explained to him-"
"Explain what? That I'm sorry you were right, but I just can't like you right now?"
"He'll understand," Morgan said. "He understands more than we think... emotionally I mean. We know he understands everything else."
She smiled bleakly at the joke.
"But I don't think you'll get over this by sitting at home and dwelling on it," Morgan continued. "Let us help you. Let Reid help you. He's quite upset by this too, you know, and he feels guilty. And he might not say anything, but he misses you. He wants to makes things right between you two. He's still your friend."
"If it were only that easy," Garcia sighed. "But I suppose I should talk to him tomorrow."
"Or now," Morgan said. "He's waiting downstairs."
"Downstairs?" Garcia looked puzzled.
"Yeah," Morgan said. "He volunteered to drive all of us home. Well, except for Hotch. Haley picked him up, and JJ, she has to stay at the hospital. I told him I was coming here as soon as I'd gone home and showered and changed, so he said he'd stick around, drive me here too. I told him to come up with me, but he didn't think he'd be welcome, so he's waiting in the car."
He gave her a moment and watched the change in her demeanor as she plucked up the courage to face one of her demons.
"Well, there's no time like the present I guess," she sighed. "Okay, call him, tell him to come u- wait, what did you say about JJ? Reid said you were all fine!"
The ringing cell phone woke Reid with a start. For a moment he outright panicked before he realized that while he was sitting behind the steering wheel of a car, fast asleep, the car wasn't actually moving. He unclenched his panicked fingers from the steering wheel and fumbled in his pocket for the phone as he willed his heart back into its normal rhythm.
"Hello?" he said groggily.
"Were you sleeping?" Morgan asked, amused.
"No," Reid lied.
"You're supposed to be my designated driver, you know."
"You're not drunk."
"I know. Too bad."
When Reid had stopped in front of Morgan's apartment earlier that night he'd briefly wondered if anyone had ever gotten around to clean the place up like Garcia had wanted. In the car Morgan had said that he was just going to shower and change and then he would head over to Garcia's place, even if it was in the middle of the night. Reid had, even though he was just as tired as the rest of them, immediately offered to stay and wait and then drive Morgan to Garcia's apartment. He didn't know why Morgan had accepted.
The place hadn't been cleaned, but Morgan didn't comment on the state of his home. While he showered, Reid did his best to sweep up. That had earned him a questioningly and somewhat amused look which he had answered with a sheepish smile, before they started off to Garcia's place.
There Reid had opted to stay in the car with some feeble excuses. He didn't want to let on how much her earlier rejection had hurt and had dreaded an angry and embarrassing confrontation if he'd gone up. Instead he'd waited in the car… and fallen asleep.
Reid yawned, widely enough to make his ears pop. "Are you finished?"
"Not quite. Come up."
"What?"
"Come on up. Garcia wants to see you."
Reid hesitated. "Are… are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. Now get your butt up here before I have to come down and get you."
Reid stood nervously in front of Garcia's front door, shifting his feet, unsure what to expect on the other side of the door. He knew he couldn't wait too long to knock. They were expecting him after all. When he finally did knock, it was Morgan who opened.
"Come in, sit down," he said. "You want ice cream?"
Reid looked at the soggy remains on the coffee table and shook his head. His throat was too tight to eat anything. He sat down on the edge of an armchair while Morgan sat on the couch with Garcia leaning into him. Reid couldn't help but wonder whether she was simply leaning into Morgan for comfort, or if she was actually leaning away from him. He didn't know where to look.
"I'm not mad at you, Reid," Garcia started.
"You're not?" He looked hopefully at her.
"Well, actually I am, but it's not really you, you know. It is just…"
"Displacement," Reid said quickly. "It's not uncommon, it's a subconscious-"
"Reid," Morgan interrupted him. "Not now."
"Sorry, I- sorry."
There was an uncomfortable silence before Reid found his voice again. "Garcia, you've got to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't want it to be him either, I wanted to be wrong, but it was him and I had to act on that. And I understand how it might look like I betrayed you, but I couldn't not do anything. I had to… I had to make that sacrifice for the collective good. There was nothing else to do. It wasn't like he was really your boyfriend or anything, at least not on his part. He wouldn't have stayed with you if his plans had worked." He suddenly stopped himself, realizing that what he'd said had probably sounded callous. "I mean…"
"I know," Garcia said quietly. "I know all that. And I'll deal with it, I promise. Just…"
"Just not right now," Reid said.
