The Turing Test

Fandom: Bones/Criminal Minds/Grey’s Anatomy/Jossverse
Title: A Second Chance
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Character death, slash.
Spoilers/Timeline: Criminal Minds: Post Ashes and Dust, Pre- Legacy, Bones: Around Spaceman in a Crater, Grey’s Anatomy: Post- Some Kind of Miracle, Pre-Didn’t We Almost Have it All.
Note: Thanks to cflat for the beta.
Summary: The FBI comes to Seattle on the trail of a serial killer.
Disclaimer: None of these shows or their characters belong to me. Matt Nguyen, Mackenzie and Ben Tate are mine.

Original Posting Date: 31 December 2007



Day One

It hadn’t rained in a week, but the site was still muddy. Dr. Nancy Rollins watched as the undergrads slid about, trying to pound stakes into the unstable ground. The old graveyard on the edge of Discovery Bay was to be the subject of her grad student’s dissertation, and she’d been talked into holding a field school there as well by a desperate department chair. Both the university’s field schools had fallen through and she’d been properly convinced, so now two sets of undergrads were wandering about the site.

“Enjoying the show, Doc?” asked her grad student, Carter, who was carrying an armful of shovels.

“I’d enjoy seeing you do some work,” she said with a smile. “I’m expecting another chapter on Monday, no matter how much of a muddy mess this turns out to be.”

Carter trotted off to help set the squares, with a, “Yeah, yeah, doc!” thrown over her shoulder as she went to supervise the more experienced students.

Doctor Rollins headed over to her small group of first years. They were huddled next to the van, dressed in still spotless cargo pants and t-shirts. “Okay, we’re going to start you guys out on shovel tests,” said Rollins. They had gone over the procedure in class, so she handed each pair a shovel and walked them over to the far edge of the site. Last week’s remote sensing survey had shown nothing of immediate interest in the area, so it was a good place for the kids to practice.

“Okay, Casey, you and Chris have the first square, everyone walk off five feet.” Once everyone was situated, she let the students begin.

“Josh! Why are we doing shovel tests?” she called to one of the students working dirt through a mesh screen, expecting to get the textbook repeated back at her. The only answer was a scream.


Day Three

It had been a quiet week at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Penelope Garcia and J.J. Jareau had gathered around Reid’s desk.

“I figured it out,” said Garcia, resident techie, and computer goddess.

“Figured what out?” asked Reid, trying not to smile.

“How you make the rockets. Did you think my google-fu would fail me?” asked Garcia.

“Of course not,” replied Reid, a smile breaking out. “Now prove it.”

“Okay!” said Garcia enthusiastically as she set up the film canister. Before she could finish, Hotch interrupted.

“I know it’s been a quiet week, but we actually have a case. Gideon would like all of you in the conference room,” he said, before leaving to find Morgan and Prentiss.

“Ah, sorry Garcia, you’ll have to wait to prove your google skills,” said Reid as they cleaned up the experiment and then headed to the conference room.

When everyone was seated, Jason Gideon launched into the details. “Archaeologists near of Discovery Bay, Washington, were excavating a 19th century graveyard when they came across a recently deposited body. They brought in local police, who contacted us when they realized they might have multiple modern victims,” said Gideon. A picture flashed up onto the screen, a field of bodies each lying in a grave. “As of this morning, they’ve located what looks like sixty-two bodies, they’re still working on it. At this point, it is hard to tell which bodies are victims and which were originally buried there, so we’re taking a forensic team with us.” The next photo flipped onto the screen, a young woman still lying in the hole in which she had been buried. “The most recent victim is Tiffany Davenport, age 26. She was a graduate student at Seattle University, and lived in Seattle. She disappeared four weeks ago after being released from Seattle Grace Hospital after being checked out for vertigo.” Another click, another photo. “The body seems to have been buried in a cloth bag. However, both the bag and the body were disturbed during their exposure. Two undergrads from the University of Washington-Seattle, cut through the victim’s arm while digging a test pit.” Gideon silenced the projector, “Wheels up in forty minutes.”

The team scattered off to find what they needed before the plane took off. “Hotch,” said Gideon, grabbing Aaron Hotchner’s elbow, “we’re taking Dr. Brennan and her team with us, for the forensics. Thought I’d give you a heads up.” Hotch nodded and then headed out to get ready.

***

Zack Addy hadn’t seen Spencer Reid in almost a month. There was always an excuse: tough case, long case, too much paperwork. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how it went. There was always a case; there was always someone who needed their help. And sometimes the good guys paid when they tried to help. Zack had been blown up and Spencer had freaked out.

Zack had been sitting there in the lab, watching the news report his untimely death when Seeley Booth’s cell rang. He could only hear one side of the conversation, but even he could tell it was Hotch calling: because Spencer could not, or because Gideon was restraining him from grabbing the phone out of Hotch’s hands, Zack wasn’t sure. He sat, dazed, as Booth promised he was fine, a few scrapes and bruises and informed Hotch that the BAU in the guise of an irate Spencer Reid could not make an appearance at the Jeffersonian. There was still someone out there coming after them and no matter how upset Reid was they had to keep Zack’s cover. It took Zack almost a week to figure out the magnitude of the favor Booth had just done him.

As soon as Spencer had been allowed to, he’d come by the Jeffersonian to pick Zack up and take him home. There was junk food, Spencer adored junk food, and a Battlestar Galatica marathon, and their first kiss.

Now that it had been Spencer in danger, Spencer in the hands of a mad man, Spencer almost dead on the news and Hotch calling Booth to pass along information to Zack, it was different. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to talk, or even let Zack sit next to him and watch Stargate reruns, and he didn’t want the Jeffersonian helping out on BAU cases.

Oh, they’d seen one another around, it was impossible not to, though Zack thought Gideon might’ve had something to do with the frequency. There’d been nothing but shoptalk: dead bodies and serial killers.

Zack sighed, at least they’d made it on the plane before the BAU team arrived. He’d taken a seat in the back, so that Spencer could avoid him if he wanted to. He hoped not.

In the row in front of him, Angela and Hodgins flirted and Dr. Brennan ignored them, instead flipping through the case notes. The last of the maintenance crew departed, colliding with the BAU team, sans Agent Hotchner, as they made their way on to the plane. Zack wanted to hold his breath, but he told himself that was childish. Spencer would notice him whether he breathed or not. Gideon and Morgan took seat across from Dr. Brennan; Agent Prentiss slipped behind them, and then there was Spencer. He hesitated, looking at Zack, then at Gideon, and then back at Zack, before folding himself into the chair next to Zack.

