echoes still - part five
Title: echoes still: part five
Author: weaselett
Artist: pe1804
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Type: Gen, mentions of femslash and het: slightly AU from canon
Rating/Warnings: 15 (for descriptions of violence and some language)
Word Count for this part: 7,475
POV Characters: Ashley Seaver, Aaron Hotchner
Spoilers: Spoilers up to Season Six episode 10 (what happens at home).
Summary: There's a serial killer in New York, one who leaves no evidence behind at the crime scene and always seems to be one step ahead of the team investigating the murders. Their best chance seems to lie with the BAU, for whom the case brings back old memories. Written for casestory.
For full warning see masterpost here
New York, 2010
Ashley slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Mellie. It was morning; she wasn’t sure how early, but she could hear Morgan’s voice in the other room. She pulled on a pair of jeans, then stepped out of the bedroom; she could see Morgan pacing in front of the window.
She hesitated, weighing her options, before deciding that ultimately, sneaking around would be a bad idea. She moved into his line of sight and waved, earning a momentary frown before he picked up his coffee mug and waved it at her. She rolled her eyes, of course, she was young, blond and female, she would be happy to make him coffee while he got on with his business.
She watched him pace for a moment longer before she grabbed the mugs and headed for the kitchen. She rinsed the mugs out quickly before she refilled the kettle. Bread went into the toaster, and food went into Barnaby’s bowl.
Ashley lent against the side, there was a part of her that wanted to listen in on Morgan’s conversation, but she resisted the urge. It would be rude and she had no idea if it was even about her. For all she knew he had a girlfriend or wife he was talking to.
It didn’t take long for her to finish the coffees and dump the toast onto a plate, arranging it all onto a tray and carrying it out of the kitchen. Morgan was just hanging up as she rounded the corner, his expression grim.
She had a very bad feeling she knew what that meant.
“There’s been another murder,” Morgan said, looking up at her as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He only looked slightly rumpled after his night spent on the couch.
“Oh.” Ashley didn’t know what else to say. ‘Well now you know I’m not killing them’ was too cold, though she knew that there were people who would’ve said it. All that she could think was ‘oh God, no’.
Morgan nodded, “Yeah. Hotch said to tell you that you’re clear, and your family has been in L.A. the whole time.”
Ashley sighed. She lowered the tray to the table before rubbing the palms of her hands against her pyjama shorts. “I feel like I should apologise.”
Morgan shook his head, “I get that, I do, but you’ve got no reason to. It’s not your fault. Not your father, not this unsub.”
Ashley smiled, knowing it had a bitter edge, “You wasted time watching me, and the others must have spent time looking into my family, while the unsub was moving on to their next victim.”
“It happens.” Morgan said.
“Yeah,” Ashley ducked her head, “I guess that means you’ll be heading back to the field office.”
“And you’re coming with me.”
Ashley looked up at him, startled, “But I’m off the case, MacTaggart is probably going to enforce leave until the investigation is done. It would be a conflict of interest.”
Morgan’s eyebrows rose, “That depends, do you think your dad is innocent?”
That startled a laugh out of Ashley and she shook her head, “No. I know my father is guilty, I know he killed all of those women. He told me, after he was arrested.”
“And?”
Ashley frowned, “What?”
“That can’t be the only reason.” He sounded so certain, and Ashley wondered if there’d been a research project, interviewing the families of serial killers.
“Looking back, I can tell you all the times he did something that he showed us what he’d been doing, but we just didn’t notice.” Ashley shrugged, “I know it’s because we weren’t looking for it, not because we ignored it, but that doesn’t lessen the guilt.”
“You know your father better than any of us, even Hotch and Rossi,” Morgan held her gaze, his expression almost as intense as Hotchner’s tended to be, “that could help us a lot with this investigation.”
“I didn’t know how he killed. I didn’t know that the murderer I’ve been investigating for weeks was copying my father.” She argued.
“No, but you know his behaviour.”
Ashley sighed, shaking her head and looking away. “I’m not sure I’ll actually be helpful, but I’ll come with you to the field office.” It wasn’t worth arguing with him. They’d figure out how little she knew as soon as they started asking her questions, and then she’d get sent home again.
Her father had always been a stranger to her. He’d just become more of one when she’d found out that he was a serial killer.
Ashley had to resist the urge to shrink back into a corner as she stepped into the conference room. Rossi and Jareau were the only ones there, the others at the crime scene with Donavon and Daire, and they had both looked up from the files they’d been reading as she and Morgan entered.
They exchanged a look, and Morgan gave her a little push towards the table. She took a deep breath, and then moved, settling herself into one of the chairs opposite the others. Rossi gave her a look, one that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and she ducked her head.
Her emotions were everywhere, and she hated it.
She was aware of the three BAU agents discussing something quietly for a moment before silence fell. When she looked up, they each had work in front of them. She shifted in her seat, then turned to look at the case boards. The details of the last victim had been added to them, and Ashley clenched her fists as she took in the crime scene photographs.
She was still staring at the detail on the boards when the door opened and the rest of the BAU team entered, Donavon following behind. He offered her a smile and a wink, and took the seat beside her. She relaxed, and managed a smile in return. His support was enough to lessen the urge to run.
She could do this.
It took a moment, the various team members getting themselves sorted, pulling out notes from the new crime scene and grabbing drinks while they had a chance. Ashley was aware of Hotchner’s attention, as well as Reid’s, but she didn’t react to either.
It was Rossi who spoke to her first, once silence had fallen again, “There are a few questions we were hoping you could answer for us, Agent Seaver.” There was a tiny hesitation before he’d used her rank. She guessed that now he’d made the connection between her and the little girl he’d once met, he was struggling not to think of her as Ashley. She was grateful that he hadn’t said as much out loud.
“Agent Morgan explained.”
“Do you know if your father had any friends? Anyone he might have spoken to?” Prentiss asked.
“He didn’t really have any close friends that I know of.” Ashley shook her head, “There’s no one I can think of who he would have talked to, about anything. My mom always said he hadn’t been a talker, not about himself, and he was always vague about work.”
“You’re certain?” Prentiss asked.
Ashley sighed, “I really don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that you don’t already know. I mean, according to your profile of my father,” she looked at Rossi, “would he tell anyone about his crimes?” She was fairly sure that the answer was ‘no’, but she wasn’t a profiler and she really didn’t know all that much about the way serial killers thought.
Rossi shook his head, “No he wouldn’t, but we wanted to be sure.”
Ashley hesitated, glancing at Hotchner, “You think the unsub has spoken to my father?” It would make sense if that was the case, for them to want her insight, limited as she knew it to be. But it bothered her still. “Haven’t you asked him that yourselves?”
The room was silent for a long moment before Hotchner spoke, “We haven’t interviewed your father. He was never interested.”
“Why does that matter?” Ashley frowned, looking to each of them.
“We only interview criminals who agreed to be involved in our studies,” it was Reid who answered her, “we’ve found that we get more useful information if they participate willingly. They’re less likely to lie, and most of them who volunteer want to tell us about themselves.”
“Oh.” She felt silly, she should have guessed that. She was just so used to interviews being conducted, whether criminals were willing or not, but she guessed that once they were convicted, there wasn’t a need.
They seemed willing to let her process that, though she saw Morgan and Prentiss exchange a look. They were probably thinking that they had better things they could be doing. Actual leads to find. Though there was one she thought they didn’t seem to be following, “Maybe you should ask him now.”
“Ask him?” Reid stared at her and she frowned at him.
“My father. If they’re copying him, and I’m guessing using details that were never released, that means they’ve spoken to him, or they were involved in the investigation.” She looked from Hotchner to Rossi as she finished. Under different circumstances they could have been suspects, like her.
“Your father has refused to talk to us in the past.” Rossi answered, and Ashley nodded, she already had an answer to that problem.
“He’ll talk to me.”
It had taken almost an hour of discussion, but in the end it had been agreed that she and Agent Hotchner would head to Bismarck, and interview her father, while the others continued to work on what they could in New York. They had the two most recent victims to run background on.
Ashley hoped that they found something. She could feel the pressure; she knew, if she could get her father to open up to her, it would be the key to figuring out who the killer was; but that meant, if she couldn’t get him to talk, they would go back to having pretty much nothing.
Ashley shifted a little in her seat, her gaze wandering for the thirteenth time in as many minutes. She was sitting on the BAU’s jet, and she still couldn’t quite believe it. She’d expected to have to catch a train, or a commercial flight. She’d never been on a private jet before.
She glanced over her shoulder, towards the cockpit, taking in the sofa and the kitchen alcove. The seats were a lot more comfortable than she remembered from her flights to and from L.A., and there was actual leg room. She suspected that Reid and Hotchner were grateful for that, considering how many hours they had to clock up.
She started guiltily as Hotchner appeared, sliding into the seat on the other side of the table from her, setting a pile of files and a laptop down on the table top. He eyed her, and she was fairly sure he was laughing at her mentally. “We’ll be taking off soon.”
