A Love Like No Other - Aaron Hotchner

Pieces of the Past

It was early, just after dawn, and the office was dead quiet. I was alone in the conference room, the faint murmur of the AC the only sound as i went through Frank McKenna's decoded notes again. They didn't hold any smoking gun, just fragmented messages, timestamps, and observations on our team. Nothing pointed to Kepler's exact location or even hinted at his next move. I felt like we were trying to fight a shadow that kept slipping through our fingers.

My eyes burned from exhaustion, but i kept reading, hoping there was something i had missed.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Reid walked in, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed one to me, his eyes studying my face with that quiet, analytical concern that he didn't know how to hide.

"Morning," he said softly. "You look like you haven't slept."

"Who has?" I replied, trying to make my tone light, but it came out weary. I was running on empty, and Reid knew it.

He took a seat across from me, his slender fingers wrapping around his mug as he watched me for a moment. "I think we need to take a different approach."

"To the case?" I asked, frowning.

"To you," he said, his voice gentle but unyielding.

"I'm fine, Reid," i insisted, more sharply than i intended. I took a sip of coffee, the bitterness jolting me a little more awake. "We don't have time to worry about me. We're losing Kepler."

He didn't argue, which surprised me. Instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a thick, old leather journal, sliding it across the table. I recognized it immediately - it was my stepfather's.

"Where did you get this?" I demanded, my voice rising as i snatched it up. I hadn't seen it in years, not since before he went to prison. The journal held every twisted fantasy, every grotesque thought that he hadn't been able to act on - at least not in that house. He used to call it "his confessions." The police had taken it as evidence when they arrested him. It shouldn't be here.

"Emma, calm down," Reid said quietly, his voice soothing in a way that almost broke me. "I found it in the police records from his case, buried deep in the archives. It was sent back to the state after the trial concluded."

"Why would you bring this here?" I whispered, my fingers gripping the edges of the journal so tightly that my knuckles turned white. "Why would you think i need to see this?"

"Because Kepler's patterns match your stepfather's confessions," Reid said softly, but firmly. "I think he was inspired by them - maybe even tried to replicate his style of control. But there's something more. I went through it, and i found names. Addresses."

My blood turned to ice. "Whose?"

"Girls from your neighborhood," he continued, his voice so gentle that it almost hurt to hear. "Girls who were never officially connected to him, whose disappearances were ruled as runaways or accidents. But based on his notes..." Reid's eyes met mine, unwavering. "I think they were more than that."

I felt sick. It was like every nightmare i had ever buried was clawing its way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged. My stepfather's crimes had gone so much deeper than i had ever known. He had hurt people - destroyed them, and those crimes had been hidden under layers of misdirection and complacency from the system. And now, somehow, Kepler was feeding off of it.

"I-I can't read this," i stammered, shoving the journal away from me, as if touching it for a second longer would make me lose my sanity. "This is- he's-"

"You don't have to," Reid said quickly. "You've already lived through enough of his terror. But i thought you should know that these girls - these victims - deserve to have the truth acknowledged. And if we can understand why Kepler was so interested in your stepfather's writings, we might be able to predict his next move."