Chapter 50. Grasping at Straws

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“He can’t remember anything?!” Rossi felt his confidence in Carol Bescardi’s conviction ebb, recede and finally disappear in an evil puff of smoke.

“Nothing that would implicate her.” Morgan’s anger managed to make itself heard despite the spotty phone reception. “Rossi? You still there?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m just thinking.” Actually, his skull felt more like a cauldron of seething, bubbling disappointment and rage, than a container for rational thought. Rossi had already decided he would make good on all his threats against Carol’s career, even if she hadn’t technically violated the agreement to keep Reid’s talents secret. After what she’d done to Hotch, there was no question in the senior agent’s mind that she deserved the worst he could do.

But if Bescardi walked away a free woman, there was no justice in the world. So, since when is that anything new? Rossi tamped down his cynicism and tried to organize his thoughts. The mind we really need right now is Aaron’s. He’s the one who was a federal prosecutor. He’s the one who’d know all the tricks of the trade. And then inspiration hit…or at least a straw they might grasp at drifted into sight.

“Morgan? Still with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Get a blood sample from Hotch. Now!”

“What?”

“DO IT! NOW!”

Reid had been distracted by the sight of Ana walking toward them, café doggie bag in hand. He was snapped back to the urgency of the moment when Morgan slapped his phone into Reid’s palm and sprinted back into the hospital.

“Huh, wha…Morgan! What’s…” Then he realized the phone was active and still connecting. “Rossi? What’s going on? Morgan just took off like…”

“We need to get Hotch’s blood analyzed, Reid. Go after him. Make sure it gets done FAST.”

The call began to break up. Reid looked at approaching Ana, shrugged and held up his hands in apology for not waiting for her…or going to her…or being a gentleman and relieving her of the bag she carried…or of resuming their interrupted meal…. Well, there were just so many regrettable items on the list. But her smile followed him as he trailed after Morgan. And his heart did a little flip of joy, knowing no explanations were necessary . When the time came and they could sit down at their leisure again, all he had to do was hold her hand and invite her in.

She’d understand.

xxxxxxx

Having watched his patient swallow the pills that would ensure an extended sleep, the elderly doctor sat at his bedside, talking about nothing in particular, but in a soothing tone meant to calm and lull. He had raised the bed and was making sure the injured man ate a few mouthfuls of food. Mentally, he kicked himself for not bringing soup or pudding. The patient’s throat was still too dry to allow easy passage of solids. Nevertheless, a few bites of the tuna salad sandwich would do him a world of good. When eyelids began to grow heavy and the hand maneuvering the sandwich began to grow leaden, the doctor removed the meal, lowered the bed, and watched his patient fall asleep.

Didn’t take long. Poor boy’s all used up.

He pushed some stray hair off the sleeping man’s forehead, checked his IV, and turned to leave. He was more than a little surprised when the injured man’s friend, the one who had carried him in, nearly collided with him.

“Doc!”

“Shhhhhh.” The doctor placed a firm hand on Morgan’s shoulder, forcibly turning him from Hotch’s room and propelling him back down the hallway. “Your friend is asleep. You can see him tomorrow, but he needs rest right now.”

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