CHAPTER 9:
SAVE THE CHILDREN
(5x16: mosley lane)

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        BESS WAS NO MOTHER MATERIAL. She never was, and never would be. Motherhood got swiped off the table the moment she joined the CIA—or maybe even before that, when she grew up without one herself. All she had was her father's love to make do with, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, he wasn't capable of loving her like a mother would. Not the way her own mother did, up until they took her away.

        From age five, Bess was forced to live in the world of men. There was no skirt to hide behind—not in her last year of kindergarten, where kids could be even meaner than adults; not in school, where she was a freak because of her incredible memory; and not when Tony Sinclair introduced her to Don Sullivan and she joined the CIA. She had to learn, through the bruises on her own skin, just how dangerous the world was, because there was no loving mother out there to warn her. No woman to cry for when the nightmares came—not only at night, but in daylight as well. She either learned to bend the world to her will, or she let it bend her. And in the end, it all came down to one choice. Adjust to survive.

        But no matter how thick a skin she had grown over the years, no matter how much brutality she had witnessed, nothing could prepare her for the pain of a mother losing her child. It broke her in ways she couldn't have imagined—despite not being a mother herself. And what they did to them... she would never forget, not even if her mind didn't work the way it did. It tore open wounds she hadn't even known were there. And when in the end he came to her aid out of mere kindness, she let herself believe that there were still good people in the world.

        But what happened that started this avalanche, desperate to bury her alive? Let's start from the beginning...

        The call came half an hour before noon from the Ashburn Police Department, informing JJ that 8-year-old Aimee Lynch had been abducted from her mother's side at the Winter Festival around ten that morning. As was often the case with child abductions, the BAU team dove headfirst into the investigation, working alongside the local police to bring the little girl back to her parents as soon as possible. While Bess, Rossi, and Hotch headed to the clearing where the festival had taken place, Morgan and Reid visited the family's home, and the Emily-JJ-Garcia trio began combing through similar cases from the past year.

        By evening, every TV channel was airing the news of Aimee Lynch's abduction, but unfortunately, there wasn't much to go on. Regardless of the hundreds of people being at the festival during the time of the kidnapping, no one saw anything—and the little to no security didn't help their case either. Nevertheless, a hotline was set up, and they eagerly kept waiting for that one phone call that would change everything.

        As happened every time a child went missing in the area, a woman named Sarah Hillridge reached out to JJ, desperately searching for her own son, Charlie, whom she had lost eight years ago. She had immersed herself in learning everything there was to know about child abduction—along with drinking, which, to be honest, was never a good combination. She had the extreme theory that whoever took Aimee had taken her son too; since both children were the same age, and as unbelievable as it sounded, they had been kidnapped the very same way—both women had been distracted by a mother looking for her lost child.

        If her words were to be believed, they were dealing with a couple who had been abducting children for nearly a decade. But honestly, no one knew if it had been only one decade, or even longer. On the other hand, the circumstances of the kidnapping suggested an intent to keep Aimee, which meant her chances of survival had just increased. They just had to keep looking.

        The following day, Bess sat between Hotch and Rossi at the round table in the conference room, listening to Morgan and Reid who had just returned from the Lynchs' house with a sinking feeling that they hadn't done enough for the family, and JJ and Emily could only agree with them. "Look, we all think that Aimee could be alive. No one's given up on her. That's why there are hundreds of volunteers and officers combing every inch of the county," Hotch declared in a bit harder tone than necessary—he was just as on edge as the two women.

        "But they're dragging the rivers and digging up the woods," Emily opposed with a shake of her head. "That's not gonna help us if Aimee is still with the UnSub. If she's still alive out there."

        "What about Charlie? Is he still alive?" Morgan raised an eyebrow.

        JJ nodded. "Sarah believes it."

        "Eight years she's been saying the same thing, JJ," he noted, causing the woman to nod but remain silent as she crossed her arms over her chest, and her way of protecting herself against the man's criticism didn't escape Bess' notice. "Have you thought about why you suddenly believe her?" Morgan went further, drawing Bess' attention to himself now, along with everyone else's. "Do you think it might be because you're a mother?" he pressed, putting the room in uncomfortable silence.

