Introduction: I have previously written fan fiction only for another show, The Lost World. But I watch, Criminal Minds and it attracted me as a possible outlet for fics. The first chapter is long because I just learned on Jan. 2, 2015, how to add conventional chapters. My earlier fics had internal chapter headings in some cases, but posted as one long story.
Why a Bigfoot mystery? I was watching an amusing TV show that purports to pursue this legendary beast when it occurred to me that Bigfoot might become a suspect in murders. I have been a student of Bigfoot/Sasquatch and other cryptozoological creatures for years, and they intrigue me. I wrote a fic in, The Lost World stories about the explorers encountering the legendary Nandi Bear in British colonial Kenya, if that might interest anyone here. It's a Mature-Rated fic, as are almost all of mine. The title for that tale is, Mem'Sahib Bunduki and the Nandi Bear.
So much for background... Ashley Seaver is back, as I needed an unmarried female agent. And one of the local sheriff's deputies in this fic catches her eye. Will he also catch her heart? BTW, OC Peter Blacklaws is a descendant of Geoffrey Blacklaws, an original character in several of my, The Lost World safari-based fics. Peter has immigrated to the USA and is now a senior deputy and a former winemaker. He is a hunter of both men and beasts. He has hunted women a lot along the way, too, and the blonde agent attracts him. Will she share a bed and her emotions with him? Will they determine who has committed The Bigfoot Killings, or will they die trying? Read on…
Be advised that this is a Mature story, containing sexual activity, violence, female bondage, and perhaps some adult language. It is no more explicit than many bestselling mystery novels, but it is not a child's tale, either. Read accordingly. All characters not from the show are my own creations or are public figures used fictionally or involved in incidents that are a matter of open record. Thanks are expressed to the rights holders for being able to publish fan fiction about this show. Obviously, the show and the core characters are their creations. Original characters are, of course, my own. No resemblance is intended to actual persons other than references to public or historic figures or businesses who are used fictitiously, as are the core cast characters. There is no Meriwether county in Washington. There is a Lewis county, but I wanted a fictional county for this story that would honor the memory of Capt. Meriwether Lewis.
Special thanks to Sweda for help in learning to post chapters. Kate Callahan appears in later chapters at the request of reader Julia BC. I hope that Kate's fans enjoy her inclusion.
Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings
By
Gemini Explorer
"He who does not punish evil commands it to be done." Leonardo da Vinci
CHAPTER ONE
Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit Chief, Quantico, VA, looked around the room. He sipped his coffee, grateful for the superb Columbian Supremo blend that fellow agent David Rossi had brought and brewed for them to show how much better coffee could be than what they usually made in their office.
Hotchner finished reviewing his notes and closed his folder. He looked around and missed two of his agents. "What became of Reid and Seaver?" he asked.
SSA Derek Morgan jerked a thumb toward an exit that led down the hall. "They went to the cafeteria. Reid said that the coffee was so good that he wanted a Danish to go with it, and Ashley joined him. They like that stuff, Dave. You oughta bring it more often. We deserve to become spoiled."
"We need to begin shortly," said Hotchner, mildly miffed at the absence of two of their number who should have realized that he was almost ready to open the briefing session. He was mollified as the truants entered the room, talking happily.
"Hey, we brought rolls and donuts for everyone," said SSA Spencer Reid as he and SA Ashley Seaver set down large white boxes on a side table.
Hotchner rolled his eyes, but said nothing as everyone moved to seize a share of this unexpected largesse. He knew the value of high morale, especially in view of the morbid nature of their assignments, and let it slide that he had to hold off a little longer on opening the session. His tolerance was further extended when SSA Jennifer Jareau brought him one of the Danish rolls, a particularly succulent looking one with yellow icing and pecans and raisins on top. Rossi strolled over with the coffee pot, and Hotchner sighed and resigned himself to a few more minutes of small talk and eating.
Penelope Garcia breezed in from her computer room, files and a flash drive in hand. It was a Monday and she had not been in the room earlier and was surprised to see Special Agent Seaver, who normally worked human trafficking cases for the Bureau although she had been with the BAU a couple of years before.
"Ashley!" she exclaimed as she set down her supplies and made a beeline for the refreshments. "What are you doing here? Hear that Dave brought some really good coffee? Derek called me about it and I could hardly wait to get my stuff together and get in here to try it."
Hotchner looked up from his pastry and said, "We have a vacancy due to Alex's resignation and I asked Agent Seaver to fill in until a replacement can be found. That should take only a few weeks. Assistant Director Diefenbaker and I have several candidates from other divisions in mind, but we're still mulling over choices and looking at applicants who've been waiting to get into this unit. I want us to be at full strength until we fill that vacancy, so I called Seaver this weekend, and arranged for her to join us for a time."
"And that's about the size of it," said Morgan, smirking a little. "At least, that's how Joe Friday summed things up on, Dragnet." Everyone groaned and resumed conversations for some 15 minutes, until Hotchner decided to call the group of profilers to order.