She nodded, attempting a smile, then turned her attention to the window; she didn’t look at him again until they were in the air. All she could see out of the window was the sky.
They watched each other in silence for a long moment, until he shifted, resting his arms on the table top, “I wanted to thank you.”
Ashley frowned. She wasn’t sure he really had a reason to thank her. It wasn’t like she’d told him anything he hadn’t already known, or wouldn’t have found out eventually. She’d seen the look he and Rossi had exchanged when she had told them that her father would talk to her. That was what they’d been hoping for.
It was the real reason that he’d asked Morgan to bring her back to the field office, and she wasn’t angry with him for that. Ultimately, they were both after the same thing.
“You don’t need to.” She jumped in, not wanting him to explain his reasons, she didn’t want to hear them. “It’s my job.” It is, it really is, but at the same time, it’s not her job that drives her. She had volunteered because she didn’t want any more women to die. This unsub had claimed enough lives.
Hotchner watched her for a long moment before he nodded, a silent agreement to let it go. “Our technical analyst is looking into everyone who lived in Mountrail County during the period your father was killing. She’s going to let us know if any of them moved to New York recently.”
Ashley nodded. That would be the Garcia Morgan had mentioned, during the drive to the field office, she assumed. “I hope she finds something.”
His laptop beeped before he could say anything in reply, and he opened it quickly, angling it so they could both see the screen. Ashley blinked in surprise as a video window popped up, showing the interior of an office and a smiling, red headed woman.
“Good morning, friends.” The woman was surprisingly cheerful in comparison to the profilers. Ashley couldn’t help but wonder how she managed it.
“Penelope Garcia.” Hotchner’s tone was warm, fond, “This is Agent Seaver.”
Garcia smiled brightly, waving, “Rossi told me to let you know what I’d found, about that thing you wanted me to look into.”
Ashley could tell the thing was something to do with her father. Something they hadn’t been sure she would like.
Hotchner glanced at her briefly before he nodded to Garcia, “Go on, Garcia.”
“According to the records, Charles Beauchamp has not had any visitors since his trial. A whole bunch of people have requested to see him, but he’s always refused, which is kinda unusual.”
“What about letters? Any kind of communication with the outside world?” Hotchner asked, leaning forward a little. Ashley bit her lip, remembering the pile of letters she had, stored away in a box at her mom’s.
“He gets letters, mostly from your typical disturbed groupies, some from the families of his victims, but he hasn’t answered any of them. He has, however, been writing to his family.” Garcia offered Ashley an apologetic look, “Who haven’t replied to any of them.”
Hotchner looked at her and she sighed, “I got them but I’ve never read any of them. They’re in a box, in the back of a cupboard in my mom’s house in L.A.”
“Is there anything else, Garcia?” Hotchner asked, and Garcia shook her head, smile dimming a little.
“I afraid not. I’m still looking into anyone who has relocated to New York from Mountrail County, but nothing so far.”
“Ok, thank you, Garcia.”
“I will let you know the instant I find any matches, providing you aren’t in the prison, in which case I shall let you know as soon as you return to the land of reception.” Garcia saluted him before the video window closed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention the letters.”
Hotchner shook his head, “I doubt your father wrote anything about what he did to his victims in his letters.”
Ashley ducked her head, “I still should have told you.”
He pushed a file towards her, “We have two hours until we land. You should get caught up on the most recent victims.”
She nodded, accepting the file and flipping it open. Two hours was more than enough time to read up on the facts of the murders, and it would take her mind off what was to come.
North Dakota State Penitentiary, Bismarck, North Dakota, 2010
Ashley had never been in a prison before, but it was pretty much exactly as she’d imagined.
The warden met them at the entrance, guiding them through security, watching as Hotchner handed both of his guns and his baton over. He was more armed than she had ever been. Ashley followed, always a step behind Hotchner, the files tucked under her arm her only weapon.
Her father had been told that two FBI agents were coming to interview him, that he couldn’t refuse to see them, but they hadn’t told him about her. Hotchner wanted to catch him off guard, to make sure that he father didn’t have any time to prepare himself. Ashley wasn’t sure if it would have made any difference.
She doesn’t think her father would have believed them. Then again, she thought, maybe he would. He still sent her letters, even though she never answered them. Maybe the hope that she or Charlie would visit was what had kept him going, through his personally enforced solitude for all these years.
As they walked, she built herself a mental wall, building it stronger as they got closer and closer to the room where her father was waiting. She put her emotions, her hurt, behind it. For what she was about to do, she needed to be like Hotchner. She had to be the agent, not the daughter.
Hotchner turned to her as they reached the final door, meeting her gaze steadily, “Follow behind me, keep out of his line of sight. You’ll know when to step into view.”
She nodded, her back ramrod straight, her expression neutral. She knew that she would only be able to keep it up for so long; she just hoped that it would be long enough.
The warden drew her ID card through the electronic lock, the sharp thud of the lock releasing echoing in the corridor, then the guards pushed the door open, holding it for Ashley and Hotchner to walk in.
Somehow, Ashley managed not to jump as the door slammed shut behind them. They had thirty minutes, and the warden would be watching from the observation room. She forced herself to focus, taking her first look at the man seated at the room’s sole table.
He couldn’t see her properly. He knew that she was there, but Hotchner’s body was blocking his view of her face. The man’s hands were shackled to the thick belt around his waist, and he looked almost bored.
Ashley swallowed hard; she had never seen that expression on her father’s face before. She’d seen fury, but she’d never seen that level of apathy.
He didn’t look as different as she’d expected. He still didn’t look like a monster. He had a beard, though it was neatly kept, but his hair was about the same length he’d always worn it. At some point it had turned grey.
“Hello, Charles.” Hotchner stopped just short of the table, not bothering with the chair. Ashley watched her father’s face as he tried to stare Hotchner down.
“You’ve wasted your time I’m afraid, Agent Hotchner.”
Ashley fought to keep her reaction off her face. Her father remembered him when she hadn’t, but she supposed her father had likely interacted more with him than she had. Back then.
“Really.”
Her father smiled, and it was an ugly thing that made her stomach clench. It wasn’t that it was cruel, or bitter, it was the emptiness; the lack of emotion behind the expression. He glanced at her, still not able to see her face, and she saw frustration flash in his eyes, just for a moment.
“You can bring as many girls in here as you want. It wouldn’t make me anymore interested in talking to you. I told you I was guilty, I told you that I killed those girls. What else is there to say?”
Hotchner’s right hand twitched and Ashley stepped to one side, facing her father for the first time since he’d confessed to her. “Hello, dad.”
Ashley watched the shock that crossed her father’s face, the shock he tried and ultimately failed to hide.
She clamped down on her emotions. She was not going to be the one to break. She wasn’t scared of him, not now. She wouldn’t be cowed, not like she had been as a child in the face of his anger. He owed her, she owed him nothing.
“Ashley.”
She moved forwards, pulling the chair out and sitting down, placing the files down onto the table. She retained eye contact with her father the whole time. “I have some questions, and I want you to answer them, truthfully.”
“Ashley,” he shook his head, “it’s been so long.”
“Who did you tell?” She asked, aware of Hotchner’s presence at her back.
Her father frowned, looking from her to Hotchner than back, “Tell? Ashley…”
She flipped open the file, and turned it so that her father could see the crime scene photos. “Who did you tell?”
Her father started at the sight of the pictures, his cheeks flushed dark red. He was angry. “Where…”
“You always used to tell me that there were bad people out there. That I had to be careful.” That drew his attention back to her, away from the photos, “You know who’s responsible for this. I know you do.”
Her father sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t say anything. Ashley fought against the momentary panic. She had to get him to answer, she had to.
“I’m going back there.” She tapped the file with one finger, “I’m going back to where this person is killing these women. As soon as we’re done talking.”
Her father stiffened, “You know better, I taught you better.”
“No, you didn’t.” She allowed her anger to taint her voice, just a little, “You taught me to be afraid. You taught me that people lie. You taught me that the world is a cruel place.” She opened the other files, spreading the photographs across the surface of the table.
“You taught me what people are capable of. That a person could do something like this,” Ashley pointed to a picture of Madison Keller’s body, “and then go home and pretend like they weren’t a monster.” She gave him a moment, watching as he flinched, just a little, “I remember how tired you were, and I remember how relieved you were the day they came.” She pointed at the photographs again, “The person doing this, I don’t think they want to stop.”
Her father just looked at her, a single tear running down the side of his face.
“I am going back there.” Ashley said, “Because I have to stop them.”
Her father bowed his head for a moment, his shoulders shaking, just a little before he nodded. When he spoke, Ashley could only just make out the words, “She’ll kill you.”
Mountrail County, North Dakota, 1996
Her dad was angry and Ashley was afraid.
She couldn’t hide up in her room, he never liked that. She had to stay where he could see her. Had to stay quiet and do as she was told, he wasn’t asking too much of her. He always said that, and she guessed it was true.