        JJ barely believed Morgan had asked her that. For a second, she was speechless. "It's... It's because another woman just walked in here with the same exact ruse used eight years ago. I can't deny that. Can you?" She let out an embarrassed laugh, and they all turned back to Morgan to see his reaction.

        "All I'm saying is if we go from a single abduction to multiple abductions over ten years, that changes everything. We all have to be convinced that's what it is, based on an unbiased profile."

        "Unbiased profile my ass," Bess burst out, leaning forward in her seat to look at Morgan. "Are you even listening to yourself, Morgan? How could you say that to her? But maybe I heard it wrong, and that wasn't pure sexism coming from a, oh look at that, a black man," she scoffed, and she would have climbed over the table to slap him in the face if not for Rossi's hand on her thigh, keeping her in her seat.

        Morgan opened his mouth to fight back, but seeing Hotch's slight headshake, he slumped back in his chair and stayed quiet. Emily gave JJ a worried glance, then continued, "Okay, so, distraction of a lost child. 8-year-old victims taken from public places with little to no security. That's not just the same ruse, that's a signature. And I'm not a mother." She held up her hands in defense, glancing at Morgan.

        "Charlie would be sixteen now," Hotch muttered, weighing their options. He looked back at JJ and Emily. "We all know that preferential offenders typically dispose of their victims before they reach puberty."

        "Maybe he serves another purpose," JJ persisted.

        "Aimee's mom said the UnSub was slight. It wouldn't be easy to keep a teenager under her thumb," Rossi commented, his eyebrows knitted in thought, and he was clearly unaware that his hand was still resting on Bess' thigh until she removed it, saying, "Except that she's had him since he was eight years old. By now, he'd be completely submissive to her."

        Reid added, "Keeping him could explain why Charlie's body was never found."

        Since no one seemed eager to add anything else to the topic, Bess took it as her cue that the discussion was settled. She turned to look at Garcia. "Garcia, go back ten years, nationwide. Start with abductions in target-rich environments, and rule out any with bodily recovery. Dead or alive."

        "I'm gonna let Sarah know," JJ announced, sending a thankful smile to the redhead before hurrying out of the conference room.

        "Okay. We need to check out Aimee's abduction site with new eyes." Bess stood up from her seat, then turned to look at Hotch. "Care to join me, Hotchner?"

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        WHILE THEY WENT TO CHECK out the crime scene for the second time, Garcia dug into searching for unsolved child abduction cases similar to Aimee's, working alongside Reid. Since around 2000, she found over 200 missing children reports in the known databases, 12 of which had occurred in Virginia. Besides Charlie, who had been taken from Leesburg, there was Karla Hartaway, abducted in 1999 at age 8 from Garrison; Stephen Shepherd, missing in 2003, also at age 8, from Arlington; Danny Kenman, abducted June 12 last year from a mall; Tracey Cain, 9, who vanished from a park with both parents present; Jake Wusman, abducted September 29; and six others, plus Aimee.

        They couldn't have known, but JJ discovered an entire wall dedicated to these abductees in Sarah Hillridge's bedroom. The woman had collected every piece of information possible on the cases, marking with white flowers which children were dead, and which still had a chance to be found alive. She did as good a job as Garcia used to do, and JJ wanted to accept her help—but only if the woman promised to quit drinking.

        Bess crossed the empty carnival grounds at Hotch's side, heading toward the paddock where Aimee had been about to ride one of the ponies before the UnSub took her. The place had been shut down until the investigation was over; the last thing they wanted was another abductee on their hands. Hotch watched as Bess reached into the pocket of her trench coat and placed a cigarette between her red lips, he declined her offer to light one himself. "It was nice of you to stand up for JJ," he noted quietly, giving her a side glance while shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

        Bess blew out the smoke through her mouth. "Like you should have?" She raised an eyebrow, watching as a guilty look crossed his face for a second before he looked away. "Shouldn't we bring Barbara back here?" She wondered when they finally arrived at the paddock.