"I want to," Garcia said. "But…"
"It's okay," Reid said. "I can wait." But he looked so dejected, it almost made Garcia cry.
Morgan took his arm away from around Garcia's shoulders and leaned forward. "Reid, it wasn't your fault. You've gotta remember that you're just as much of a victim in this as the rest of us."
Reid looked up, surprised. "But I-"
"Weren't kidnapped?" Morgan asked. "No, but you were supposed to be. And you had to sit and watch all of us disappear without knowing if we were dead or alive. You were in an explosion and watched a good man die and Dobson and his team were basically working against you, right? You must've felt terribly alone."
"I-" Reid's shoulders hunched further and he buried his face in his hands, drawing a couple of shaky breaths before looking up again, exhaustion and sadness marring his features. "I did what I had to do, that's all."
"Okay, now." Garcia suddenly said, sitting up.
Morgan and Reid looked bewildered at her. "Now what?" Morgan asked.
"I'm over it now," she said, looking at Reid. "It's passed. I'm not mad at you anymore. I forgive you."
"But…" Reid looked at her, wide-eyed. "It doesn't work like that. You can't just say you're over it and expect it to be over."
"Yes, I can," Garcia said stubbornly. "I'm not going to let what Henry did affect me anymore. I won't allow it. And I'm not going to take it out on you. Now come here and give me a hug." She stood up and held her arms out to him.
But Reid shook his head. "No, there isn't an easy fix for this. Saying you're over it doesn't make it true, especially if you're just doing it because you feel sorry for me and you know it. There are no shortcuts."
Garcia's lower lip trembled a little as she let her arms sink down to hang at her sides. "But I don't want you to have to feel bad because of my hang-ups. I want us to be okay."
"I do too," Reid assured her. "And we will be, when we've worked it through and when you are truly ready. For now, just knowing that you are willing to work towards that, that's enough for me. We'll be okay, in time. I promise." This time it was he who held his arms out to her and he was grateful when she stepped into them.
"In time," she whispered in his ear.
"In time," he whispered in hers.
***
Morgan didn't know if it was the pain in his neck that had woken him up or the fact that he couldn't feel his legs anymore. What he did know was that this wasn't how he'd planned on spending his first night of freedom. Opening his eyes he found himself staring sideways at a lampshade, which would explain the pain in his neck, he thought as he lifted his head that had slipped off the couch and turned it to the front again. There he was treated to the sight of Reid, sprawled over the armchair in a fashion that made him look part man, part insect. His mouth was open and his head tilted back. Morgan smiled malevolently. He wouldn't be the only one with a crick in his neck today. Looking down at his legs he found Garcia curled up like a kitten with most of her upper body in his lap. She was still wearing her glasses, he noted. Sunlight was streaming into the room and Morgan squinted to see a watch. 12.34 p.m. He hadn't slept that long since his college days. But then again, they hadn't fallen asleep until after dawn.
He didn't remember falling asleep. They'd just sat there, talking about anything and everything, leaving the difficult subjects behind them and moving on to office gossip and other normal subjects as they became more relaxed in each other's company. He didn't remember who'd first succumbed to sleep. The last thing he remembered was seeing the sun creep up over the rooftops outside Garcia's window.
The shrill signal from a cell phone woke Reid and his body jerked in a comical fashion that almost made him fall out of the chair. Reid searched his bag frantically for his phone, but before he could quiet it Garcia was already stretching in Morgan's lap, once again reminding him of a cat.
"Morning," Morgan said to Garcia who was blinking at him while Reid had risen and stood by the window with his back to the room and talked on the phone.
"Morning," Garcia said with a thick voice. "Why are we sleeping on the sofa when there's a perfectly good bed in the next room?"
"I have no idea," Morgan answered, rubbing his neck and helping Garcia sit up.