Charlie stared across the table at her, his eyes wide. Dad didn’t get angry all that often, not like Shelley’s dad did, or Mr. Cross who lived in the big house down the street. They seemed to get angry a lot; her mom said that was why Mrs. Cross had gone away. She hadn’t wanted to live with such an angry man.
Ashley pressed her hands together between her legs, trying to hold as still as she could. She could hear her dad yelling at her mom in the kitchen;, she thought maybe everyone could, he was yelling so loud. Charlie flinched when there was a crash, something else broken, and he looked like he wanted to ask why, or go see what was happening. Ashley knew that was a bad idea.
Dad only got angry once a year, at least Ashley thought it was about that often. It was strange, and rare, and scary. She was glad he didn’t get angry like Shelley’s dad.
Charlie started to move and she kicked him under the table, shaking her head. They had to wait. The back door would slam, or dad would charge out of the kitchen, cursing, and go out the front door, then mom would come through.
Her mom’s cheeks were always a little damp, sometimes one was red, sometimes her mom would hold herself with the same care people did after they’d been hurt. Ashley never asked why, because mom had told her not to. Mom always just served dinner, like nothing was different, and then they’d go to bed, and her dad would come home late.
The door wouldn’t slam, but the stairs always squeaked.
Aaron had taken the time to get his notes together, Nancy starting her own hunt though their new suspects information before he headed to the conference room. There was a part of him that was frustrated with himself; he should have seen it before. He shook his head, that didn’t matter, he had figured it out now and he was sure that he was right, he had learned to trust his instincts years before; he just needed to convince Rossi.
And to do that he needed to have some information to back up his theory.
Ben looked up as Aaron stepped into the room, raising a dark eyebrow and Aaron nodded to him quickly before focusing on Rossi. “I think I might have interviewed the unsub this morning.”
Rossi lowered his pen to the table, the red one Aaron noticed absently, “What makes you think that?”
Aaron held his notes out to Rossi, waiting for the other man to take them before he answered the question, “I think he might have tried to implicate Malcolm Hunter.”
Rossi’s eyebrows rose, “The guy we just interviewed?”
Aaron nodded, “He gave a statement, saying he thought he’d seen a van, matching the general description of Hunter’s, close to one of the crime scenes.”
Rossi didn’t say anything, he just stared at Aaron.
“He didn’t make his statement until after the Sheriff had first spoken to Hunter, and, as far as I can tell, he had no reason to be in the area himself.” Aaron said.
Rossi looked back down at Aaron’s notes, scanning the page quickly, “He lives in Redmond?”
Aaron nodded, “He’s an accountant.”
Rossi frowned, “He did Veronica Kemp’s accounts.”
“He works for a lot of people, including relatives of some of the other victims, but these are close communities…” Aaron could remember his own words to Nancy, less than an hour before and he knew it could work against his theory.
“So there’s going to be a lot more overlap.” Rossi nodded, still reading over Aaron’s notes, “It’s worth following up on, let Katie and Daye know.”
Two hours later, Aaron was back at the desk he was sharing with Nancy and she was hanging up the phone. She made one last note, then pushed her pile of files over to him, resting her chin on her hand, “That is, to the best of my ability to compile, a full diary of the work that your suspect has been paid for over the last three years. I can go further back, but it’ll take me a while.”
“Thanks.” Aaron accepted the files, opening them and placing them alongside the timeline he’d been working on. He read the first few entries on Nancy’s list, before he went digging for the local map he had been using as a reference. He didn’t know the area well enough to gauge distances.
He traced through each job, making notes on a new sheet of paper. A lot of the jobs were long term and overlapped with others, but considering the type of work the man did, it wasn’t a surprise. Aaron winced when he spotted Hawke’s name. That was what made case investigations so much harder in rural communities. Everyone had some connection to everyone else. They used the same grocery store, their kids went to the same school.
It took less than an hour for Aaron to finish, and his final timeline made him feel a little sick, but it supported his suspicions.
“Hotch?” Katie appeared at his shoulder, leaning over to eye the list in front of him. He’d insisted that she use his nickname, if she wanted him to use her first name. She hadn’t argued. “That looks rather convincing.”
Aaron looked up at her, watching as she pursed her lips, considering. “The struggle will come when we actually go to bring him in for questioning.”
“His wife and kids?” Nancy, who had been listening in, winced.
“That,” Katie motioned to Aaron’s notes, “gives us reason to suspect him, but really all it says is that he was working in the right areas at the right times. He could have been home every night.”
“He gave a statement saying he had seen a van near the crime scene in Clearwater. Given the time he claims to have been there, he would have been home late that night.” Aaron said.
“What time did he say he’d seen the van?” Katie asked, looking at the map.
“Around ten in the evening.” Aaron answered.
“That is late.” She agreed absently, frowning.
“You don’t think it’s enough?” Aaron asked, and Katie sighed, shaking her head.
“I’ve read through his file, he does fit the profile. Oldest of three children, married with two of his own, he travels around for his job. The problem is still the lack of physical evidence. We can bring him in through.”
“He’s already been in for an interview.” Aaron pointed out and Katie nodded.
“I know, but it’s all we can do.”
She glanced sideways, straightening as she caught sight of Rossi, Ben, and Hamilton approaching, “Dave?”
Rossi waved a hand, “It’s time to break for the night. We’ll decide on a plan of action in the morning.”
Katie frowned, no doubt picking up on the same undercurrent to Rossi’s voice, “What is it?”
“It turns out that our unsub has been using silk ties to strangle his victims,” Rossi answered, “but it’s a different ties each time according to the fibre analysis.”
“Have they got anything else?” Katie asked, and Rossi shook his head.
“No, and they only looked into that much because I asked them to. It’s the only evidence that this guy has left at the crime scenes.”
“There’s something else.” Katie said, her eyes narrowed.
“I looked at Beauchamp’s financials,” Ben said, “he spends a lot of money on his kids, and he buys a lot of ties.”
“You mean his wife buys a lot of ties for him.” Katie said, and Ben shook his head.
“They have separate cards. I can tell which one of them has brought what, or at least make an educated guess. He buys flowers for her, she buys the groceries.” Ben shrugged, “I could be wrong.”
Katie frowned, glancing at Rossi, “And we’re leaving this until morning?”
Rossi shook his head, throwing a warning glance at Hamilton, “It’s getting late. We need to step back and come back in the morning. If it still looks like Beauchamp is a good suspect, we’ll act on it.”
“And if he kills again tonight?” Hamilton asked, impatience coloring the words.
Rossi shook his head, “If he does, and he’s our man, it’s on me.”
Aaron didn’t have a very restful night’s sleep. He woke early again, and phoned Haley. He just needed to hear the sound of her voice.
”It must be bad, if you’re calling me at this time in the morning.” She sounded sleepy, but she’d answered on the third ring.
Aaron winced, glancing at the clock, it was earlier for him. “It’s, it’s not worse than others, it’s just, more frustrating.”
”Hmmm, can you talk about it?”
Aaron sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily, “Not really, and to be honest, you don’t want to know.”
Haley sighed, he could hear her moving around their kitchen. He wished that he could be there instead of in North Dakota, even though he knew that, given the choice to make again, he would still choose the BAU. ”I was thinking…”
He smiled, glad that she wasn’t pushing, “About?”
”How big our house is.”
Aaron made a face, hoping that she wasn’t bringing up kids again.
”Don’t you make faces Mister,” she scolded. ”I was thinking about maybe getting a dog. It could give me kisses in the morning when you’re not here to do it.”
He laughed, “Are you trying to make me jealous of a dog we don’t even have?”
”Yet.”
Once they got to the station, Rossi and Katie took what they had to Hawkes, spending an hour closed away in the sheriff’s office. Aaron had looked up from his files every so often, watching Katie pace the office while Hawkes and Rossi sat on either side of the desk.
“Hotch,” Nancy drew his attention, before nodding behind him.
He frowned, turning. Hamilton was guiding a nervous-looking girl towards them. Her dark hair had been scraped back into a high ponytail, but she wasn’t wearing any make-up, and her hands were shaking.
“Aaron, would you look after Miss Saunders for a minute?” Hamilton used his most professional tone of voice, not waiting for Aaron to answer before he started towards Hawkes’ office.
Aaron managed not to let his irritation show, standing and offering his chair to the obviously shaken Miss Saunders. “Do you want some water?”
She shook her head, clasping her hands together on her lap; it wasn’t just her hands that were shaking.
Aaron glanced at Nancy, who shrugged. At a guess she’d come in because she knew something about the case, but Hamilton hadn’t said anything, and she was scared enough that Aaron was wary of doing anything but sitting with her.
Thankfully it hadn’t taken long for Katie to appear, Hawkes, Hamilton and Rossi a few paces behind.