        "No, she's given us all she can. Let's go through it," Hotch muttered, squinting in the sharp light as he turned around to gauge the place, then faced Bess once again.

        She took another long drag from her cigarette and stepped onto the spot where Aimee's mother had approximately stood. "Okay. She was standing about here, right?"

        The man nodded briefly. "It's crowded. Families all around. There's loud music coming from the games."

        "The husband asks Barbara if she's hungry. She nods, so they go with the son to get something to eat," Bess continued replaying the situation. "Aimee doesn't like the beanie she's wearing, so she leans down to ask what's wrong with it."

        "The UnSubs are watching, waiting for the best target. They see Aimee and Barbara, and they make their move. The woman starts shouting, drawing Barbara's attention."

        "She looks away from her daughter, and by the time she turns around, Aimee's gone."

        "The mother who just cried wolf moves off. She can hear Barbara crying out for Aimee, but the girl can't answer because the UnSub has her face buried in his chest. To passers-by, it'd look like any parent carrying a crying child," Hotch explained. "30 seconds later, she's concealed in a vehicle and they're gone."

        Bess took another long drag from her cigarette as she nodded. "The same one rolls up on our mother. She gets in, and it's done." She shook her head with a frown. "But who's driving it?"

        "It took three UnSubs to pull this off," Hotch concluded quietly. "If the same people took Charlie, we're looking for a group."

        "Well, if they've taken two or more children over an 8-year period, somebody must have noticed something," Bess pointed out, flashing her eyebrows at Hotch.

        "How do they keep the victims hidden? Once we figure that out, we'll find them."

        "The UnSubs?"

        He nodded. "And the children."

        Bess extinguished her cigarette by stepping on the burning butt with her high heels, then started walking back to their SUV parked by the entrance alongside Hotch. "Thanks, by the way," she added, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Saying it was nice of me to stand up for Jareau. I might actually believe next time you'll do the same," she teased, smirking as she pulled a pack of gum from her pocket. "Want one?"

        He did, wondering what someone kissing her would taste on her tongue—tobacco or mint? It was surely just an innocent question.

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        BY THE TIME BESS AND Hotch arrived back at the BAU, JJ was back from Sarah Hillridge's house, and the woman also drove back with her. The whiteboard in the conference room was now covered with twelve photos and details of the missing children they had identified so far, and Bess couldn't pretend it didn't tear at her heart. "Are those children all missing?" she whispered, and JJ nodded back at her in silence.

        "Sinclair, Hotch, this is Sarah Hillridge," she introduced the unfamiliar brunette woman, and Bess moved to shake hands with her.

        "Oh, we met when Charlie was taken. I mean, you know, you saw a lot of us," Sarah chuckled when she shook hands with Hotch. "I'm sure we all look the same."

        He said, "Thank you for coming in. Have a seat."

        JJ waited until they all had sat down around the conference table, then began, "All right, these represent kids taken from public places." She pointed at the marker arrows pinned onto the map displayed on the whiteboard. "Locations are never hit more than once, but there is similarity in each. Different malls, toy stores, carnivals, theme parks, parades."

        "Places where families should feel safe," Emily muttered, shaking her head.

        "And where there isn't much security." Hotch frowned at the map.

        Bess asked, "That's twelve children over ten years?" JJ nodded in response, so she turned to Emily next. "We should interview all the families."

        "I know a few of them," Sarah chimed in enthusiastically. "We had a support group. I mean, most of them have moved on," she admitted, shoulders dropping slightly.

        "But you're here," Emily opposed, and the woman nodded.

        "I saw Charlie three years ago."

        A deafening silence followed her words, until JJ noted, "You didn't tell me that."

        "Well, my husband didn't believe me. Why would you?" Sarah questioned quietly, and Bess shared a look with Hotch.

        He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell us what happened."