“Hi,” he said, as if nothing had happened.

***

Hotch made it to the plane with only a few minutes to spare. Haley, his wife, never liked it when he went back to Seattle, and they had argued about it while he was packing. Their marriage had been even more strained while Hotch was stationed in Seattle and his going back there always put Haley on edge. Which put him on edge. Which wasn’t any good, especially when he was about to spend six hours on a plane with Seeley Booth.

“Hotchner!” called Booth even before Hotch had gotten all the way inside the plane.

Hotch suppressed a groan, that man was too cheerful for this hour of night. “Booth, good to see you again.” Booth hadn’t changed at all since the last time the two of them had worked a case together: a serial killer with a taste for burning his victims on Easter morning. Hotch and Booth had managed to get along for the first twenty minutes of the case, before Booth had abandoned all protocol and Hotch had gotten hoodwinked by Booth’s partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. They solved the case, they’d even both been right, which helped repair the relationship, but every time they worked together, something went spectacularly wrong. Still, Hotch liked the man, even though he and his partner were trouble.

Hotch made his way to the passenger compartment and took a seat in the front row. Booth sat down opposite of him.

“So, Hotchner, how’s it going?” asked Booth.

“Good,” replied Hotch. The plane rumbled and then started down the runway, and once they were in the air and had leveled off, Gideon started a discussion of the case. Crime scene photos were passed around the cabin, and the details of the crimes were discussed. Soon Booth moved to sit next to Dr. Brennan, leaving Hotch to rest his head against the side of plane and try to sleep. Within twenty minutes, Hotch and Gideon were the only people left awake on the plane. Reid had curled up against Dr. Addy, and both were oblivious to the world around them. Dr. Brennan was resting her head on Booth’s shoulder and he in turn was leaning against the bulkhead. In the next row, Angela and Hodgins were mimicking them.

***

Six hours later, the sun just rising above the horizon, the plane was on the ground at a positively tiny airstrip outside of Port Townsend, Washington.

“Why didn’t we come into Seattle?” J.J. asked Gideon, rubbing at her eyes and trying not to yawn.

“We’re going to the crime scene first, and it’s on this side of the Sound,” replied Gideon as he gathered his belongings.

Three black suburbans and a FBI tactical team were waiting for them as they exited the plane.

“Agent Hotchner, Agent Booth,” said the lead agent. “I’m Agent Rhodes, Seattle office. It’s about a ten minute drive from here, so pile in.”

Everyone loaded their equipment into the suburbans and then climbed into the cars with only a few minor squabbles about who would sit where. The lead car turned down the twisty mountain road. Soon they were pulling out of the woods into a small clearing.

Waiting for them was an older woman in khaki work pants, a t-shirt, and the ubiquitous Seattle flannel button up. “I’m Dr. Nancy Rollins, the primary investigator for the site. Sheriff Warren is waiting for all of you up at the site.”

Agent Rhodes indicated he’d stay with the cars and help the unloading process while the rest of them got a first look at the scene.

“Dr. Rollins, let me introduce you to the teams. I’m Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I’ll be running the psychological profile side of the investigation along with Special Agent Jason Gideon.”

Gideon shook Dr. Rollins’ hand. “You were the first person on the site?”

Gideon motioned the team to start walking as Rollins replied, “Carter’s been out here a few times, the Corps of Engineers guys before the project started, but yes, I was the first person out here with the field school.”

Dr. Brennan joined Gideon and Dr. Rollins, who continued, “The site is partially inundated, and the rest is swampy morass. Result of some bad development decisions in the '80's. My grad student, Carter Ramirez, is working on sites with land/water interfaces and the county wanted the site excavated and the bodies re-interned after they realized that the grave sites were eroding into the Bay. The two skeletons they recovered at that point were both deceased in the 1870s,” said Rollins as she pointed to the water. “Carter got a permit to excavate and we brought the university field school down here. We were here less then a week, the first day for the undergrads, when one of the freshmen found Tiffany Davenport. You can imagine the parents’ reactions.” Brennan nodded, and Rollins continued, “We called in the sheriff’s office, but Jefferson County is sparsely populated, mostly they pick up people for marijuana possession, petty vandalism, drunken bar fights.”

Brennan nodded, “You volunteered to help with the investigation?”

“Yes,” replied Rollins, “I’ve helped with a few crime scenes previously, and I didn’t want these guys to ruin the site. Even with the bodies, we’re still responsible for the site under the permit with the Corps of Engineers. Plus, the Sheriff only has so many men, so we have four rookies straight out of the police academy and five physical anthropology grad students who are getting some extra-credit. Carter stayed, but I sent the undergrads home. We already had a physical anthropologist and an archaeological conservator lined up, so we’ve kept them abroad. Dr. Nguyen doesn’t do forensic work though, so he suggested we call you, especially since the GPR turned up so many bodies. Several of which, we think were not interred in coffins, which seems unusual for this site.”

Dr. Brennan turned to Booth and Gideon. “GPR is ground penetrating radar. I asked that the site be mapped so that we could make sure that we recovered all the bodies.”

Both Gideon and Booth nodded, and Dr. Rollins continued, “They’re waiting for you before they start removing any of the bodies we’ve exposed. We’d already disturbed so much of the crime scene that Agent Rhodes had us go ahead and basically excavate the site. We sifted all the soil that was removed, and bagged both the soil and everything we’ve found.”

Once the crowd made it to the dig site, Dr. Rollins introduced them to the sheriff. “Dr. Brennan, this is Sheriff John Warren. John, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan, she’s a forensic anthropologist. I’ll let the agents introduce themselves.”

“Thanks for coming on out here folks,” said Sheriff Warren, “Hope you can figure this one out. Once you agreed to come out here, I had Tiffany Davenport’s body sent to the morgue at Seattle Grace because none of the local hospitals can deal with criminal autopsies on this scale. We sent all the evidence there as well, as Agent Booth asked.”

Each of the BAU agents introduced themselves to the sheriff along with Dr. Brennan’s team. “While Dr. Brennan gets set up, my agents are going to take a quick look at the site, if that’s okay with you, Sheriff Warren.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Agent Gideon, if you come with me,” replied Warren and then led the BAU team to the open grave sites. “We have maybe a murder a year, and usually they’re pretty cut and dry. Half of them happen during bar fights. We’re just not prepared to handle a crime of this magnitude.” Warren walked them to where the first body was found, “Nancy had the undergrads start digging test pits away from the main gravesites. It was just a teaching exercise until they dug a hole and brought up Tiffany Davenport’s severed hand. Nancy has a head on her shoulders, but panicking 18-year-old’s can do some damage. She got them all off the site and called 911.”