Katie nodded to Aaron, motioning for him to move away, before she stepped forward, dropping to a crouch in front of Miss Saunders. “Agent Daye told us that you’ve come in to give a witness statement.”
The woman nodded after a moment, but she didn’t look up, “I saw the man you’re after.”
Hawkes started to say something, only to be cut off by a gesture from Katie, who backed it up with a sharp glare. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be clearer, who did you see?”
“I saw him murder that girl, two nights ago.”
Katie took a breath, “Ok. Was it a man you recognised?”
The woman shook her head, shifting a little, almost looking up at Katie, “No, but I can tell you what he looks like.”
Katie looked at Rossi who nodded. Katie turned back to the woman, her hands clenched at her sides, she wanted to reach out, but she couldn’t. It would have only made Saunders jump. “Is it ok if we show you some photographs?”
Saunders swallowed hard before nodding.
Katie offered her a smile, still resisting the desire to reach out to the younger woman, “OK.”
Rossi held out a pile of photographs he’d pulled from the files scattered across the desk in front of Nancy, and Saunders twitched suddenly, as though she’d just thought of something, looking to Katie, her eyes wide, “Wait, I, you’ll keep me safe?”
Katie nodded, reaching out to grasp Saunders’ hands, “We will keep you safe, I promise.”
Saunders looked up at Rossi, then Hamilton, then Hawkes before she nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing, just a little. “Ok.”
Katie squeezed Saunders hands again before letting go and taking the photographs from Rossi. “I’m going to show you each of these photos, if you see the man, let me know ok?”
Saunders took a deep breath before she nodded, “OK.”
Katie placed each photo back on the table after Saunders had seen it. Saunders didn’t react until the fourth picture. “That’s him.”
“I’m going to show you the rest of the photos, ok?”
Saunders frowned, clearly confused before she nodded, “OK.”
She didn’t react to any of the rest of the photos, though Aaron was aware of the glances she kept throwing at them. He guessed she must have thought they had another person in mind; she was looking for a sign. She wouldn’t know that they always showed all of the pictures, made sure that they didn’t show any preference to the witness.
They couldn’t lead them in any way. It had to be their identification.
“None of the others?” Katie asked.
Saunders shook her head and then pointed at the photo she’d identified, “That’s him. I saw him, before he caught up with her. I, I ran away after he dragged her off the road.”
Hawkes shifted, looking uncomfortable, while Rossi frowned. Aaron knew that, ideally, she should have come forward before, but she was clearly terrified. He couldn’t blame her for waiting.
Katie held up the photo for them to see, “It’s Beauchamp.”
As he climbed out of the car, Aaron had wished that he had been carrying both of his guns. He had worn his ankle holster for his first two weeks at the BAU, but it had started to feel a bit unnecessary when he was spending most of his time in the office. But being out in the field again, he missed the familiar weight of it.
It was always good to have a backup weapon.
After Saunders had ID’d Beauchamp, Hawkes had made the call. They would bring him in as an official suspect. They had enough for that.
Rossi and Hawkes lead the way to the front door; Aaron kept pace with Katie, a few feet behind while Hamilton and Deputy Campbell brought up the rear. He wanted to approach the house as he had during raids, but it was a weekend and Beauchamp had kids.
They had to do this as gently as possible, and that meant knocking on the door.
Aaron put his hand on the butt of his gun; he doubted he would need it, but he wanted to be able to cover Hawkes and Rossi if he had to. Katie did the same, edging to one side, placing them just out of sight behind and either side of the front door.
Hawkes stepped forwards, knocking on the door and waiting, Rossi half a step back. They didn’t have to wait long for it to open.
“Sheriff Hawkes.” Beauchamp’s wife, Kelly stood in the doorway, eyes widening as she took in the six law enforcement officers. She frowned, shifting her weight, “What’s going on?”
“We’re here to see your husband, ma’am.” Hawkes said.
“Charles,” Kelly shook her head, “I don’t understand. He gave his statement yesterday.”
“Kelly, there’s,” Hawkes hesitated.
“Your husband is a suspect.” Rossi took over, “We’re here to take him in for questioning.”
She stared at him blankly for a moment before she shook her head, “My husband would never…”
“There’s a witness, Kelly.”
She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand, just as a young girl came to the door, blue eyes widening. She glanced between her mother and the Sheriff, shifting. She was old enough to recognise that something was wrong.
“Mom?”
Her daughter’s voice spurred Kelly Beauchamp into action, reaching out to her daughter, pulling her to one side, “It’s ok ,Ashley.” She took a deep breath, meeting Hawkes’ gaze steadily, “He’s in his office upstairs.”
Rossi stepped forward, holding out a hand to her, “We can step outside, if you would rather.”
Kelly hesitated, her grip on her daughter tightening, ever so slightly, “My son…”
Rossi nodded his understanding, “I can look after her while you go get him.”
Kelly wavered, before she nodded stiffly, “Ashley, can you go with the nice man for a minute? I need to get your brother.” She gave her daughter a little push, but Ashley clasped onto her mother’s arm.
“Mom, what’s happening?”
Her mother wavered, shaking her head, “Ashley, sweetie, I just need you to go with him for a minute, I will be right back ok?”
Ashley stared at her mother for a long moment before she nodded, moving towards Rossi.
Aaron watched as Rossi guided the girl away before he turned. Kelly motioned for them to follow her into the house, stepping to one side as they reached the stairs, “He’s up there, second door on the left.” She nodded to them before turning away and heading further into the house.
Aaron glanced at Katie, who shook her head, expression grim. There was nothing they could do for his family, except get it over with as quickly, and with as little fuss, as possible.
They followed Hawkes up the stairs, and Aaron kept his hand on the butt of his gun.
Hawkes pushed the door to the office open without knocking, stepping in quickly, Katie on his heels while Aaron stayed in the doorway. Charles Beauchamp stood slowly, turning to face them, his hands in full view.
His was not the behaviour of an innocent man.
“Charles Beauchamp….” Hawkes read Beauchamp his rights as he cuffed him. Beauchamp didn’t struggle. Aaron thought that he almost looked relieved, like he’d wanted to be caught.
It seemed more likely that he’d just seen it coming. Aaron frowned at the thought, the only way he could have seen it coming was if he’d known there was a witness.
And that would have meant that, as he’d sat talking with Aaron the day before, he had known there was a witness out there. Saunders could have walked into the station while Beauchamp himself had been there. Aaron dreaded to think what could have happened.
Hawkes pushed Beauchamp towards the door, but the man struggled, motioning to the bottom drawer of his desk. “In there. I kept them all.”
“What?” Hawkes frowned at the other man, shaking him a little. Beauchamp didn’t answer.
Katie’s mouth thinned and she glanced at Aaron before she pulled a tissue from her pocket, covering her hand with it as she bent down. She hesitated for a moment, and then reached out to pull the drawer open. Inside was a collection of silk ties.
Aaron watched as Hawkes lead Beauchamp away, waiting until the door of the patrol car was shut before he made his way to Beauchamp’s car. He’d found the keys in the kitchen, just where Beauchamp had told him they would be.
He couldn’t believe that Beauchamp was just giving in to them like he was. He’d been killing for nine years, leaving no evidence behind that could be used to trace him, then when they’d come to his door, he’d just handed them what they needed.
Aaron unlocked the car, hesitating beside it for moment before he walked around to the other side. He covered his hand with his sleeve as he pulled the front passenger door of Beauchamp’s car open, leaning into to open the glove box. All he could see was a bulky object wrapped in cloth, he hesitated then stepped back. He wasn’t going to pull it out.
He heard Katie approach, her heels digging into the gravel drive, and he turned to face her.
“Is it there?” She asked, glancing past him, into the car.
Aaron nodded, “There’s something wrapped in a cloth, it’s big enough to be a knife.”
Katie shook her head, sighing. “He could have hid it somewhere better.” Aaron could hear the words that Katie wasn’t saying. He’d seen the way she’s looked at Beauchamp’s kids. She was thinking about how easy it could have been for one of the kids to find the knife.
“I doubt he’s ever let them sit in the front.” Aaron offered; his own father had been like that. It was a safety thing as much as a control thing. Kids were safer in the backseat.
Katie nodded absently, before she turned to look at the house, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I always hate it when their houses look this normal.”
Aaron wasn’t sure there was anything he could say that would make her feel better. He shifted his weight, glancing back to the car, then out to the street that was still full of law enforcement vehicles. He should call Haley, let her know that the case was done. That he would be coming home.
But he didn’t want to call her yet. He’d wait until he felt a bit more balanced.
Yes, they had caught the killer and they had enough evidence to guarantee that he would go to prison for a long time and they hadn’t needed to use their guns. But, he thought as he watched Rossi lead Beauchamp’s daughter to a car, people’s lives had been changed irreparably.
They could give the families of the victims some closure, but they couldn’t bring the victims back.
They had stopped Charles Beauchamp from killing again, but they also taken a father away from his children, and so much more.
It wasn’t a bloodless victory.