        "At first, I saw him all the time. I thought I did. And from what I understand, that-that's normal." The woman nodded, as if reassuring herself that she hadn't gone crazy. "But you can't survive that way. So, Jake and I promised that we would move on. But a few years later, I saw him. I mean, it was different. I mean, in my mind, he had never aged, but this was a teenage Charlie crossing the street," she recalled with shining eyes, full of hope. "And as quick as he was there, he was gone again. But I know I saw him. Jake didn't believe me. That was the day he left me," Sarah muttered, averting her eyes in embarrassment.

        "What did you do when you saw Charlie?" Bess asked gently.

        "I called for him."

        Emily furrowed her brows. "How did you know it was him?"

        "Well, I didn't. Not for sure. So, I called for him again, and he looked back," Sarah remembered.

        "And your husband didn't see him?" Hotch muttered.

        The woman shook her head. "It was crowded. He disappeared. I lost him all over again." Her lips curled into a pout as tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

        "We'll be asking those parents to sign up for all that pain again," JJ told her quietly. "If they've moved on—"

        "They'd take the chance if it meant their kids were alive," Sarah declared in a desperate voice, and JJ, Emily, Bess, and Hotch shared a look.

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        BESS STOOD ON THE UPPER walkway that separated Hotch and Rossi's offices from the bullpen, overseeing the interviews taking place down in the cubicles. Eleven pairs of parents had come in for questioning, all sharing the same story—a woman calling out for her lost child, only to vanish a few seconds later, just like their own children. Bess felt as if she was just a sheer observer of the snow globe these broken families were stuck inside, unable to comprehend or share their pain. But how could she really? She had no idea what it felt like for a mother to lose her child, the apple of her eye.

        "Are you alright?" Rossi's question pulled her out of the string of thoughts. She tore her gaze from Aimee's parents and looked at him instead, accepting the cup of coffee he had brought her.

        "Why wouldn't I be?"

        He shrugged, leaning onto the steel rails as he lifted his cup to his mouth. "This is your first child abduction case, right? It's bound to happen that it affects you." Rossi turned his head to look at Bess, and she held his gaze.

        "How do you know that it's my first? I could have worked similar cases before my time here," she opposed, but the senior agent just smiled at her words. She frowned. "What?"

        "You can mask it from your face, but not from your eyes, Sinclair."

        Bess licked her lips as she nodded. "So what? Are you gonna preach to me about being a woman now, like Morgan did with Jareau? Save it," she scoffed, disgusted from even the memory of the incident.

        "Why would I do that?" Rossi furrowed his brows in confusion, shaking his head. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a sexist, Sinclair. This case affects me the same way it affects everyone else. It doesn't matter who you are, or what you are. Child abduction cases are just as hard for everyone. Or any other cases involving kids. And that's totally normal. We're not machines, after all. We can feel."

        "I can't imagine what they are feeling, Rossi." Bess shook her head, and she couldn't tell whether that was a good or a bad thing.

        "And that's okay. It's not something you'd want to, believe me," he muttered, looking away, and she studied the side of his face.

        "Why do I feel there's a personal story behind those words?"

        Rossi merely flashed his eyebrows in response. "As you said, it's personal." He offered her a small smile, softening the edge of the word, and she accepted with a silent nod that he wouldn't tell her about it.

        After a while, Rossi returned to his office, and Bess descended the stairs, approaching Barbara Lynch, who sat alone at one of the desks. Saying that she looked horrible would have been an understatement. The dark circles under her eyes told Bess the woman hadn't slept since her daughter was taken—and frankly, she couldn't blame her. "This team is the best. You're in good hands," she reassured, trying to give the woman some hope, though she knew it would take a miracle to bring her little girl home.

        Barbara nodded. "I know." She dropped her gaze, and she kept nodding to herself until she looked back at Bess again. Her lips curled into a pout as she began crying. "I let go of her hand. It was only for a second, but she's always been the one that I'm worried about."

        Bess reached for her hand, squeezing it. "You can't blame yourself."