Finally, he rose and said, "Ladies and gentlemen – and you, too, Agent Morgan- I'm sorry to put a damper on your usual Monday morning enthusiasm. But we have a new case that I think needs to take priority over those that we've been working. It has some unusual elements and the agency that requested our assistance says they need to avoid public panic due to one particular aspect of the case. That aspect is, and I'm dead serious, that a primary suspect in this case is, uh, Bigfoot. Or, if you prefer, Sasquatch."
He held up a hand to quiet the barrage of disbelieving comments and lifted eyebrows.
"This case comes to us from the Sheriff of Elk Pass, Washington. That's in Meriwether County. Yes, that's named for Meriwether Lewis, as in the Lewis & Clark Expedition.
"The sheriff is named Grant Ford and it is significant that he was once with Los Angeles PD, where he worked for several years with Asst. Director Diefenbaker, to whom I now report on BAU cases. These men were also in college together, and Mr. Diefenbaker has asked us to look at this case. I think everyone here understands that if he "wishes" for us to take a case, we take it. This is like military generals "wishing" for things. It's basically an order. So, no discussion, please. We will take this case and we will solve it, whoever the perpetrator is. My feeling is that it is not going to be a large ape that has been killing these unfortunate Washington citizens.
"Now, if you look at the display onscreen, you can see Sheriff Ford, in his official photo. Nice looking man, tall, dark-haired going gray at the temples, intelligent, and Diefenbaker assures me that he is both well trained and thorough. The sheriff has attended our National Academy for police officers not members of the Bureau. He has an excellent record, and seems popular. He's won election for four terms now and his department has a good record for solving crimes. He is not, I'm told, credulous or naïve. If he says that Bigfoot is a factor, we need not to laugh and to keep an open mind. However, before some of you sneer too much, it is not the sheriff who claims that people are being murdered by an errant Sasquatch. In fact, he agrees with the M.E. that the victims were probably slain by fellow humans. But because certain 'sign' has been found near the victims' bodies that suggests that a large primate killed them, the press and some of the more gullible members of the public have started speculation that it's that celebrated, elusive, giant ape-man that has committed these crimes."
Rossi interrupted. "Aaron, before we progress, can we see the victims and hear what the examiner really thinks? I suspect that that may cut through a lot of innuendo and speculation."
"Coming right up," agreed Hotchner. "Garcia, may we see the next picture: the photos of the victims?"
"Of all the things I do here, I think showing these poor people who died to slake the lusts of some madman is the hardest," said Garcia. "However, here they are. " And she clicked a remote control and photos of eight persons, three male, appeared on the monitor.
"Look at it this way" said Reid. "Seeing our presentations here is where justice begins for these victims. And sometimes, we even save living ones." He looked sympathetically at their computer marvel.
"What had you rather do: run the computers or go out with us and look at these dead people in person?" asked Hotchner. "I can assure you, they smell better onscreen than in person." Garcia's lack of fortitude occasionally got to him and he had had a fight that morning with his girlfriend and wasn't happy about Asst. Director Diefenbaker using his influence to send the team after a suspect who was seriously being mistaken by some people for a mythical animal. Hotchner knew that if the Asst. Director wasn't an old chum of the local sheriff, they wouldn't have had to drop other urgent cases and proceed on this one.
"Hotch…" began Jennifer Jareau.
"All right: I'm a little short tempered this morning. Personal issues. I'll get over them. Go ahead, Garcia. But keep in mind that you have the least involvement with victims. Sometimes, the stress of dealing with the aftermath of their deaths can lead to burnout. I'm surprised that we all handle matters as well as we do."
Without further comment, the plump blonde computer whiz gestured to the screen and Hotchner resumed his narration. He decided to overlook Morgan's sliding a gold-wrapped Swiss chocolate down the table to Garcia, presumably to boost her mood.
"Now, of the eight victims whose likenesses you see here, three are men. They range in age from 19 to 42. They have no discernible connection, although all were from affluent families and had led most of their lives in the area. We have one man with longish brown hair, one with curly black hair, and one who was virtually bald. Ethnically, one was of Mediterranean ancestry, specifically Greek, and the other two were Anglo.
"Turning to the women, you see a more distinct pattern. All five were Anglos, with blonde or light brown hair and light eyes. Looking at the screen – enlarge the faces, please, Garcia- you see three with blue eyes, one with hazel, and one with green. All were quite attractive and were about the same height, five feet seven or within an inch or two either way. Now, either Bigfoot is fonder of Nordic- looking women than I'd realized or we have a human killer who is targeting women who fit this profile. And the ages are within a narrow range: from 18 to 26. The men have no connection with the women except that Ned Miller, the youngest man, disappeared after joining a search party to look for Linda Cameron, the 18-year-old girl. They were both students and were dating at Meriwether County Junior College."
"How often have the bodies been turning up?" asked a thoughtful Rossi. "Was Miller's body found with Cameron's or nearby?"