Part Six: Ashley
Author: weaselett
Artist: pe1804
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Type: Gen, mentions of femslash and het: slightly AU from canon
Rating/Warnings: 15 (for descriptions of violence and some language)
Word Count for this part: 7,475
POV Characters: Ashley Seaver, Aaron Hotchner
Spoilers: Spoilers up to Season Six episode 10 (what happens at home).
Summary: There's a serial killer in New York, one who leaves no evidence behind at the crime scene and always seems to be one step ahead of the team investigating the murders. Their best chance seems to lie with the BAU, for whom the case brings back old memories. Written for casestory.
For full warning see masterpost here
New York, 2010
Ashley slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Mellie. It was morning; she wasn’t sure how early, but she could hear Morgan’s voice in the other room. She pulled on a pair of jeans, then stepped out of the bedroom; she could see Morgan pacing in front of the window.
She hesitated, weighing her options, before deciding that ultimately, sneaking around would be a bad idea. She moved into his line of sight and waved, earning a momentary frown before he picked up his coffee mug and waved it at her. She rolled her eyes, of course, she was young, blond and female, she would be happy to make him coffee while he got on with his business.
She watched him pace for a moment longer before she grabbed the mugs and headed for the kitchen. She rinsed the mugs out quickly before she refilled the kettle. Bread went into the toaster, and food went into Barnaby’s bowl.
Ashley lent against the side, there was a part of her that wanted to listen in on Morgan’s conversation, but she resisted the urge. It would be rude and she had no idea if it was even about her. For all she knew he had a girlfriend or wife he was talking to.
It didn’t take long for her to finish the coffees and dump the toast onto a plate, arranging it all onto a tray and carrying it out of the kitchen. Morgan was just hanging up as she rounded the corner, his expression grim.
She had a very bad feeling she knew what that meant.
“There’s been another murder,” Morgan said, looking up at her as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He only looked slightly rumpled after his night spent on the couch.
“Oh.” Ashley didn’t know what else to say. ‘Well now you know I’m not killing them’ was too cold, though she knew that there were people who would’ve said it. All that she could think was ‘oh God, no’.
Morgan nodded, “Yeah. Hotch said to tell you that you’re clear, and your family has been in L.A. the whole time.”
Ashley sighed. She lowered the tray to the table before rubbing the palms of her hands against her pyjama shorts. “I feel like I should apologise.”
Morgan shook his head, “I get that, I do, but you’ve got no reason to. It’s not your fault. Not your father, not this unsub.”
Ashley smiled, knowing it had a bitter edge, “You wasted time watching me, and the others must have spent time looking into my family, while the unsub was moving on to their next victim.”
“It happens.” Morgan said.
“Yeah,” Ashley ducked her head, “I guess that means you’ll be heading back to the field office.”
“And you’re coming with me.”
Ashley looked up at him, startled, “But I’m off the case, MacTaggart is probably going to enforce leave until the investigation is done. It would be a conflict of interest.”
Morgan’s eyebrows rose, “That depends, do you think your dad is innocent?”
That startled a laugh out of Ashley and she shook her head, “No. I know my father is guilty, I know he killed all of those women. He told me, after he was arrested.”
“And?”
Ashley frowned, “What?”
“That can’t be the only reason.” He sounded so certain, and Ashley wondered if there’d been a research project, interviewing the families of serial killers.
“Looking back, I can tell you all the times he did something that he showed us what he’d been doing, but we just didn’t notice.” Ashley shrugged, “I know it’s because we weren’t looking for it, not because we ignored it, but that doesn’t lessen the guilt.”
“You know your father better than any of us, even Hotch and Rossi,” Morgan held her gaze, his expression almost as intense as Hotchner’s tended to be, “that could help us a lot with this investigation.”
“I didn’t know how he killed. I didn’t know that the murderer I’ve been investigating for weeks was copying my father.” She argued.
“No, but you know his behaviour.”
Ashley sighed, shaking her head and looking away. “I’m not sure I’ll actually be helpful, but I’ll come with you to the field office.” It wasn’t worth arguing with him. They’d figure out how little she knew as soon as they started asking her questions, and then she’d get sent home again.
Her father had always been a stranger to her. He’d just become more of one when she’d found out that he was a serial killer.
Ashley had to resist the urge to shrink back into a corner as she stepped into the conference room. Rossi and Jareau were the only ones there, the others at the crime scene with Donavon and Daire, and they had both looked up from the files they’d been reading as she and Morgan entered.
They exchanged a look, and Morgan gave her a little push towards the table. She took a deep breath, and then moved, settling herself into one of the chairs opposite the others. Rossi gave her a look, one that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and she ducked her head.
Her emotions were everywhere, and she hated it.
She was aware of the three BAU agents discussing something quietly for a moment before silence fell. When she looked up, they each had work in front of them. She shifted in her seat, then turned to look at the case boards. The details of the last victim had been added to them, and Ashley clenched her fists as she took in the crime scene photographs.
She was still staring at the detail on the boards when the door opened and the rest of the BAU team entered, Donavon following behind. He offered her a smile and a wink, and took the seat beside her. She relaxed, and managed a smile in return. His support was enough to lessen the urge to run.
She could do this.
It took a moment, the various team members getting themselves sorted, pulling out notes from the new crime scene and grabbing drinks while they had a chance. Ashley was aware of Hotchner’s attention, as well as Reid’s, but she didn’t react to either.
It was Rossi who spoke to her first, once silence had fallen again, “There are a few questions we were hoping you could answer for us, Agent Seaver.” There was a tiny hesitation before he’d used her rank. She guessed that now he’d made the connection between her and the little girl he’d once met, he was struggling not to think of her as Ashley. She was grateful that he hadn’t said as much out loud.
“Agent Morgan explained.”
“Do you know if your father had any friends? Anyone he might have spoken to?” Prentiss asked.
“He didn’t really have any close friends that I know of.” Ashley shook her head, “There’s no one I can think of who he would have talked to, about anything. My mom always said he hadn’t been a talker, not about himself, and he was always vague about work.”
“You’re certain?” Prentiss asked.
Ashley sighed, “I really don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that you don’t already know. I mean, according to your profile of my father,” she looked at Rossi, “would he tell anyone about his crimes?” She was fairly sure that the answer was ‘no’, but she wasn’t a profiler and she really didn’t know all that much about the way serial killers thought.
Rossi shook his head, “No he wouldn’t, but we wanted to be sure.”
Ashley hesitated, glancing at Hotchner, “You think the unsub has spoken to my father?” It would make sense if that was the case, for them to want her insight, limited as she knew it to be. But it bothered her still. “Haven’t you asked him that yourselves?”
The room was silent for a long moment before Hotchner spoke, “We haven’t interviewed your father. He was never interested.”
“Why does that matter?” Ashley frowned, looking to each of them.
“We only interview criminals who agreed to be involved in our studies,” it was Reid who answered her, “we’ve found that we get more useful information if they participate willingly. They’re less likely to lie, and most of them who volunteer want to tell us about themselves.”
“Oh.” She felt silly, she should have guessed that. She was just so used to interviews being conducted, whether criminals were willing or not, but she guessed that once they were convicted, there wasn’t a need.
They seemed willing to let her process that, though she saw Morgan and Prentiss exchange a look. They were probably thinking that they had better things they could be doing. Actual leads to find. Though there was one she thought they didn’t seem to be following, “Maybe you should ask him now.”
“Ask him?” Reid stared at her and she frowned at him.
“My father. If they’re copying him, and I’m guessing using details that were never released, that means they’ve spoken to him, or they were involved in the investigation.” She looked from Hotchner to Rossi as she finished. Under different circumstances they could have been suspects, like her.
“Your father has refused to talk to us in the past.” Rossi answered, and Ashley nodded, she already had an answer to that problem.
“He’ll talk to me.”
It had taken almost an hour of discussion, but in the end it had been agreed that she and Agent Hotchner would head to Bismarck, and interview her father, while the others continued to work on what they could in New York. They had the two most recent victims to run background on.
Ashley hoped that they found something. She could feel the pressure; she knew, if she could get her father to open up to her, it would be the key to figuring out who the killer was; but that meant, if she couldn’t get him to talk, they would go back to having pretty much nothing.
Ashley shifted a little in her seat, her gaze wandering for the thirteenth time in as many minutes. She was sitting on the BAU’s jet, and she still couldn’t quite believe it. She’d expected to have to catch a train, or a commercial flight. She’d never been on a private jet before.
She glanced over her shoulder, towards the cockpit, taking in the sofa and the kitchen alcove. The seats were a lot more comfortable than she remembered from her flights to and from L.A., and there was actual leg room. She suspected that Reid and Hotchner were grateful for that, considering how many hours they had to clock up.
She started guiltily as Hotchner appeared, sliding into the seat on the other side of the table from her, setting a pile of files and a laptop down on the table top. He eyed her, and she was fairly sure he was laughing at her mentally. “We’ll be taking off soon.”