Gideon listened to the sheriff with half an ear, paying more attention to the surroundings as they walked. Morgan and Hotch followed. “There may not be a lot of physical evidence left,” said Morgan, surveying the site. “Normally a site this damp would have preserved the killer’s footprints, but with the archaeology crew tramping over everything for several days before anyone realized it was a crime scene, we’re not going to find any.”

“You’ll be surprised at what Dr. Brennan’s team can do,” said Hotch, as they knelt down by the hole in which Tiffany Davenport’s remains had been deposited.

On the far side of the site, Dr. Brennan assembled her team. “Hodgins, you’re on soil samples, water samples, anything that you think might help. Zack and I are going to split up, and each take a set of remains. We need as much preliminary data as possible before the sheriff’s men and the grad students can bag and tag.” She split up the rookies and the grad students into two teams. “Booth, you go with Zack and supervise his team. Make sure they don’t miss anything. Dr. Reid, can I draft you into supervising my team?” Zack and Dr. Reid had seemed to have made up on the plane, but splitting up the pair seemed like a better move for now.

“Sure,” said Reid, snapping on a pair of nitrile gloves.

“Agent Gideon,” called Dr. Brennan. “We’re ready.”

“You can start on this one, Dr. Brennan. Just let us know if we get in your way,” said Gideon.

“Okay,” said Brennan, “I’m going to start in on the first grave. Want to watch, Agent Gideon?”

“Sure,” replied Gideon squatting down beside the grave.

Brennan climbed down to the body. She hit the record button on her tape recorder. “The pronounced brow ridge and the jaw both suggest that the subject is male, buried recently, maybe six months ago.” She moved deftly in the hole, careful not to step on bones or other evidence. “The pelvis also suggests that the victim was male.” Brennan continued her examination. “Alright, that’s all we’re going to get from this one at the moment.”

One of the grad students gave Brennan a hand out of the grave and then dropped into the grave himself. One of the girls handed him down a body bag and then joined him in the grave. “They’ll pack up the bones, and the bones will be transported to the morgue in Seattle,” said Brennan. All in all, the process had taken about thirty minutes.

“This is going to take a while,” said Gideon.

“Well, we’ve got a couple hundred more graves to go,” replied Dr. Rollins.

“Okay then, J.J. should go to the Sheriff’s office to set up a base of operations for us.”

Gideon motioned to the blond agent, who promptly joined them

“Angela should go with her,” said Brennan.

“Officer Terrance can take them back to the station. It’s in Port Hadlock, about twenty minutes back up the road,” added Sheriff Warren, motioning on of his men over. “Pete, take these people back up the office and let them set up.”

Pete nodded, and the group piled back in one of the suburbans and were gone.

Zack was down in a grave, and Booth was trying to make sure that his two grad student and three rookies didn’t step on a vital piece of evidence. Which would have been fine, but one of the grad students, Rona, a African-American girl with hundreds of braids, kept staring at him. At first he though it was the same look her fellow grad student, a white girl who looked like even Washington’s pale sun was going to turn her into a lobster, was giving him. A look that said, yes, Seeley Booth is still attractive to the ladies. The look Rona was giving him was part confusion, part recognition, and part fear, and it was freaking Booth out. Thankfully, she joined Zack down in the pit with the body and Booth was safe from her stares for a moment.

Morgan walked the site as Dr. Brennan’s team examined and excavated the bodies. “I’m the unsub,” he said to Gideon, “Why do I pick a graveyard? Is it just because the site is inconspicuous, or is there something symbolic? Am I burying them for a purpose?” Morgan walked away from the noise of the forensics team and back towards where Davenport had been found. “She wasn’t buried among the original graves, or in a coffin.”

“She was buried deeper then we normally see in this sort of case,” replied Gideon, “The unsub had time. He didn’t feel rushed and was confident that no one was going to see him.”

“We don’t have enough evidence yet,” replied Morgan, frustrated.

“Try it again after the bodies are removed and we know more about them,” replied Gideon. He looked up as Reid approached them. “Anything?”

“Dr. Brennan is going to send the first set of bodies to the hospital with Agent Booth. She thinks that it will take several more hours before they’re done here. So far, they’ve exposed two bodies that may have also been victims. Both were sewn into cotton bags, which indicates that the burial were recent. Cotton doesn’t hold up well in these conditions,” replied Reid, barely pausing to take a breath. “One,” he said, slower this time, “One of the bodies found sewn into a cotton bag was an infant.” Reid paused again, “Less then six months old.”

“We’re not getting anything here,” said Gideon, reigning in his anger. “You can stick with Dr. Brennan. Morgan and I are going to go back to the station with Sheriff Warren. Let us know if you find any new information.”

***

Brennan sent Booth ahead with the first of the bodies, under strict order not to let anyone touch the remains until she arrived. He took the opportunity to sleep in the car.

“Agent Booth?”

Booth finished exiting the van and turned to the doctor. “Yes?”

“I’m Chief Richard Webber. I thought I’d come and meet you. Our pathologist is on vacation for the next two weeks, so you’ll have the morgue mostly to yourselves. Dr. Kalimar from Seattle Presbyterian will be covering for our pathologist if you need anything, and Dr. Nguyen will be here shortly.”

“Thank you, Dr. Webber,” said Booth, shaking the man’s hand. Hospitals were never Booth’s favorite place, but somehow escorting the dead victims here was worse. They would never have a chance to recover. Booth followed Dr. Webber to the morgue, the paramedics with the remains, close on their heels. It only took a few minutes for the paramedics to deposit their charges and head back to the scene.

“I have to go back upstairs, but would you like a cup of coffee?” asked Dr. Webber.

“That would be great,” replied Booth, more looking forward to the company than the coffee.

Twenty minutes later, Booth’s coffee arrived. “Hi, you’re Agent Booth? I’m Meredith Grey,” she said with a smile, and handed him the coffee.

“You’re a doctor here?” he asked between sips.

“I’m a surgical intern,” she replied, fidgeting a bit with her light brown hair. She looked too young to be a doctor.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he replied. “I guess you don’t usually hang out down here.”

“Not usually,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the body bags.

“It’s not bad for a morgue,” he replied.