        "Frank does," Barbara wailed, and Bess felt her stomach shrink with this terrible feeling she couldn't put a finger on. "And he's right. I should have held on. Aimee's wandered off before, and... There's this feeling when they're out of your sight," she whispered, blinking away her tears. "It takes your breath away until you see them again. And I think that's why I can't breathe," she sobbed, her fingers digging into her chest.

        Bess didn't know what else to say. There were no words that could make this better. She gently stroked the woman's arm before rising from her seat and heading back to the conference room, where, one by one, the BAU agents began to gather. "Eleven families have confirmed the same woman, 40 to 50 years old, calling for children. In some cases, she even had a child with her," JJ summarized what they had learned from the parents.

        "She actually used the kids for the abductions?" Sarah Hillridge whispered in shock. "Were they her own or the ones kidnapped?"

        "We don't believe she's a mother." Emily shook her head. "Most predisposed female offenders are not."

        Reid chimed in, "But they are the most violent." He pursed his lips together when he noticed he shouldn't have said that with Sarah present, but it was already too late to take it back.

        "Y-You said that she's working with someone?"

        "It's likely a subservient male," Bess replied with a firm nod. "But the woman separates herself from her partners. She chooses the victim while they do the riskiest part. They grab the child and manage to get away."

        JJ lifted a sketch displaying Charlie. "This is what he looks like as a teenager." She handed the drawing over to Morgan, and he passed it on after taking a closer look at the boy, so soon Bess could check him out herself too—medium-length, wavy brown hair parted in the middle; well-defined eyebrows; large brown eyes; straight nose and full lips.

        "Um, um, he's tall and thin. His hair is, um, darker than it was. But-but that's him. That's-that's Charlie." Sarah smiled, then her face distorted in confusion. "Why would they take the risk of letting him out in the world?"

        "They've had him in their control for eight years. He's either got Stockholm or he's being threatened," Rossi explained plain and simple. "Get us another kid... and we won't kill you."

        The woman could only stare back at the senior agent in pure petrification, and JJ suggested that she take a break from all this. "All right," Morgan sighed, once Sarah was out of earshot. "So, living and working in northern Virginia. It's most likely in isolation. I mean, there's no way to explain a houseful of kids at the neighborhood block party."

        "Managing this many children isn't easy," Hotch noted quietly. "And there have to be incidents where things didn't go as planned. We should start with domestic calls and disturbances. Concentrate on families who were visited by social services."

        "I'll get Garcia." Reid picked up Charlie's sketch from the conference table among other case files and hurried out of the room.

        Hotch continued, "It's likely these UnSubs were questioned before. Once we narrow down Garcia's list, we should revisit them." He exchanged a look with Morgan and Emily, then his gaze fell on Bess. She didn't comment on the way he took charge out of the blue; instead, she kept her eyes on his face, lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile—one he couldn't seem to decipher.

        While they discussed the case further, Barbara got her hands on Charlie's sketch and immediately recognized the boy in it. She was sure that he had been there when the UnSubs took Aimee. Unfortunately, this invoked two kinds of reactions. For Sarah, this was a glimmer of hope, confirming that her son was still alive. But the reality was far darker for Barbara and her husband, Frank. To them, Charlie wasn't a victim. He was an accomplice.

        Poor Sarah couldn't find the words to defend her son against Barbara's outburst. Each harsh word that left the other woman's mouth seemed to confirm her worst fear. Maybe Charlie was beyond saving by now. Even JJ's attempt to reassure her—reminding her that he'd only been trying to survive—couldn't fully ease the weight of her guilt.

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        GARCIA HAD BEEN WORKING AS fast as she could, but it still took her hours to compile a list of possible suspects. "Okay, 107 families visited by social services in the last 10 years," she announced when she walked into the conference room with a laptop in her hands and joined the team around the round table.

        "That's too many to go door to door." Bess shook her head, grimacing. "We're gonna have to narrow that down."

        "We need to figure out why they're staying in northern Virginia," Hotch declared.