She nodded, attempting a smile, then turned her attention to the window; she didn’t look at him again until they were in the air. All she could see out of the window was the sky.
They watched each other in silence for a long moment, until he shifted, resting his arms on the table top, “I wanted to thank you.”
Ashley frowned. She wasn’t sure he really had a reason to thank her. It wasn’t like she’d told him anything he hadn’t already known, or wouldn’t have found out eventually. She’d seen the look he and Rossi had exchanged when she had told them that her father would talk to her. That was what they’d been hoping for.
It was the real reason that he’d asked Morgan to bring her back to the field office, and she wasn’t angry with him for that. Ultimately, they were both after the same thing.
“You don’t need to.” She jumped in, not wanting him to explain his reasons, she didn’t want to hear them. “It’s my job.” It is, it really is, but at the same time, it’s not her job that drives her. She had volunteered because she didn’t want any more women to die. This unsub had claimed enough lives.
Hotchner watched her for a long moment before he nodded, a silent agreement to let it go. “Our technical analyst is looking into everyone who lived in Mountrail County during the period your father was killing. She’s going to let us know if any of them moved to New York recently.”
Ashley nodded. That would be the Garcia Morgan had mentioned, during the drive to the field office, she assumed. “I hope she finds something.”
His laptop beeped before he could say anything in reply, and he opened it quickly, angling it so they could both see the screen. Ashley blinked in surprise as a video window popped up, showing the interior of an office and a smiling, red headed woman.
“Good morning, friends.” The woman was surprisingly cheerful in comparison to the profilers. Ashley couldn’t help but wonder how she managed it.
“Penelope Garcia.” Hotchner’s tone was warm, fond, “This is Agent Seaver.”
Garcia smiled brightly, waving, “Rossi told me to let you know what I’d found, about that thing you wanted me to look into.”
Ashley could tell the thing was something to do with her father. Something they hadn’t been sure she would like.
Hotchner glanced at her briefly before he nodded to Garcia, “Go on, Garcia.”
“According to the records, Charles Beauchamp has not had any visitors since his trial. A whole bunch of people have requested to see him, but he’s always refused, which is kinda unusual.”
“What about letters? Any kind of communication with the outside world?” Hotchner asked, leaning forward a little. Ashley bit her lip, remembering the pile of letters she had, stored away in a box at her mom’s.
“He gets letters, mostly from your typical disturbed groupies, some from the families of his victims, but he hasn’t answered any of them. He has, however, been writing to his family.” Garcia offered Ashley an apologetic look, “Who haven’t replied to any of them.”
Hotchner looked at her and she sighed, “I got them but I’ve never read any of them. They’re in a box, in the back of a cupboard in my mom’s house in L.A.”
“Is there anything else, Garcia?” Hotchner asked, and Garcia shook her head, smile dimming a little.
“I afraid not. I’m still looking into anyone who has relocated to New York from Mountrail County, but nothing so far.”
“Ok, thank you, Garcia.”
“I will let you know the instant I find any matches, providing you aren’t in the prison, in which case I shall let you know as soon as you return to the land of reception.” Garcia saluted him before the video window closed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention the letters.”
Hotchner shook his head, “I doubt your father wrote anything about what he did to his victims in his letters.”
Ashley ducked her head, “I still should have told you.”
He pushed a file towards her, “We have two hours until we land. You should get caught up on the most recent victims.”
She nodded, accepting the file and flipping it open. Two hours was more than enough time to read up on the facts of the murders, and it would take her mind off what was to come.
North Dakota State Penitentiary, Bismarck, North Dakota, 2010
Ashley had never been in a prison before, but it was pretty much exactly as she’d imagined.
The warden met them at the entrance, guiding them through security, watching as Hotchner handed both of his guns and his baton over. He was more armed than she had ever been. Ashley followed, always a step behind Hotchner, the files tucked under her arm her only weapon.
Her father had been told that two FBI agents were coming to interview him, that he couldn’t refuse to see them, but they hadn’t told him about her. Hotchner wanted to catch him off guard, to make sure that he father didn’t have any time to prepare himself. Ashley wasn’t sure if it would have made any difference.
She doesn’t think her father would have believed them. Then again, she thought, maybe he would. He still sent her letters, even though she never answered them. Maybe the hope that she or Charlie would visit was what had kept him going, through his personally enforced solitude for all these years.
As they walked, she built herself a mental wall, building it stronger as they got closer and closer to the room where her father was waiting. She put her emotions, her hurt, behind it. For what she was about to do, she needed to be like Hotchner. She had to be the agent, not the daughter.
Hotchner turned to her as they reached the final door, meeting her gaze steadily, “Follow behind me, keep out of his line of sight. You’ll know when to step into view.”
She nodded, her back ramrod straight, her expression neutral. She knew that she would only be able to keep it up for so long; she just hoped that it would be long enough.
The warden drew her ID card through the electronic lock, the sharp thud of the lock releasing echoing in the corridor, then the guards pushed the door open, holding it for Ashley and Hotchner to walk in.
Somehow, Ashley managed not to jump as the door slammed shut behind them. They had thirty minutes, and the warden would be watching from the observation room. She forced herself to focus, taking her first look at the man seated at the room’s sole table.
He couldn’t see her properly. He knew that she was there, but Hotchner’s body was blocking his view of her face. The man’s hands were shackled to the thick belt around his waist, and he looked almost bored.
Ashley swallowed hard; she had never seen that expression on her father’s face before. She’d seen fury, but she’d never seen that level of apathy.
He didn’t look as different as she’d expected. He still didn’t look like a monster. He had a beard, though it was neatly kept, but his hair was about the same length he’d always worn it. At some point it had turned grey.
“Hello, Charles.” Hotchner stopped just short of the table, not bothering with the chair. Ashley watched her father’s face as he tried to stare Hotchner down.
“You’ve wasted your time I’m afraid, Agent Hotchner.”
Ashley fought to keep her reaction off her face. Her father remembered him when she hadn’t, but she supposed her father had likely interacted more with him than she had. Back then.
“Really.”
Her father smiled, and it was an ugly thing that made her stomach clench. It wasn’t that it was cruel, or bitter, it was the emptiness; the lack of emotion behind the expression. He glanced at her, still not able to see her face, and she saw frustration flash in his eyes, just for a moment.
“You can bring as many girls in here as you want. It wouldn’t make me anymore interested in talking to you. I told you I was guilty, I told you that I killed those girls. What else is there to say?”
Hotchner’s right hand twitched and Ashley stepped to one side, facing her father for the first time since he’d confessed to her. “Hello, dad.”
Ashley watched the shock that crossed her father’s face, the shock he tried and ultimately failed to hide.
She clamped down on her emotions. She was not going to be the one to break. She wasn’t scared of him, not now. She wouldn’t be cowed, not like she had been as a child in the face of his anger. He owed her, she owed him nothing.
“Ashley.”
She moved forwards, pulling the chair out and sitting down, placing the files down onto the table. She retained eye contact with her father the whole time. “I have some questions, and I want you to answer them, truthfully.”
“Ashley,” he shook his head, “it’s been so long.”
“Who did you tell?” She asked, aware of Hotchner’s presence at her back.
Her father frowned, looking from her to Hotchner than back, “Tell? Ashley…”
She flipped open the file, and turned it so that her father could see the crime scene photos. “Who did you tell?”
Her father started at the sight of the pictures, his cheeks flushed dark red. He was angry. “Where…”
“You always used to tell me that there were bad people out there. That I had to be careful.” That drew his attention back to her, away from the photos, “You know who’s responsible for this. I know you do.”
Her father sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t say anything. Ashley fought against the momentary panic. She had to get him to answer, she had to.
“I’m going back there.” She tapped the file with one finger, “I’m going back to where this person is killing these women. As soon as we’re done talking.”
Her father stiffened, “You know better, I taught you better.”
“No, you didn’t.” She allowed her anger to taint her voice, just a little, “You taught me to be afraid. You taught me that people lie. You taught me that the world is a cruel place.” She opened the other files, spreading the photographs across the surface of the table.
“You taught me what people are capable of. That a person could do something like this,” Ashley pointed to a picture of Madison Keller’s body, “and then go home and pretend like they weren’t a monster.” She gave him a moment, watching as he flinched, just a little, “I remember how tired you were, and I remember how relieved you were the day they came.” She pointed at the photographs again, “The person doing this, I don’t think they want to stop.”
Her father just looked at her, a single tear running down the side of his face.
“I am going back there.” Ashley said, “Because I have to stop them.”
Her father bowed his head for a moment, his shoulders shaking, just a little before he nodded. When he spoke, Ashley could only just make out the words, “She’ll kill you.”
Mountrail County, North Dakota, 1996
Her dad was angry and Ashley was afraid.
She couldn’t hide up in her room, he never liked that. She had to stay where he could see her. Had to stay quiet and do as she was told, he wasn’t asking too much of her. He always said that, and she guessed it was true.