Reid and the second wave of remains interrupted them.

“How many bodies are coming in?” asked Meredith, incredulously, as the paramedics placed body bags onto metal gurneys.

“A lot,” was Booth’s reply. “But most of them have been dead since 1850, so nothing to worry about.” He watched as one of the paramedics checked her out, the man was a little obvious, and the intern blushed.

“I have to go,” said Meredith, fidgeting a bit, with a final, “bye,” she was out the door and on her way up stairs with out a word from him.

“What, no coffee for me?” said Reid, as he watched the intern leave.

“You didn’t ask nice,” replied Booth, as he held the doors open for the paramedics.

“This is the last of this set, Agent…” said the paramedic, fishing for a name.

“Booth.”

“Agent Booth. We’ll be back in a couple hours with the final round.”

“Thanks…” said Booth, letting his voice trail into a question.

“Henry Corbin,” replied the paramedic, “And my partner’s Nate Seeb.”

“Thanks, guys,” said Booth.

After the paramedics left, Reid paced the morgue.

“Reid,” Booth shouted, “Sit down, or at least stop moving. Or better yet, go find more coffee.”

Reid considered Booth’s outburst for a moment “Would you like another cup?” With Booth’s nod, Reid headed out to find the cafeteria.

By the time Hotch arrived, J.J. had cleared out a conference room for the team to use as their base of operation, hijacked a coffee maker and had ordered take out. The BAU team didn’t operate with out coffee.

Gideon, Morgan and Prentiss trailed in, all three muddy. Once the Chinese food was distributed and everyone had something to drink, they got to work.

Brennan and Zack came in with the last wave of bodies. The sun had gone down hours ago, they were tired, hungry, covered in mud, and Zack seemed to be missing a shoe.

“Bones!” called Booth as she appeared in the morgue.

“Dr. Brennan. Zack, what happened to your shoe?” Reid said.

“It’s floating its way to the Pacific Ocean. I made an unintended entrance into Discovery Bay,” explained Zack as he tried to avoid dripping on the floor.

“Now that the remains are all safely locked up for the night, how about some dinner and some sleep?” asked Booth. He knew Bones would stay up all night if he let her and no one would get any sleep. Seeing as how this could be a long case, there was no need to start off with a sprint.

“Well, I guess food would be nice, and clean clothes,” said Bones, and Booth could tell she was already thinking about how nice a shower would be.

“Hodgins is at the hotel with the luggage. Hotchner threw in your suitcase too, Reid. How does pizza sound?” asked Booth, knowing both Reid and Zack would agree.

In the end, even Bones wanted pizza, and he sent them off to the hotel, while he interrogated one of the interns, a Dr. Stevens, on where to get the best pizza in Seattle.


Day Four

Booth, knowing how the squint digestive system worked, had slipped out of the hotel at five to get donuts and coffee. By the time he’d gotten back, everyone was up and hovering in the lobby. He handed them each a bag of donuts and passed around the coffee before herding them into the car. This early in the morning there was no fighting over shotgun, instead three zombie like faces stared back at him from the rearview mirror. They made it to Seattle Grace without incident, though Dr. Reid had tried to talk him into stopping for more coffee on the way there.

By ten o’clock Brennan and Zack had sorted the remains into three categories: definitely modern, definitely not modern, and three unknowns. Only a few of the bodies still had flesh left, and those she sent over to Dr. Kalimar. The bodies they’d decided were not murder victims, at least not in the last seventy years were passed on to Dr. Nguyen. The rest were her turf.

“Have you seen the FBI guys?” whispered Meredith to Izzie as they followed Bailey on rounds.

“Hotness must be a requirement,” replied Izzie.

“Why’d they bringing the victims here?” asked Cristina, “They’re all dead. No cool surgeries.”

“People!” interrupted Bailey, “This is rounds, we pay attention during rounds! And we’re taking the victims because Seattle Presbyterian is taking the heat wave victims and we’re the only two hospitals with the capacity for that many casualties. Now, we’re going to go into Mr. Weir’s room. No more talk of serial killers,” said Bailey sternly.

The interns followed her into the room, and Bailey motioned for George to present. “Mr. Weir has diabetic complications,” George continued on presenting Mr. Weir’s case as Cristina and Meredith quietly discussed the serial killer.

The interns exited the room and Bailey started assigning them their cases for the day. “Yang, you’re on Mr. Weir’s case,” said Bailey interrupting the conversation. “Grey, Dr. Burke has requested you. Karev, you’ve got Dr. Montgomery. Stevens, you’re in the pit. And O’Malley, since you were paying attention today, you’ve got the morgue.”

“What?” asked George.

“The Chief asked me to send one of you down to make sure Dr. Brennan has everything she could possibly need. You will be polite, you will be helpful, and you will do whatever the good doctor asks you to do. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” George hurried down the hall and out of Bailey’s way.

***

“Dr. Brennan?” George asked as he entered the morgue. The place always gave him the creeps. It was too dark, too damp and had too many dead people.

“Dr. Brennan’s busy, can I help you?” asked Booth.

“Oh, I’m Dr. O’Malley, George… I mean, the Chief sent me to make sure that Dr. Brennan had everything she needed and pretty much be a gopher for the day?”

“I’m Agent Booth.” Booth shook the young doctor’s hand, “Dr. Brennan’s on the phone with D.C.”

“Oh,” said George. The two men stood there for a moment.

“You might as well sit down,” said Booth, “I’ve been playing tic-tac-toe against myself for the last couple hours. An opponent is welcome.”

They hadn’t gotten through the first round, when the morgue’s doors opened again.

“Hello?”

“Yes, ma’am?” asked Booth.

“Oh, I’m Dr. Mackenzie Tate, Dr. Brennan called me about the coffins?” said the young woman. A boy, maybe seven, stood behind her.

Booth got up, “Yes, she let me know you were coming. I’m Agent Seeley Booth.”

“It was short notice, so I have Ben with me,” said Dr. Tate looking nervously at the body bags.

Booth, picking up on the signal, said, “Dr. O’Malley, I have a job for you.” Booth sent George off to distract Dr. Tate’s son, while Dr. Tate joined them in the morgue.

“All the bodies have been removed from the coffins,” said Booth, “What exactly are you going to do with them?”

“First we’ll do some wood analysis, and then all of the ones that aren’t related to your murder case will be conserved,” Dr. Tate. “Dr. Rollins said that at least one of the coffins may be lead. That will be the hardest one to treat.”