"Actually, I can do that, sir," Reid said, turning around and running a hand through his hair, wincing as it got caught in a knot. "He's here with me… uh-huh… no, her too actually. Yes, I'll tell them. We'll be in in about an hour." He hung up and grimaced. "That was Dobson, he wants all of us at the office as soon as possible."
"Why?" Garcia asked, understandably suspicious.
"Well, he wants my report, he wants Morgan's statement and you have a meeting with the legal department."
"The legal department?" Garcia looked surprised. "Why?"
"They probably want to make sure that you're not planning on suing them for wrongful imprisonment," Morgan said.
"Oh. Oh! I hadn't even thought about that," Garcia said with wide eyes. "Should I?"
"No one would blame you if you did," Morgan said. "I guess we'd better go get it over it."
"I'll go get dressed," Garcia said.
"We're going to have to stop for breakfast on the way," Reid called after her. "Or rather lunch," he amended once he'd looked at his watch.
"Oh, hamburgers," Garcia suggested, popping her head out of the bedroom.
"Oh, separate cars," Morgan groaned.
The team slowly trickled in one by one during the day to write their statements, mostly to get them out of the way so they could start putting this horrible week behind them. Only JJ didn't show. She had, despite heavy protests, been kept at the hospital and was under strict orders to stay in bed for the next couple of days.
The statements were given to Dobson, who, despite it turning out to have nothing at all to do with terrorism, was still credited as the lead agent on the case. Especially since both Hotchner and Gideon were considered victims in this case.
The next day Dobson set up personal interviews with the whole team, as a complement to the statements and then they were sent to see an in-house therapist before they were finally dismissed. After that Hotchner decided to give everyone the rest of the week off. He himself felt a strong need to spend some quality time in bed, preferably with Haley and Jack snuggled up close.
A week later, the BAU team gathered in the round table room first thing in the morning so that Hotchner could tell them everything Dobson, who had spent the week sorting through the evidence found in the house, had told him.
He looked around at his team. He'd been in contact with them during their leave, but this was the first time he'd seen them. They all looked rested, though perhaps not as well rested as he would've liked to see. But still, it was a nice change from the hollow-eyed and pale agents he'd sent home last week. All minor injuries had healed, and even JJ had gotten some color back in her cheeks.
"Good morning everybody," Hotchner said, looking his usual clean self. "It's nice to see you all look so well. JJ, what did the doctors say?"
"I'm cleared for duty," she answered promptly. "They say I pretty much healed on my own while we were still held captive. I would've preferred to heal with the comfort of painkillers, but I guess you can't have everything." She smiled to show that while it was weak, it was an attempt at a joke.
"That's good," Hotchner said. "Now, we're here because Gideon and I had a rather long debriefing with Dobson yesterday and I wanted to share his findings with you."
"Where is Dobson?" Reid asked. He'd expected to see him for the briefing.
"He's gone back to anti-terrorism," Hotchner answered. "He said he wanted to put this behind him to start focus on real terrorist threats."
"Shall we start?" Gideon asked.
Hotchner nodded and opened the thick file lying in front of him on the table. "There was a lot of physical evidence against both Henry and the other three men in the house where we were being held. They had documented their plans extensively from day one. There were a lot of photos and written reports that showed that they have been following all of us for several months already. Their planning was quite ingenious actually, very elaborate. We know that Henry Caswell first met up with Garcia seven months ago, but this must have been at least a year's worth of planning."
Hotchner looked up, but as no one seemed very surprised he continued. "They had us numbered one through six, but only Morgan and Prentiss were locked as number one and two. Morgan was first because his apartment had the easiest access. We found a whole lot of plans concerning Elle that had been thrown out when she quit, so they had less surveillance on Prentiss than the rest of us, but once they noticed her midnight shopping habit, they decided that she would make an easy second target. After that they sent the first ransom note, which was written long in advance by Henry, who'd spent a couple of nights chatting up the leader of HBM to get a feel for his language. He also sent them an anonymous tip that the FBI would soon be paying them extra attention and that it would be a good idea to stay out of sight for a while, which is why Swartling had problems finding anyone to question. Oh, by the way, they had chosen the HBM as a scapegoat early on because of Donnie Nelson. They had researched all of us to find a good way in and when they figured out that Garcia had a cousin in prison on terrorist charges, they built their whole operation around that."