Charlie stared across the table at her, his eyes wide. Dad didn’t get angry all that often, not like Shelley’s dad did, or Mr. Cross who lived in the big house down the street. They seemed to get angry a lot; her mom said that was why Mrs. Cross had gone away. She hadn’t wanted to live with such an angry man.
Ashley pressed her hands together between her legs, trying to hold as still as she could. She could hear her dad yelling at her mom in the kitchen;, she thought maybe everyone could, he was yelling so loud. Charlie flinched when there was a crash, something else broken, and he looked like he wanted to ask why, or go see what was happening. Ashley knew that was a bad idea.
Dad only got angry once a year, at least Ashley thought it was about that often. It was strange, and rare, and scary. She was glad he didn’t get angry like Shelley’s dad.
Charlie started to move and she kicked him under the table, shaking her head. They had to wait. The back door would slam, or dad would charge out of the kitchen, cursing, and go out the front door, then mom would come through.
Her mom’s cheeks were always a little damp, sometimes one was red, sometimes her mom would hold herself with the same care people did after they’d been hurt. Ashley never asked why, because mom had told her not to. Mom always just served dinner, like nothing was different, and then they’d go to bed, and her dad would come home late.
The door wouldn’t slam, but the stairs always squeaked.
Aaron had taken the time to get his notes together, Nancy starting her own hunt though their new suspects information before he headed to the conference room. There was a part of him that was frustrated with himself; he should have seen it before. He shook his head, that didn’t matter, he had figured it out now and he was sure that he was right, he had learned to trust his instincts years before; he just needed to convince Rossi.
And to do that he needed to have some information to back up his theory.
Ben looked up as Aaron stepped into the room, raising a dark eyebrow and Aaron nodded to him quickly before focusing on Rossi. “I think I might have interviewed the unsub this morning.”
Rossi lowered his pen to the table, the red one Aaron noticed absently, “What makes you think that?”
Aaron held his notes out to Rossi, waiting for the other man to take them before he answered the question, “I think he might have tried to implicate Malcolm Hunter.”
Rossi’s eyebrows rose, “The guy we just interviewed?”
Aaron nodded, “He gave a statement, saying he thought he’d seen a van, matching the general description of Hunter’s, close to one of the crime scenes.”
Rossi didn’t say anything, he just stared at Aaron.
“He didn’t make his statement until after the Sheriff had first spoken to Hunter, and, as far as I can tell, he had no reason to be in the area himself.” Aaron said.
Rossi looked back down at Aaron’s notes, scanning the page quickly, “He lives in Redmond?”
Aaron nodded, “He’s an accountant.”
Rossi frowned, “He did Veronica Kemp’s accounts.”
“He works for a lot of people, including relatives of some of the other victims, but these are close communities…” Aaron could remember his own words to Nancy, less than an hour before and he knew it could work against his theory.
“So there’s going to be a lot more overlap.” Rossi nodded, still reading over Aaron’s notes, “It’s worth following up on, let Katie and Daye know.”
Two hours later, Aaron was back at the desk he was sharing with Nancy and she was hanging up the phone. She made one last note, then pushed her pile of files over to him, resting her chin on her hand, “That is, to the best of my ability to compile, a full diary of the work that your suspect has been paid for over the last three years. I can go further back, but it’ll take me a while.”
“Thanks.” Aaron accepted the files, opening them and placing them alongside the timeline he’d been working on. He read the first few entries on Nancy’s list, before he went digging for the local map he had been using as a reference. He didn’t know the area well enough to gauge distances.
He traced through each job, making notes on a new sheet of paper. A lot of the jobs were long term and overlapped with others, but considering the type of work the man did, it wasn’t a surprise. Aaron winced when he spotted Hawke’s name. That was what made case investigations so much harder in rural communities. Everyone had some connection to everyone else. They used the same grocery store, their kids went to the same school.
It took less than an hour for Aaron to finish, and his final timeline made him feel a little sick, but it supported his suspicions.
“Hotch?” Katie appeared at his shoulder, leaning over to eye the list in front of him. He’d insisted that she use his nickname, if she wanted him to use her first name. She hadn’t argued. “That looks rather convincing.”
Aaron looked up at her, watching as she pursed her lips, considering. “The struggle will come when we actually go to bring him in for questioning.”
“His wife and kids?” Nancy, who had been listening in, winced.
“That,” Katie motioned to Aaron’s notes, “gives us reason to suspect him, but really all it says is that he was working in the right areas at the right times. He could have been home every night.”
“He gave a statement saying he had seen a van near the crime scene in Clearwater. Given the time he claims to have been there, he would have been home late that night.” Aaron said.
“What time did he say he’d seen the van?” Katie asked, looking at the map.
“Around ten in the evening.” Aaron answered.
“That is late.” She agreed absently, frowning.
“You don’t think it’s enough?” Aaron asked, and Katie sighed, shaking her head.
“I’ve read through his file, he does fit the profile. Oldest of three children, married with two of his own, he travels around for his job. The problem is still the lack of physical evidence. We can bring him in through.”
“He’s already been in for an interview.” Aaron pointed out and Katie nodded.
“I know, but it’s all we can do.”
She glanced sideways, straightening as she caught sight of Rossi, Ben, and Hamilton approaching, “Dave?”
Rossi waved a hand, “It’s time to break for the night. We’ll decide on a plan of action in the morning.”
Katie frowned, no doubt picking up on the same undercurrent to Rossi’s voice, “What is it?”
“It turns out that our unsub has been using silk ties to strangle his victims,” Rossi answered, “but it’s a different ties each time according to the fibre analysis.”
“Have they got anything else?” Katie asked, and Rossi shook his head.
“No, and they only looked into that much because I asked them to. It’s the only evidence that this guy has left at the crime scenes.”
“There’s something else.” Katie said, her eyes narrowed.
“I looked at Beauchamp’s financials,” Ben said, “he spends a lot of money on his kids, and he buys a lot of ties.”
“You mean his wife buys a lot of ties for him.” Katie said, and Ben shook his head.
“They have separate cards. I can tell which one of them has brought what, or at least make an educated guess. He buys flowers for her, she buys the groceries.” Ben shrugged, “I could be wrong.”
Katie frowned, glancing at Rossi, “And we’re leaving this until morning?”
Rossi shook his head, throwing a warning glance at Hamilton, “It’s getting late. We need to step back and come back in the morning. If it still looks like Beauchamp is a good suspect, we’ll act on it.”
“And if he kills again tonight?” Hamilton asked, impatience coloring the words.
Rossi shook his head, “If he does, and he’s our man, it’s on me.”
Aaron didn’t have a very restful night’s sleep. He woke early again, and phoned Haley. He just needed to hear the sound of her voice.
”It must be bad, if you’re calling me at this time in the morning.” She sounded sleepy, but she’d answered on the third ring.
Aaron winced, glancing at the clock, it was earlier for him. “It’s, it’s not worse than others, it’s just, more frustrating.”
”Hmmm, can you talk about it?”
Aaron sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily, “Not really, and to be honest, you don’t want to know.”
Haley sighed, he could hear her moving around their kitchen. He wished that he could be there instead of in North Dakota, even though he knew that, given the choice to make again, he would still choose the BAU. ”I was thinking…”
He smiled, glad that she wasn’t pushing, “About?”
”How big our house is.”
Aaron made a face, hoping that she wasn’t bringing up kids again.
”Don’t you make faces Mister,” she scolded. ”I was thinking about maybe getting a dog. It could give me kisses in the morning when you’re not here to do it.”
He laughed, “Are you trying to make me jealous of a dog we don’t even have?”
”Yet.”
Once they got to the station, Rossi and Katie took what they had to Hawkes, spending an hour closed away in the sheriff’s office. Aaron had looked up from his files every so often, watching Katie pace the office while Hawkes and Rossi sat on either side of the desk.
“Hotch,” Nancy drew his attention, before nodding behind him.
He frowned, turning. Hamilton was guiding a nervous-looking girl towards them. Her dark hair had been scraped back into a high ponytail, but she wasn’t wearing any make-up, and her hands were shaking.
“Aaron, would you look after Miss Saunders for a minute?” Hamilton used his most professional tone of voice, not waiting for Aaron to answer before he started towards Hawkes’ office.
Aaron managed not to let his irritation show, standing and offering his chair to the obviously shaken Miss Saunders. “Do you want some water?”
She shook her head, clasping her hands together on her lap; it wasn’t just her hands that were shaking.
Aaron glanced at Nancy, who shrugged. At a guess she’d come in because she knew something about the case, but Hamilton hadn’t said anything, and she was scared enough that Aaron was wary of doing anything but sitting with her.
Thankfully it hadn’t taken long for Katie to appear, Hawkes, Hamilton and Rossi a few paces behind.
Katie nodded to Aaron, motioning for him to move away, before she stepped forward, dropping to a crouch in front of Miss Saunders. “Agent Daye told us that you’ve come in to give a witness statement.”