“Dr. Tate!” said Dr. Brennan as she returned to the morgue. “Thank you for coming. Dr. Rollins informed me that you were already going to conserve the artifacts on site under the original permit, so I thought if you were able, you could still do that. Dr. Nguyen and I are almost positive that none of the coffins housed any modern remains.”

“That’s fine with me, Dr. Brennan. I can bring them over to the lab whenever you’re ready, but since they were under the waterline, all the artifacts should be kept wet if at all possible,” said Dr. Tate.

“Yes, Dr. Nguyen passed that along. I think he’s got them in some tubs the hospital usually uses for hypothermia,” replied Brennan.

“That sounds like Mark,” said Dr. Tate with a smile.

***

Hotch and Reid wandered down the basement hall looking for Seattle Grace’s morgue. “I think we were supposed to turn right…”

“Uncle Spencer!” cried the little boy before he launched himself into Reid’s arms. Hotch just stared.

“Hey kiddo,” said Reid, “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s in the morgue, with Dr. Brennan. I’m supposed to be waiting here for her with Dr. O’Malley,” said the young boy, pointing to the young doctor who looked a bit harried.

“Sorry, sir,” said George, “I can take him if you’d like?”

“No, no,” replied Reid, “It’s okay, but could you let Dr. Tate and Dr. Brennan know that we’re here?”

“Sure,” and then George was off.

Reid turned his attention back to Ben, “So, how’s school going?”

“Pretty good,” said the little boy, “We’re learning about the water cycle. Y’know, the clouds make the rain, and the rain falls on the ground and lakes and then the water from the lakes is evaporated and goes and makes clouds again. It’s cool because it just keeps going and going.” The explanation was adorned with circular hand gestures. “And my teacher is so cool. She’s a doctor, like mom, and she used to study squid!”

“Did you know that the colossal squid has the largest eyes of any animal?” Reid asked Ben.

“That’s awesome, does that mean that they can see farther than people, or are their eyes just really big?”

Before Reid could answer the question, he was interrupted by Dr. Brennan and another woman who Hotch assumed was Dr. Tate. Reid put the boy down and then hugged Dr. Tate. “Mackey, this is Agent Aaron Hotchner, my boss. Hotch, this is Dr. Mackenzie Tate; we went to summer school together.”

“I didn’t think you needed summer school,” said Hotch.

“No, no,” said Mackey with a laugh, “It was a program for gifted kids. We took quantum mechanics together.”

“That seems more like Reid,” said Hotch with a bit of a smile. “So, you’re a physicist?”
Hotch couldn’t miss the slight shadow that passed over the doctor’s face.

“No, I’m actually here for the coffins. Because of the water inundation on the site, the coffins and any of the wooden objects found on the site have to be kept wet until they can be preserved. It’s part of the original permit, and everything was brought here. I just stopped by to arrange for transportation,” replied Mackey.

“We’ve sorted all the bodies…” started Brennan, before Reid interrupted.

“I’m going to take Mackey and Ben up to the cafeteria,” he said with a nod to Hotch. Reid swung Ben up on his hip and headed to the elevator, Mackey following along.

When they were out of earshot, Hotch turned to Brennan, “You were saying?”

“We’ve sorted all the bodies,” said Brennan. “204 of the bodies were interred between 1850 and 1930. Twenty-nine bodies, including Tiffany Davenport’s, were interred at some point in the last ten years. Of those twenty-nine, twelve were interred in the last two years,” said Brennan looking at her case notes. “We’re still running tests, but at least nineteen of the bodies were interred in cotton bags.” Hodgins had taken over a pathology lab to do those tests, and had acquired his own intern to fetch things at his beck and call.

“Okay,” replied Hotch, “We can assume those twenty-nine bodies were all victims of a crime, possibly all from the same unsub.”

“Booth and Reid managed to ID three of the latest victims. We were able to get finger prints from the remains. Your tech person, Garcia? She said that all three of them went missing after visiting this hospital.”

***

Meredith pulled Izzie into the storage closet. “I can’t take it anymore. You’d think Derek was a stalker. He’s everywhere!”

“Seriously?” asked Izzie.

“Seriously. It’s like he thinks I’m going to jump off something any second, and Cristina has gone crazy about all this wedding planning, or not-planning or whatever!” replied Meredith.

“Calm down before you hyperventilate,” said Izzie.


Day Five

Meredith walked out of the ER doors into the ambulance bay. It was just starting to get dark, but she needed a break from the five sets of sutures she had just done. Things around the hospital had finally gotten back to normal, at least whatever consisted of normal around here. The routine of surgery and rounds felt comfortable, and people had finally stopped looking at her as if she was going to fall back in the bay at any second. Dr. Burke had even requested her on an angioplasty this morning. She took a deep breath and start to turn, intending to go back inside. Derek had asked for her on a hemispherecotomy. Instead, everything went dark.

***

Brennan walked among the laid out bones in the morgue. Dr. Kalimar had taken the corpses to the back of the morgue, and Dr. Nguyen was working on the historic remains, which left her with the potential murder victims and a mystery.

Hodgins shoved his way into the morgue. “Dr. Brennan!” he called excitedly.

“What do you have?”

Hodgins held up a soil sample triumphantly, “The soil sample from victim three, it’s definitely not from around here. In fact, I would say that the victim was previous interred somewhere in western Illinois.”

“That’ll narrow it down enough for a missing person’s search,” replied Reid, and flipped open his phone, dialing Garcia.

It had gotten dark, and Bailey had paged Grey five times, each time the feeling of dread growing stronger. She’d asked O’Malley, then Yang and Karev, even Dr. Torres. No one had seen her in hours. With the Chief’s permission, Bailey organized the search for Meredith Grey. Herding her panicking interns and attendings; trying to make sure all the bases were covered. “Sloan,” she said quietly, “Go with Sheppard. If we don’t find her, he’s going to need you.” Then Bailey went back to ordering her search teams to their designated units.

***

Two interns barged into the cafeteria and started searching the place. Reid looked up from the donut he had been eating in line, “Excuse me,” he said to the blond woman who was looking a bit frantic. “Can I help you?”

“You’re one of the FBI guys, from the morgue?” she asked.

“Yes, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Izzie Stevens. One of our interns is missing. Meredith Grey. She’s short, light brown hair; she was wearing light blue scrubs. We’ve paged her five times. She was supposed to scrub in on a hemispherectomy. No one would miss that on purpose,” said Izzie.

“When was she last seen?”