"Amazing," Garcia reflected. "I didn't even know I had a cousin who was a terrorist or in prison. They must be really good investigators."
Hotchner continued. "Knowing that we would want to question Nelson and Marquez as soon as possible, they timed the ransom note to a point of time when they knew there would be little traffic along the road out to Lincoln. There are no prison transports or visitors allowed on Sundays, so the road would be mostly deserted. They figured that by now we should be spooked enough to travel in pairs, so they expected to bag two of us, only they didn't know which two. Then they, and rightly so, figured that the two of us who were left would be put under protection and be kept apart as much as possible. By dictating the time and place for the phony prisoner exchange, which they had no intention of ever going through with it, they could time one of Henry's visits to Garcia so that he would have a maximum chance of seeing the plans. They counted on that at least one of us would insist on being there. They had trained for several scenarios for that kidnapping and simply chose the one that matched my position the best.
"Setting Garcia up as a scapegoat was a two-part plan. The first was to have the investigators looking in the wrong direction and cement the suspicions against HBM. The second reason was that the discovery of Garcia's perceived betrayal was timed so that whoever was left, number six, would be alone and that he would go see her at the prison out of duty. They couldn't predict if number six would believe that Garcia was guilty or not, but they figured that either way he would go see her, either to yell at her or out of sympathy. They had researched which prisons it was most likely Garcia would be sent to and had devised scenarios and getaway plans for all of them. Then-"
"Then," Reid interrupted him, "All they had to do was wait for me to call them and tell them exactly where I was going and when."
"You called them?" Morgan asked, surprised.
Reid shrugged. "Garcia asked me to call Henry and tell him what had happened, so of course I did. I told him which prison Garcia had been sent to and when I was planning to visit. I served myself up on a silver platter."
"But you got away," Prentiss pointed out.
"Yeah... not really my doing though."
Hotchner continued. "They'd been on alert from the moment Landon Jones showed Dobson the pictures he found on Garcia's computer. Apparently the program had a spyware in it that alerted Caswell that the files had been opened. But then Reid evaded capture and all of their plans fell apart. They hadn't counted on that, they'd probably gotten cocky with four successful operations. But now they had to make new plans, which, fortunately, gave Reid enough time to figure things out and find us. They were just about to finalize their new plans on how to get Reid. It was a very good thing that you found us when you did…"
"Why?" JJ asked. "What had they planned?"
Hotchner turned to Reid. "The day after you found us, two of them were supposed to transport us to a location that's only mentioned as 'location B' in their notes, and the third one was
scheduled for a morning flight to Las Vegas..."
Reid paled. "Mom?"
Hotchner nodded. "They figured that your mother's death would make you come running."
"It would have," Reid said, horrified. "How…?"
"Are you sure you want to know?" Hotchner asked.
Reid nodded.
"They had found a prescription drug," Gideon said, "That when combined with you mother's regular medicine has been known to induce heart attacks."
"Oh, god." Reid felt nauseous. So close and he hadn't even suspected…
JJ put her hand on his arm. "Don't think about it. You found us in time. You stopped them."
Hotchner looked at Gideon who nodded and then turned to Reid. "About that… When Hotch and I had the final briefing with Dobson yesterday he told us you found us pretty much single handedly."
"Yeah?" Reid said guarded.
"Yes," Hotchner confirmed. "He admitted that they had been wrong not to listen to you more."
"Dobson said that?" Morgan said surprised. "You must've really made an impression on him," he said, turning to Reid. "I've never known him not to take anything less than full credit on anything he's ever been even remotely involved in."
"It wasn't really their fault," Reid protested. "Sure, their stubbornness was frustrating, but in truth, I just had a different perspective, that's all. It was a cleverly designed ruse; they just followed the path staked out for them. The thing that went wrong for them, the kidnappers I mean, was that they didn't get me. If they had, then we would have all disappeared and Dobson's trail would've gone cold sooner or later. But since they didn't get me and because I refused to believe Garcia had anything to do with it, then I was deliberately looking for other solutions. If they hadn't framed Garcia, I probably wouldn't have found you either."
"But you were skeptical before that too," Garcia reminded him. "Remember, you said that it didn't feel like a terrorist act."
