The Intelligence Control and Analysis Program

Chapter 3

Hotch considered himself to be a patient man. Did he lose his temper? Of course. But for the most part, he was able to keep himself supernaturally calm in the face of just about anything. He was known for his nerves of steel, and he was used to people relying on those nerves.

Genius did not rely on nerves. He worked on them. Every single one of them, right down to the tiniest, frailest, microscopic neurological fiber.

"Given the circumstances, you're lucky he hasn't killed more."

Genius wasn't even supposed to be at the profile briefing.

"It sounds like you're saying the victims deserved this."

Genius was supposed to be getting himself a coffee.

"Well, I'm certainly not saying they didn't."

But Genius just couldn't help himself.

"Genius, a word."

Hotch beckoned him with a finger and walked to the nearest empty room, somehow managing to keep his temper under control. He didn't yet know what he was going to say, but he could only ask the locals to excuse so many infractions based on the 'genius' excuse.

Hotch took a few steps into the room and turned around to face Genius, barely managing to hold his tongue until the door swung shut with a click. "What was that?"

"It was the truth," Genius shot back. "They could have done something to help. They knew Owen, knew his father. They have no excuse."

"Excuse for what?" Hotch didn't bother to suppress the disbelief in his voice.

"They left him in a toxic environment, ignored his clear downward spiral, and expected no repercussions. It's asinine, and you're defending them."

"I'm not defending them. I'm trying to catch a killer." Hotch narrowed his eyes slightly, keeping his tone firm but trying to keep out any of the sheer lividity he felt. "We need them to cooperate with us if we want to keep anybody else from getting hurt, including Owen."

"So, what? You kiss up to them so you can throw their victim in jail? This is their fault." Genius gestured wildly to the door behind him. "They could have seen the signs. They could have done something."

"Nobody sees the signs, Genius, and making it ab—"

"Nobody sees the signs because nobody looks, Agent Hotchner!" Genius yelled, raising his voice out of anger for the first time since they met, and Hotch was temporarily silenced by the outburst. "Nobody cares until the right person gets hurt, and when they look, what they see is never their fault. People like you don't care about people like me, and as long as that's how the world is run, there will always be serial killers. There will always be hundreds of people who aren't mistreated enough to be real victims; who aren't crucial enough to society to be real victims, who aren't innocent enough to be real victims. You will ignore and suppress them, and then when they create victims of their own, victims you deem worthy of justice, you will blame them for everything, because the alternative is to accept the consequences of treating another human being like garbage, and you just can't have that."

Hotch waited a few seconds and then raised a brow. "Are you finished?"

Genius ground his teeth together, scratching furiously at the inside of his right arm.

"Good." Hotch put his hands on his hips, using a no-nonsense tone that was surprisingly calm given his skyrocketing blood pressure. "We do not have time to argue with the locals about what they could or should have done to prevent this. Regardless of how Owen wound up how he is now, he has killed seven people and abducted an eighth. It is our job to find him and stop him from hurting anybody else." He nodded to the closed door behind Genius. "Now I want you to go back to the house and figure out what Owen's end game is."