        Emily suggested, "Their work could be the key. They could have a child-care facility on the premises as a cover."

        "You know, it's most likely a single-income family. Someone has to be home to stay with the kids," Reid commented.

        Garcia nodded as she kept typing on her keyboard. "Okay, all this helps."

        "They've been questioned before, so we can expect a rehearsed response."

        "How many on that list are single-income?" Morgan arched an eyebrow in question.

        "Twenty-three."

        He shook his head, causing Rossi to ask, "What's the problem?"

        "We're gonna be knocking on the doors of 23 families and all of them have done something bad to a kid. We don't have a warrant, just our profile. If we get it wrong and leave that house, they'll destroy any evidence they have, including the children," Morgan shared his fear, which put the room in deep silence as they all weighed their chances of winning.

        Bess let out a troubled sigh. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the numbers weren't in their favor. "Jareau, get an item of Aimee's clothing." She rose from her seat, and the others quickly followed suit.

        "What for?" Garcia whispered in a high-pitched voice, and Bess let Morgan explain to the technical analyst woman, "It's for the dogs."

        They split into pairs, dividing the twenty-three addresses they needed to visit before sunset. Bess teamed up with Rossi, while Hotch went with JJ, and Emily with Morgan. With each house they checked, Bess felt her unease grow. She knew, without a doubt, that behind those walls lurked terrible secrets, the kind that could land their owners in handcuffs and lock them away for life. But without solid proof, there was nothing they could do besides walking away.

        It wasn't until Emily and Morgan reached 2115 Mosley Lane that they knew they had found the right place. The husband, Roger Roycewood, matched their profile to a tee, just like his property. It was isolated, not visible from the main road, and every door had extra locks. But the icing on the cake was the minivan parked in the driveway and a photo of a boy who looked a lot like Charlie, displayed on the mantel of the fireplace in the living room.

        It didn't take an expert to see that Mr Roycewood had figured out why they were there. He had likely already warned his wife, because when the FBI knocked on their door, she had taken the kids and smuggled them out of the house. Regardless, they were confident they had the right address. By the time Bess, Rossi, Hotch, and JJ arrived at Mosley Lane as well, they had a signed search warrant in hand, giving the K-9 unit clearance to sweep the property and the police the authority to tear the place apart.

        The small hairs on the back of Bess' neck rose as she descended the stairs leading into the basement after Rossi. The old wooden stairsteps creaked beneath her high heels, the stench of doom filled her nostrils. "Security camera on the front door," the senior agent noted, pointing at the small screen on the wall, showing Mr Roycewood standing on the porch with a police officer.

        But that wasn't what grabbed Bess' attention. She stepped in front of the bookshelf facing the stairs, cluttered with all kinds of tools and equipment. Her fingers gently brushed along the side where it met the wall. "What?" Rossi asked, frowning as he approached.

        "It's a hinge." With one hand on the bookshelf, she drew her gun with the other, and he did the same. With a sharp pull, the bookshelf swung open, revealing a hidden corridor stretched between several rooms. "Jesus," Bess whispered, lowering her weapon as she took in the unexpected sight. There were enough rooms for at least eight children down there.

        "Let's get the dogs down here," Rossi muttered, pushing his gun back into his holster.

        Pretty soon the basement was crowded with policemen, and as was expected, the trained dogs immediately caught Aimee's scent, coming down the stairs. Loudly barking, they led the way into one of the rooms, but there was no Aimee Lynch inside. They were all gone.

        In another room, Bess discovered a large collection of photos, all displaying different kinds. There were at least thirty of them. "Is that Aimee Lynch?" Rossi muttered, pointing at the little brunette girl in what seemed to be the most recently taken photo.

        Bess nodded. "They dyed her hair."

        She flipped through the images, one by one, and the senior agent shook his head with a frown when they reached the end. "There's none of Charlie."

        "He probably took these pictures."

        "For what?"

        Bess could have laughed at the boy's brilliance. She shook her head in disbelief. "Proof."