“Lunch time. Maybe 12:30? We ate in the coma guy’s room, she was paged and left. No one’s seen her since. People are saying all of those dead people, the ones in the morgue, were taken from here. What if the same guy got Meredith?”

Reid flipped open his cell and dialed Hotch, “Hotch, an intern from Seattle Grace, Meredith Grey, just disappeared. No one has seen her since lunch.”

Reid listened for a moment, and then flipped the phone shut. By this time, other intern joined them. “I’ve let my boss know, so they’ll keep an eye out for her. You’re sure she’s not just not answering her pager?”

“She had surgery with McDreamy, er… Dr. Derek Sheppard?” said Izzie, like Reid would know what it implied.

The other intern said, “Wait, the hemispherectomy? You think he’d let me scrub in?”

“Cristina! No. Also, he pushed the surgery; he went to our house to look for her.”

“Oh, well, she’s not in the hospital. Alex even checked Joe’s, she not there either,” said Cristina.

Reid turned as Hotch pushed his way into the cafeteria, cell phone still in hand.
Hotch replied, “I’ve heard, Chief Webber caught me just before Reid called. I’ve called in the local field office to provide extra security for the hospital. In the meanwhile, we’re going to organize a search.”

“Thank you,” replied Izzie as her pager went off.

“Still haven’t found her?” asked Reid.

“No sign of her,” replied Hotch, “One of the nurse’s in the ER saw her step out to the ambulance bay. She drove in this morning with her boyfriend. His car is still here, and none of her friends drove her anywhere today. I have them pulling all the security tapes from the last ten hours and having them sent to Garcia.”


Day Six

Twelve hours later, Hotch listened intently to his cell phone, wishing he had gotten more sleep or that Meredith Grey had reappeared.

“See,” said Brennan, “This is where we have a problem. We have tentative causes of death for all 29 victims, but they’re not the same. Five gunshot wounds, four drowning, four blunt trauma, three people had their hearts removed, three died of exsanguination, two died of anaphylaxis, two were stabbed, two were strangled, one hung, one suffocated, and one was pushed off a building. On top of that, their ages range from six months to eighty-five years.”

“That’s a strange mixture,” said Hotch, looking puzzled at his cell phone.

“We still think it was the same killer or killers. Each of the victims was sewn into a cotton bag, whereas half of the nineteenth century bodies were in coffins and the other half in pine boxes. Booth and Angela have identified the last of your victims for you.” Brennan reported. “Also, on the least decomposed remains we found traces of olive oil on the forehead, eye, ears, mouth, genitals, hands, and feet. Booth suggested that this may have been the killer’s attempt to give his victims last rites.”

“Thanks, Dr. Brennan,” said Hotch, and then closed his phone.

Hotch’s next stop was to one of the hospital’s conference room. Gideon had taken over the room as an impromptu interrogation room and was questioning the staff. As he approached the room, Hotch watched as several doctors dispersed.

Derek Sheppard sat at the table, his head in his hands, looking as if he hadn’t slept in a month. “She almost drowned in Elliot Bay four months ago,” he said without prompting. “There was this thing, one of the ferries was hit by a container ship, and we were called to the scene. She fell in, was pushed by a convulsing patient, and no one saw it. I barely pulled her out in time. She was so blue. I just… I just got her back. I don’t understand how she can be gone again,” said Sheppard in between sobs.

Gideon place his hand on the doctor’s arm, but the he just cried harder, “I was supposed to be watching her. I did, I promise, I watched, I was so careful. She knew how to swim, and I was supposed to be watching her.” Gideon let him continue briefly.

“Have you noticed anyone strange following her around lately? Or anyone out of the ordinary taking interest in her?” asked Gideon softly.

“No, I haven’t noticed anyone. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” said Gideon softly. He looked up as Hotch stuck his head in the door.

“Okay,” he said. “Those are all the questions I had.” Sheppard stood slowly and left the room, but didn’t make it far before he was intercepted by Dr. Montgomery and Dr. Sloane.

“That looked rough,” said Hotch to Gideon.

“I didn’t think he had anything to do with this, and now I’m convinced. That man is broken. If we don’t find her alive, he won’t ever recover,” Gideon said. “He didn’t see anyone or anything.”

“No one suspicious at all?” asked Hotch, slightly amazed, “She did disappear from the hospital, and we know that several of the other victims were linked to this place as well.”

“Morgan is interviewing her fellow interns next door, maybe they’ll have seen something.”

Morgan sat back as Izzie Stevens, once model, now a doctor on probation told him her entire life story and as much hospital gossip as he’d let her.

“Meredith and McDreamy, that’s Dr. Sheppard, McDreamy is just his nickname, because Meredith and Cristina thought he was hot, not that he isn’t because he is. Anyway, they met at Joe’s before our first day of work, and hooked up, but he didn’t tell her that he was still married to Dr. Montgomery, except she was still Dr. Montgomery-Sheppard at that point, and then she showed up here, and they tried to get back together again, and Meredith was sad and dated a vet. Oh, and Dr. Sloan followed her here, Mark Sloan, McSteamy, he’s a plastic surgeon and he’s the reason Dr. Sheppard and Dr. Montgomery broke up in the first place,” said the girl all in one breath.

Morgan let the girl continue on, trying to direct the flow of conversation to a clue, any clue that would help them find the missing intern.

***

It was all Derek could do to keep moving forward. He leaned heavily on Mark, trying not to trip over his own feet.

“Come on,” said Mark gently, “We’re gonna go to the on call room, and you’re going to lay down for a bit. Addison went to get you some water.”
“Did I do something wrong?” asked Derek as he collapsed onto the bed in the on call room. Mark perched on the bed and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, saying nothing.

Gideon starred intently at the corkboard, as Reid tack another photo up. “This is what we know so far. “We have twenty-nine victims, both male and female, of varied ages and race,” said Reid. “He’s good at what he does professionally. On the job he seems charming and in control. He has some professional connection to this hospital.”

“Sheppard isn’t our target, he’s too distraught. Meredith Grey was his world,” said Gideon.


Day Seven

“Dr. Brennan just called,” Hotch told Gideon and Morgan, “Garcia’s tracked down most of our victims. The last 12 victims have been from Seattle, but before that the victims are spread out all over the country.”

“So our unsub,” said Morgan, “experienced some extra stressor about 12 months ago, which both accelerated his killings and forced him to stay in the area.”