The woman nodded after a moment, but she didn’t look up, “I saw the man you’re after.”
Hawkes started to say something, only to be cut off by a gesture from Katie, who backed it up with a sharp glare. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be clearer, who did you see?”
“I saw him murder that girl, two nights ago.”
Katie took a breath, “Ok. Was it a man you recognised?”
The woman shook her head, shifting a little, almost looking up at Katie, “No, but I can tell you what he looks like.”
Katie looked at Rossi who nodded. Katie turned back to the woman, her hands clenched at her sides, she wanted to reach out, but she couldn’t. It would have only made Saunders jump. “Is it ok if we show you some photographs?”
Saunders swallowed hard before nodding.
Katie offered her a smile, still resisting the desire to reach out to the younger woman, “OK.”
Rossi held out a pile of photographs he’d pulled from the files scattered across the desk in front of Nancy, and Saunders twitched suddenly, as though she’d just thought of something, looking to Katie, her eyes wide, “Wait, I, you’ll keep me safe?”
Katie nodded, reaching out to grasp Saunders’ hands, “We will keep you safe, I promise.”
Saunders looked up at Rossi, then Hamilton, then Hawkes before she nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing, just a little. “Ok.”
Katie squeezed Saunders hands again before letting go and taking the photographs from Rossi. “I’m going to show you each of these photos, if you see the man, let me know ok?”
Saunders took a deep breath before she nodded, “OK.”
Katie placed each photo back on the table after Saunders had seen it. Saunders didn’t react until the fourth picture. “That’s him.”
“I’m going to show you the rest of the photos, ok?”
Saunders frowned, clearly confused before she nodded, “OK.”
She didn’t react to any of the rest of the photos, though Aaron was aware of the glances she kept throwing at them. He guessed she must have thought they had another person in mind; she was looking for a sign. She wouldn’t know that they always showed all of the pictures, made sure that they didn’t show any preference to the witness.
They couldn’t lead them in any way. It had to be their identification.
“None of the others?” Katie asked.
Saunders shook her head and then pointed at the photo she’d identified, “That’s him. I saw him, before he caught up with her. I, I ran away after he dragged her off the road.”
Hawkes shifted, looking uncomfortable, while Rossi frowned. Aaron knew that, ideally, she should have come forward before, but she was clearly terrified. He couldn’t blame her for waiting.
Katie held up the photo for them to see, “It’s Beauchamp.”
As he climbed out of the car, Aaron had wished that he had been carrying both of his guns. He had worn his ankle holster for his first two weeks at the BAU, but it had started to feel a bit unnecessary when he was spending most of his time in the office. But being out in the field again, he missed the familiar weight of it.
It was always good to have a backup weapon.
After Saunders had ID’d Beauchamp, Hawkes had made the call. They would bring him in as an official suspect. They had enough for that.
Rossi and Hawkes lead the way to the front door; Aaron kept pace with Katie, a few feet behind while Hamilton and Deputy Campbell brought up the rear. He wanted to approach the house as he had during raids, but it was a weekend and Beauchamp had kids.
They had to do this as gently as possible, and that meant knocking on the door.
Aaron put his hand on the butt of his gun; he doubted he would need it, but he wanted to be able to cover Hawkes and Rossi if he had to. Katie did the same, edging to one side, placing them just out of sight behind and either side of the front door.
Hawkes stepped forwards, knocking on the door and waiting, Rossi half a step back. They didn’t have to wait long for it to open.
“Sheriff Hawkes.” Beauchamp’s wife, Kelly stood in the doorway, eyes widening as she took in the six law enforcement officers. She frowned, shifting her weight, “What’s going on?”
“We’re here to see your husband, ma’am.” Hawkes said.
“Charles,” Kelly shook her head, “I don’t understand. He gave his statement yesterday.”
“Kelly, there’s,” Hawkes hesitated.
“Your husband is a suspect.” Rossi took over, “We’re here to take him in for questioning.”
She stared at him blankly for a moment before she shook her head, “My husband would never…”
“There’s a witness, Kelly.”
She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand, just as a young girl came to the door, blue eyes widening. She glanced between her mother and the Sheriff, shifting. She was old enough to recognise that something was wrong.
“Mom?”
Her daughter’s voice spurred Kelly Beauchamp into action, reaching out to her daughter, pulling her to one side, “It’s ok ,Ashley.” She took a deep breath, meeting Hawkes’ gaze steadily, “He’s in his office upstairs.”
Rossi stepped forward, holding out a hand to her, “We can step outside, if you would rather.”
Kelly hesitated, her grip on her daughter tightening, ever so slightly, “My son…”
Rossi nodded his understanding, “I can look after her while you go get him.”
Kelly wavered, before she nodded stiffly, “Ashley, can you go with the nice man for a minute? I need to get your brother.” She gave her daughter a little push, but Ashley clasped onto her mother’s arm.
“Mom, what’s happening?”
Her mother wavered, shaking her head, “Ashley, sweetie, I just need you to go with him for a minute, I will be right back ok?”
Ashley stared at her mother for a long moment before she nodded, moving towards Rossi.
Aaron watched as Rossi guided the girl away before he turned. Kelly motioned for them to follow her into the house, stepping to one side as they reached the stairs, “He’s up there, second door on the left.” She nodded to them before turning away and heading further into the house.
Aaron glanced at Katie, who shook her head, expression grim. There was nothing they could do for his family, except get it over with as quickly, and with as little fuss, as possible.
They followed Hawkes up the stairs, and Aaron kept his hand on the butt of his gun.
Hawkes pushed the door to the office open without knocking, stepping in quickly, Katie on his heels while Aaron stayed in the doorway. Charles Beauchamp stood slowly, turning to face them, his hands in full view.
His was not the behaviour of an innocent man.
“Charles Beauchamp….” Hawkes read Beauchamp his rights as he cuffed him. Beauchamp didn’t struggle. Aaron thought that he almost looked relieved, like he’d wanted to be caught.
It seemed more likely that he’d just seen it coming. Aaron frowned at the thought, the only way he could have seen it coming was if he’d known there was a witness.
And that would have meant that, as he’d sat talking with Aaron the day before, he had known there was a witness out there. Saunders could have walked into the station while Beauchamp himself had been there. Aaron dreaded to think what could have happened.
Hawkes pushed Beauchamp towards the door, but the man struggled, motioning to the bottom drawer of his desk. “In there. I kept them all.”
“What?” Hawkes frowned at the other man, shaking him a little. Beauchamp didn’t answer.
Katie’s mouth thinned and she glanced at Aaron before she pulled a tissue from her pocket, covering her hand with it as she bent down. She hesitated for a moment, and then reached out to pull the drawer open. Inside was a collection of silk ties.
Aaron watched as Hawkes lead Beauchamp away, waiting until the door of the patrol car was shut before he made his way to Beauchamp’s car. He’d found the keys in the kitchen, just where Beauchamp had told him they would be.
He couldn’t believe that Beauchamp was just giving in to them like he was. He’d been killing for nine years, leaving no evidence behind that could be used to trace him, then when they’d come to his door, he’d just handed them what they needed.
Aaron unlocked the car, hesitating beside it for moment before he walked around to the other side. He covered his hand with his sleeve as he pulled the front passenger door of Beauchamp’s car open, leaning into to open the glove box. All he could see was a bulky object wrapped in cloth, he hesitated then stepped back. He wasn’t going to pull it out.
He heard Katie approach, her heels digging into the gravel drive, and he turned to face her.
“Is it there?” She asked, glancing past him, into the car.
Aaron nodded, “There’s something wrapped in a cloth, it’s big enough to be a knife.”
Katie shook her head, sighing. “He could have hid it somewhere better.” Aaron could hear the words that Katie wasn’t saying. He’d seen the way she’s looked at Beauchamp’s kids. She was thinking about how easy it could have been for one of the kids to find the knife.
“I doubt he’s ever let them sit in the front.” Aaron offered; his own father had been like that. It was a safety thing as much as a control thing. Kids were safer in the backseat.
Katie nodded absently, before she turned to look at the house, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I always hate it when their houses look this normal.”
Aaron wasn’t sure there was anything he could say that would make her feel better. He shifted his weight, glancing back to the car, then out to the street that was still full of law enforcement vehicles. He should call Haley, let her know that the case was done. That he would be coming home.
But he didn’t want to call her yet. He’d wait until he felt a bit more balanced.
Yes, they had caught the killer and they had enough evidence to guarantee that he would go to prison for a long time and they hadn’t needed to use their guns. But, he thought as he watched Rossi lead Beauchamp’s daughter to a car, people’s lives had been changed irreparably.
They could give the families of the victims some closure, but they couldn’t bring the victims back.
They had stopped Charles Beauchamp from killing again, but they also taken a father away from his children, and so much more.
It wasn’t a bloodless victory.
Part Six: Ashley