        They headed back upstairs and out into the front yard, where Garcia was waiting to share her findings on the Roycewoods. On the surface, there was nothing unusual about the couple. The husband had worked his entire life as an electrician, while the wife stayed at home. Their records were spotless: clean employment history, taxes paid on time, everything appeared legitimate. But then Garcia dug deeper into the wife.

        It turned out that Anita Weld Roycewood's family had owned a funeral home in Leesburg, just a ten-minute drive from their house. Unfortunately, this discovery didn't make their job easier since funeral homes had access to plenty of ways to dispose of bodies: hearses, coffins, vans—too many to search. But then came the worst part. Garcia had found that the funeral home had a crematorium.

        The moment the words left Reid's mouth, Bess felt her stomach lurch. The image of burning children's bodies and their remains reduced to dust was just too much to bear. "I-I'm gonna be sick," she muttered, clamping a hand over her mouth as she turned away. She barely reached the flower garden, nearly stumbling between the roses. Little did she know that was where Mr Roycewood had spilled the ashes of the cremated children to fertilize his flowers, making them bloom so beautifully.

        She tried to hold her hair back, but it kept slipping into her face—until it didn't. Bess could only see the shoes, but she recognized them as Rossi's. One hand gently gathered her hair into his fist while his other softly stroked her back, unfazed by the sounds escaping her. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes from the minutes of vomiting, Bess slowly straightened up, convinced there was nothing left to come out. She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze eventually meeting his as he kept her steady with an arm around her waist.

        "Let's get you a glass of water," Rossi murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear, and Bess let out a small sigh as she nodded, relying upon him to escort her back into the house.

        While she tried to pull herself together on a kitchen chair, Morgan and Emily found the children in the crematorium—along with the dead Mrs Roycewood, who Charlie shot to death when she tried to burn Aimee alive in the cremation furnace. Mr Roycewood didn't get a better ending either, he hung himself in the upstairs bathroom, so that he wouldn't end up in prison.

        Out of the twelve missing children, three were able to go home with their parents. Unfortunately, the other nine weren't so fortunate. At least they all had some form of closure, even if it wasn't the one they had hoped for. Sarah and her husband got their son back, who had survived the past eight years by holding on to the hope of one day returning home. And it became possible because his mother had never given up on him. Not even after all these years...

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        BESS COULDN'T WAIT TO FINALLY go home and forget these past two days had ever happened. But unfortunately, she wasn't capable of doing so. The emptiness of the penthouse weighed on her, growing an unease in her stomach which slowly spread through her body. Even after a long shower—scrubbing her hair in the hope of washing away every trace of Mosley Lane—having dinner, and curling up on the couch with her cat, the feeling still wouldn't pass.

        Eventually, she decided to go to bed early, but then the knock on her front door stopped her. Not expecting any visitors, Bess answered the door with her gun in hand, though she never had to use it. "Rossi, what are you doing here?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise, staring at the senior agent standing on her doorstep.

        "I wanted to check on you. And I thought, since I'm already here, we could watch a movie or two." He held up the DVDs in his hand as an explanation.

        Bess didn't know what to say. She shook her head with knitted eyebrows. "Why?"

        "Because that's what friends are for."

        "Friends?"

        He suppressed a smirk. "Well, since dating is off the table, I'm taking what I can get. So?"

        Bess was so stunned by Rossi's kindness that she almost didn't notice the way her body relaxed just from the relief of not being alone anymore. "I'll make popcorn." She stepped aside to let him in, then locked the door and went to make a large bowl of the airy snack.

        Rossi took off his long black tweed coat and hung it up beside Bess', then walked into the living room. He ran his palm over the large white cat curled up in a ball on the couch, then turned on the TV and slipped the first part of The Godfather into the DVD player beneath it. By the time the movie was ready to roll, Bess had also joined Rossi on the couch, handing over the large bowl that he had placed in his lap while lifting an arm to invite her closer.