“Even better, of the twelve that were taken from Seattle, ten of them had been admitted to Seattle Grace hospital in the last two years. The last out of town victim is Charles Corbin, 32, from Indianapolis, Indiana. He was a used car salesman and had also been in the hospital before his death,” said Hotch. “I’m going to head back up there. I’ll meet you at the Sheriff’s office.”


Day Eight

Three days later and they were no closer to finding Meredith Grey, and Hotch was getting anxious. Their unsub was playing smart. He hadn’t contacted the media, hadn’t sped up his killing spree, and hadn’t made a mistake as far as the BAU could find. And with a profile that mainly consisted of educated white male, they were getting no where. Hotch had volunteered to drive Mackenzie Tate back to her house just to get out of the tiny room in sheriff’s office. Reid had driven her up the Peninsula to look at some of the artifacts that Dr. Rollin’s team had excavated from several layers under the graves.

“You don’t really know Spencer that well, do you?” asked Mackey as she fidgeted in the passenger seat. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen dead bodies before. She had held hundred-year-old skulls before, even the femur of a Neanderthal once. They’d never had skin though, hadn’t been alive just last week. The whole thing was making her nervous. When she was nervous, she talked.

“We work together, but he’s a private man,” responded Hotch, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Spence? He didn’t used to be. I mean, he was sort of a quiet kid, but then most of us were. I think its easier being a genius when you’re a teenager. Pretending to be an adult is hard work,” she said with a smile.

A hint of curiosity broke through, and Hotch asked, “So what was Reid like as teenager? I always assumed he spent his formative years studying.”

“Oh, I’m not saying we didn’t study. There was studying, and research, and lab work. Spence always liked to goof around in the lab, and Cameron, that’s was his roommate, liked to goad him on. We’d build baking soda and vinegar rockets, and he taught us how to set our hands on fire without getting burned,” said Mackey, gazing out the window. “You don’t even want to know how much glassware we broke.”

A hint of a smile crossed Hotch’s face, he could imagine Reid not being the most graceful lab partner. “He still sets off those rockets, usually in the office.”

Hotch’s cell phone interrupted the conversation. “Hey, Gideon,” he said. Mackey couldn’t hear the conversation, but from Hotch’s expression, it wasn’t good. “I’ll be right there.” Hotch turned to Mackey, and explained, “They’ve found another body, it looks like our guy. I need to get to the site, can I drop you off somewhere, maybe back at the sheriff’s?”

“Don’t worry about. I can wait in the car, if that is more convenient for you. I have a book,” she said with a smile.

“Sure,” replied Hotch, and then headed to the site.

***

“It’s the missing girl,” said Gideon, as Hotch stepped out of the car, “Meredith Grey, same as the others, sewn into a cotton bag.”

“Damn,” Hotch walked over to take a closer look at the body. “No witnesses?”

“No,” replied Gideon, “Our unsub is getting more confident or more reckless. Anyone could have seen him here, and he had to pass next to a naval base to get here.”

“Agent Hotchner,” waved Hodgins from where he stood, water up to his knees, “I’ve taken some water and soil samples. We should be able to tell you if she drowned here soon.”

“Thanks Hodgins,” Hotch replied, and then turned to Gideon, “Any other physical evidence?”

“Morgan found foot prints, but there are possibly five different sets, so they’re going into the lab.”

“It’s strange that the unsub has changed his burial method,” said Hotch crouching beside the body.

“He obviously knows that we’re staking out the graveyard, hoping he’ll return to the scene of the crime. It is the change from a deep burial, to leaving the body in the water that worries me. Is he devolving, or maybe he was interrupted? Or, perhaps the burial isn’t part of the signature. It could have been his way of confusing the evidence.” Gideon paced the site, staying out of Morgan’s way as he retraced possibly paths for the unsub.

“Gideon,” Morgan said, getting both Gideon and Hotch’s attention, “The unsub had to drive in. This site is almost thirty minutes from the graveyard, and this site is even more difficult to get to. He had no easy escape route, unlike the last site, and a higher probability of someone noticing him.”

“He’s highly organized,” replied Hotch, “There’s no way he could have done this without previous planning. He must have already scouted out alternative dumpsites for his victims. Who knows how many he’s scouted out.”

“But we know that he has killed victims all over the United States, so why is his back up site so close to the original site? This area must be important to him, or his mobility may be some how limited,” Gideon said.

The three men returned to the car as the paramedics packed Meredith Grey’s remains into a body bag. “Preliminarily, we can say that he’s a white male, intelligent, perhaps even charming. None of the bodies show any sign of struggle,” said Hotch.

“Confident enough to take a body on the ferry and to dump it by a naval base,” Gideon said.

“We still don’t have a victimology,” replied Morgan, “If we’re going to catch this guy, we’re going to have to figure out why he’s picking these people.”


Day Nine

“Booth,” said Brennan, “I think we’ve figured it out.”

Booth looked up from the file he was reading. “What have you got for me, Bones?”

Brennan nodded to Zack, who replied, “Meredith Grey was the key. And, once we identified the rest victims, we noticed a pattern. Each victim was killed in the same manner as they had previously almost died.”

“Seriously?” asked Booth.

“Look,” replied Brennan, “The water found in Meredith Grey’s lungs wasn’t that of Kilisut Harbor. It also isn’t that of Elliot Bay, where she almost drown four months ago. It’s tap water. Hodgins is currently trying to tie the water with a local water plant, but no luck as of yet.”

“She was knocked into Elliot Bay about six months ago, and drowned. She was revived at Seattle Grace hospital, had no lasting effects, and went right back to work,” added Zack.

“Kelsey McGregor, Donovan Hale, and Taneisha Pitt, the three victims with missing hearts? They all under went heart transplants,” said Brennan.

“Okay, so we’re looking for a guy who kills people with a second chance at life?” asked Booth, incredulously.

“That’s what it looks like. It looks like our killer may have had some medical training. Not a surgeon, the hearts were removed incorrectly, not the way that they would have been removed in a heart transplant patient,” said Brennan. “We also found traces of drugs in Meredith Grey’s system. Which fits with the physical evidence, she was unconscious when she was drowned. I think the killer knocked her out, and she never regained consciousness before her death.”

“That gives us enough for a profile,” said Gideon. “Our unsub is a white male between 20 and 35 years old. He is recently separated from his wife. He has a college education, and works in a medical field. No previous criminal history. He is delusional, but intelligent, and will seem normal, even charming to his friends and neighbors. The unsub lives some where between Seattle and the Discovery Bay grave yard. He has a connection to this hospital.”