"I wasn't the only one who thought so," Reid pointed out. "Swartling also said it was uncharacteristic behavior for HBM."
"Yes," Gideon said. "But you were the only one who acted on it. Where they only saw illogical behavior, you saw an illogical situation and you thought outside the box."
"All in all," Hotchner said, "We have evidence to put Henry and the three henchmen in jail for a long time, even if the three of them were masked at the abductions and it's impossible to tell who did what, like who shot Miller and Marcus and who was just the driver."
"What about Walker then?" Reid asked.
Hotchner grimaced his displeasure. "He's been interviewed and was very friendly the whole time, but predictably he claims to know nothing about any of this. He says he barely remembers us and doesn't understand why we would think that he would have any interest in kidnapping us. And of course, nothing ties either Henry or Walker to HBM and Walker claims he's never heard of them either. He also said that while Henry did work for him, he's not to be blamed for his crimes. If a disgruntle mailman runs amok you don't blame the Postmaster General."
Several heads were turned his way at the cliché and he held up a hand. "His words, not mine. Walker hasn't stepped foot in D.C. in at least nine months. His subsidiary company, the one Henry works for, is in the process of opening up a factory in Virginia that will produce cell phone components. That factory is said to need more than 600 employees, so the local government doesn't take our meddling too kindly. According to Walker, Henry was moved here to oversee the practical details. Walker claims he bought the house in preparation for the commuteonce the factory is up and running. As his trusted employee Henry was given the keys to the house to oversee renovation and decoration. The other three men Walker claims never to have heard of, and that they must have been hired by Henry without him knowing about it. Walker says that if Henry thought he was acting on his orders, then something must be very wrong with him. But there's not one single piece of hard evidence suggesting that he was involved. The three henchmen have never even heard his name."
"Really?" Morgan interrupted. "Didn't one of them say that the boss was eager to meet us? They must've at least known that there was someone higher up than Henry that they were working for."
"Doesn't mean Henry had told them who it was," Prentiss said. "Some people don't care where the paycheck comes from as long as it's big enough."
Hotchner nodded. "And while we should be grateful that Henry immediately confessed to having framed Garcia and pretty much everything else we've put in front of him, he isn't giving us anything that could even implicate Walker. All we have are Reid's theories."
"Theories?" Reid looked up. "But-"
"Relax," Morgan said. "We believe you, remember?"
"But he's going to walk?" Reid asked.
"He walks," Hotchner confirmed solemnly. "He knew what he was doing and he played it smart. We can't get to him. But at least he can't try it again, then he'd be our prime suspect from day one." He closed he file to show that he had no more information to give and that the floor was open for discussion.
"It's kind of interesting though, isn't it?" JJ said. "That they made plans for Elle but then scrapped them when she quit?"
"Elle wasn't with us on that case in Texas either," Morgan pointed out. "The one where we first met Walker. She hadn't started yet."
"Maybe she became unworthy when she quit," Hotchner theorized, thinking of Reid's profile of Walker. "That to be on the team and stay on the team you have to be the best."
"But if they made Garcia such a big part of the plan, then why didn't they consider her part of the team?" JJ wondered.
"Simple," Garcia said. "Because I'm not the best. I might be a computer goddess, but there are some seriously gifted geniuses out there."
"And Walker probably employs half of them," Morgan said.
"Yeah," Garcia agreed. "They did figure out about Donnie. Not to mention how they moved money around to and from HBM's account."
"You would've figured it out too," Morgan assured her, "If you'd been spearheading the investigation. Even if you didn't remember him you would've understood it if you'd done a deeper background check."
They fell silent for a moment, but then Prentiss spoke up. "I wonder what Walker had planned to do with us. I wonder what would've happened to us if he's succeeded, if he'd gotten all of us where he wanted us."
Others nodded in agreement. They had wondered too.
"That's not what I'm wondering," Gideon said, his eyes on his own hands. They all looked at him questioningly, silently. He raised his eyes and met theirs.
"I'm wondering if he's done it before."
The End
A/N: I hate to disappoint all of you who were hoping that Dobson was one of the bad guys. He may be obnoxious and unbearably irritating, but he's actually a good guy and he means well, in his own way.
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