        Bess had no idea what made her do it, but before she could stop herself, she laid her head on the man's chest and folded an arm over his stomach. "Are you comfortable, Gattina?" Rossi scoffed, amused by her sudden intimacy.

        "Oh, shut up," she groaned, pushing her head into the crook of his neck as she squirmed beside him.

        Rossi waited until Bess stopped moving, then picked up the remote control. "You ready, Gattina?"

        "Don't call me that."

        "Too late for that." The man smirked, then began laughing when she hit him on the chest. Pressing play, Rossi grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl and leaned back comfortably against the cushions, his hand continuing to stroke Bess' side through the oversized pullover she wore.

        Barely ten minutes into the movie, she spoke up, "Will you ever tell me what that personal story is?"

        "Did you even listen to the first ten minutes?" The senior agent grimaced, pausing the movie before glancing down at the redhead. She turned her head to look up at him, her shiny eyes prompting a resigned sigh. "You won't leave it alone, will you?"

        "I will if you still decide not to tell me now," Bess declared quietly, which caused Rossi to look away with a shake of his head.

        There was a long pause leading up to his answer. "I lost a son." The corner of his lips twitched as a hard swallow moved down his throat; he averted his eyes.

        Bess felt her mouth go dry. "How old was he?"

        "Not even an hour."

        "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling his pain rip at her own chest too.

        Rossi offered a small smile as he nodded. "Have you ever considered having kids, Bess?" he asked finally, meeting her gaze.

        She immediately shook her head. "I wouldn't be a good mother," she mumbled, unaware of the rose hue creeping onto her cheeks. "I... I wouldn't know what to do."

        "You don't know that," he said gently. "Wouldn't it be nice to have something to go home to every night? A family?"

        "Thanks. You just described what a shitty life I have now," Bess let out a bitter laugh, but again, Rossi shook his head.

        He cupped her cheek to force her to look at him. "I mean it. It's not too late for you, Bess. Don't end up like me. Don't let work take over your life."

        The knot in her throat was killing her. "You don't understand. I can't be with anyone. I just can't," she whimpered, her voice high-pitched and unfamiliar, as though it wasn't even hers anymore. "If it's someone outside of work, I never see them. If it's someone from work... they die. It's a lose-lose situation either way." She shook her head, rapidly blinking away the tears that burned her eyes. "I just don't want to be alone," she cried, the words spilling out before she even knew where they came from, but they suffocated her nonetheless.

        "Okay, come here," Rossi murmured, placing the bowl of popcorn beside himself on the couch, so he could pull Bess into his embrace. "You are not alone. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." His fingers combed through her vivid red hair, he smelt the sweet coconut scent of her shampoo as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

        He kept hushing her until her breathing steadied; she felt a rush of embarrassment when she realized how close she had let him get. "I-I'm sorry." Bess wanted to pull away, but Rossi didn't let her slip out of his arms. He reached for her face, gently wiping away the last trace of her tears before tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's really boss-like to be wailing on your subordinate."

        "What can I say? I've seen both the beautiful and the ugly," Rossi noted, a playful smile tugging at his lips before he turned serious. "And yes, I do care, okay? I care a lot about you. I can't deny that. But I want to abide by your choice and just be your friend if you let me. I can live with that." He nodded, as if reassuring himself that he could do it.

        A small smile formed on Bess's lips as she surveyed the senior agent's face. She pushed herself up to press a feather-light kiss on his cheek, then settled back onto his chest, and Rossi took it as his cue to restart the movie from the beginning.

author's note

I couldn't stop myself hehe🤭 Another update! As horrible as this episode was, I just love how this chapter turned out! (I swear, I'm gonna punch Morgan for being a dick...) Aaron is slowly getting there, but I really wanted to highlight the Bess-Rossi relationship here. The next chapter, though, will focus all on Aaron! 💕

reminder

As a fellow writer, I pour an incredible amount of time and effort into each chapter, so please don't forget to vote and comment while you read! Your support means the world to me and gives me so much inspiration! Don't be just another ghost reader, please! <33