“And he’s going to strike again at some point this week, he’s decreasing his time between kills,” said Gideon, looking at the files spread across the table. “I’ve got Garcia combing through medical records, but I don’t know if she’ll be able to find anything. We don’t have enough to go on yet.

“We need another victim,” said Hotch.


Day Twelve

It could be grueling, sitting around, waiting for a break in the case. Another victim, another clue, maybe just some inspiration. Hotch was trying not haunt the hospital, but he had nothing to do but pace and think.

Day Fourteen

“Spencer! Spencer!” screamed Mackey. Reid turned around and caught the distraught woman in his arms. “Ben is gone!” she managed to get out between sobs.

“Wait, take a breath,” said Reid, “What happened?”

“I was coming to hospital to talk to Dr. Brennan. I turned around in the parking lot, I had my back to him for less then a minute, and when I turned back he was gone.”

Reid flipped open his phone and explained the situation to Hotch. He closed the phone and explained to Mackey, “Hotch is alerting security and they’re searching the area. It’s going to be okay, they’ll find him.”

***

Hotch handed a cup of coffee to Mackey. “Anything you could tell us might be helpful,” he said in his best sympathetic voice, internally cursing himself for wishing for another victim. “Do you want us to call anyone? Ben’s father?”

“Ben, well, he wasn’t exactly planned. I was finishing up my B.A. at UNLV, and I got pregnant. He was born premature and he had a hole in his heart. It was fixable, the doctors, they fixed his heart.” Mackey scrubbed at her face, “We made it through my Ph.D. and I got a great job up here. I though the worst was over.”

“I hate to ask this, but is Reid the father?”

“No,” she replied, taking a sip of coffee. “I was young, and I though I was the smartest person in the universe, and I slept with my Topology professor. He was Spence’s advisor, and he was just this guy, and it happened.”

***

Hodgins rubbed his eyes. They had been working on this case for two weeks now, and nothing seemed to be going their way. It was late, almost midnight, and he wanted to go to sleep. Just one more sample to process, so he took a swig of his coffee and set about analyzing a dirt sample from the first victim.

Twenty minutes later, Hodgins looked up from his equipment and smiled. “Dr. Brennan!” called Hodgins. “You need to see this. Our first victim, the one we don’t have a clear ID on yet, her remains have traces of moderately thick loess over loamy glacial till soil. She was moved, probably from the Indianapolis area.”

“Wait. Indianapolis?”

“Yes,” said Hodgins, nodding.

“I think,” said Brennan, grabbing a file and flipping through it, “She’s Marlene Corbin, our seventeenth victim’s, Charles Corbin, mother,” said Brennan.

“Charles Corbin has an older brother, Henry. He lives in Seattle, and he fits Gideon’s profile,” said Booth. He grabbed the file from Brennan, “And he’s employed as a paramedic. He’s in and out of Seattle Grace everyday. I met him, he transported bodies from the graveyard!”

“He was one of the paramedics who brought Meredith Grey’s body in, too,” said Brennan.

“That’s good enough for me,” said Hotch. “Round up the gang and let’s get out there.”

Reid grabbed his bag and moved to join the team when Gideon stopped him, “Stay here.”

“Damn it, Gideon. I was there when Ben was born, when he had heart surgery, for every birthday. You can’t force me out!” yelled Reid angrily.

“That’s exactly why I’m not letting you do anything. The boy might as well be your family,” said Gideon, “So you’re going to sit here with Dr. Addy, and if you think of anything, you can let us know.”

Reid sat back down in the hard plastic hospital chair and Zack grabbed his hand. Waiting was always the hardest part.


Day Sixteen

423 Ann Arbor Ave. was a quiet brick house, especially at four in the morning. Not for long. Six black suburban pulled up to the house and agents piled out of the cars. Hotch sent half the team around back, making sure all the exits were covered. He silently counted to three, and then let Booth knock down the front door. “This is the FBI!” yelled Booth. “We have a warrant.”

“Clear,” called Hotch and then Gideon.

Morgan started up the stairs with Gideon right behind him. They knocked down the door to the first bedroom. Henry Corbin was standing in the middle of the room, arms out stretched.

“Henry Corbin! Put your arms behind you back,” yelled Morgan as Hotch held his gun on the man. Corbin just ignored them and kept mumbling, “May the Lord who frees you from sin, save you and raise you up.” Morgan grabbed the man’s arms and shoved them into cuffs. Hotch escorted the agent and his captive downstairs.

Hotch was half way down the stairs when he heard both Gideon and Booth shouting that they had found the child, but didn’t want to move him. Morgan hurried the unsub out of the house and Hotch made way for the paramedic team. He turned and followed the paramedics back up the stairs. The child was in the third bedroom, and Booth was crouched beside him.

“He’s unconscious, but seems to be uninjured. There is some bruising around the neck,” stated Booth and then made way for the three paramedics. The paramedics quickly checked the boy over then strapped him to a gurney and loaded him into the ambulance, Booth on their heels the entire time.

By the time Hotch made it out of the house, the front yard was in chaos. Police cars with their lights flashing, FBI officers milling around, and the press had shown up. Gideon was sitting on front step. “Good job,” Hotch said, giving Gideon a hand up. They stood in front of the house together as Morgan and Prentiss spoke with the locals.

***

“He’s okay,” repeated Spencer.

“He’s fine,” said Zack, closing his cell phone, “Booth says they’re taking him to the hospital as a precaution, but he wasn’t injured and he’s been sedated the entire time, so he may not even remember anything.”

“Oh,” said Spencer, his body deflating, “He’s okay.”

“Why don’t we go back to the hotel? His mom is with him at the hospital and they are not going to allow visitors until tomorrow morning,” Zack held Spencer’s hand and led him to the parking lot.

***

Gideon sat across from Henry Corbin in the interrogation room as the man recited his crimes. Once they’d gotten him in the room, he’d burst like a dam, every detail flooding out of his mouth.

“My mother was first. The doctors killed her; I just took her away from them. I buried her in our backyard,” he said, rocking back and forth slowly in his chair. “She was my mother and those doctors; they tried to keep her from God when He asked for her to come to Him.”

Gideon did not interrupt; just let the man tell his story.

“I realized that God was asking for me to help Him, to save His people from those doctors who would keep them when it was time for His children to come home,” Corbin said. For a moment, the interrogation room was silent except for their breathing.
“I sent them home, all of them.”

On the other side of the mirror, Prentiss shivered. It was over. This time.