Hotchner said," Good point, Dave. Those two disappeared at nearly the same time, within three days, but his body was found just two days after he vanished. Hers wasn't discovered for another two and a half weeks, not nearby. The others were spaced over two to three weeks, but the men's bodies were more weathered and had been fed on by scavengers. Probably, they had been dumped for a longer time before being found. It is significant that none of the women's remains showed major decline, and were probably discovered within a day or two of being dumped. Animals had been at most of the bodies, but more so on the men. But each woman was gone for at least two weeks before being found, and when found, she was not ravaged as much as if she'd been out for that length of time."
Reid raised a hand. "Are you saying that the women seem to have been held somewhere for a couple or more weeks before being killed and then left out in the open?"
"Give the boy genius a prize," quipped Morgan, sliding one of the Lindt & Sprungli chocolates to Reid, who accepted it with surprise and pleasure.
Jareau raised a hand. "Were the women raped, or are there other signs of abuse? If raped, was there semen, presumably not that from a Sasquatch, although I don't suppose we really have any comparison samples in the case of the ape-man?"
Hotchner told her that she had a good question and that all of the women showed signs of sexual activity. "But no semen traces were recovered. The M.E. out there theorizes that they were raped or compelled to submit, but that prophylactic rubbers were used. Whoever had them was being careful. No fingerprints, either. He was of the opinion that the corpses were washed off and found traces of soap on one woman. Alcohol may also have been used, but he has only a suspicion, and the odor was long gone by the time he saw the bodies, of course. There were no defensive skin scrapings under the women's fingernails. They had clothing on them or partially torn off by some large assailant, but he was pretty sure that the bodies had been dressed after death, having been nude for some of their captivity. The M.E. has a grim sense of humor. He noted in his report that dressing female victims is an unlikely act for Bigfoot, nor are those animals likely to employ latex condoms. He therefore feels that the murders are inconsistent with the way that a Bigfoot would kill, despite tracks left beside the victims and the violence with which some limbs were wrested off of or nearly off of some victims."
"Wonder if Bigfoot does use condoms?" razzed Morgan. "Man, they barely make those things big enough for me. Stores out there probably have to order outsized ones for Bigfoot. They may just be out of stock now. Maybe we can find his condom dealer. He'd stand out as a customer. This may be how we break the case, Hotch!"
Hotchner rolled his eyes and everyone else groaned. Jareau wadded up a candy wrapper and threw it at Morgan. Garcia and Seaver snickered.
Hotchner called for the next photo. "This is Melissa Winters. She was reported missing a week ago, and may be in the hands of the killer or killers. She's 18, blonde, very attractive, and a popular girl at the same junior college. But she wasn't close to the two dead students from that school. We don't know yet if she's a victim or just ran away from home. But her parents say that would be out of character. She's always been a trustworthy girl, not rebellious or flighty. No known record of involvement with drugs. Wasn't dating any boys in particular, but the sheriff has been talking to all of her known friends. And they're checking to see if she may have been hospitalized anywhere or fallen in a river, etc. So far, they've drawn a blank, and it doesn't look good."
After some additional discussion that basically added little to what they knew, Hotchner announced that they'd meet at the plane in an hour.
"Clear your desks and get together whatever you need besides your Go bags and we'll take a shuttle to the plane. We're lucky; we drew the newer Gulfstream 550 for this trip. It has a range of 6,300 miles, so we should be able to fly straight out there without having to refuel en route. It's still going to be a long trip. The max speed is 600 MPH, but for fuel economy and to avoid excess wear on the aircraft, the pilots don't want to travel at full throttle unless there's an urgent need.
"I don't think there's anything to this Bigfoot angle, but on Mr. Diefenbaker's recommendation, we'll take a few 10mm H-K semi-auto carbines and a couple of rifles, just in case. Shotguns, we'll draw from the armory at the Seattle field office and they'll pack some boxes of slug loads for us. Those should stop any animal we might encounter, bears included."
JJ looked nervous. "They have bears there? For real? Please tell me that you're just trying to scare us."
"They have bears," confirmed Rossi. "And elk, deer, cougars, and other animals that you'd expect in a rural region in Washington state. I think they even have rattlesnakes. But you're a bold special agent of the finest law enforcement organization in the world. I can say that with impunity because there aren't any Texas Rangers or Canadian Mounties here to argue the point. But seriously, JJ, we'll protect you. Or, just show any aggressive bears your 'creds'. Tell them that you're from the IRS. That'll scare anyone. The bear will run away."
There was general laughter, and Jareau threw another candy wrapper at the bearded Italian-American agent.
"Very funny," she said. "Dave, I really am a little afraid of the woods. But I'll do my job. I just want someone to stay with me and carry a rifle if we do get out in the sticks to view a body or something. The only bear that I want to see is Smokey, on TV or on a Forest Service billboard."
Hotchner wanted to return to the mission. "We'll order sandwiches or pizza; whatever you want, and have it delivered to the plane. We'll eat in the air. The refrigerator will have the usual soft drinks and candy bars, etc. Does anyone have any other questions?"
"Can I order fried chicken?" wondered Seaver. "I'm really hungry. I got off without breakfast today."
Hotchner tried not to look impatient. "Yes, JJ will tell you where to order from. Actually, the cafeteria can probably provide that in a flight lunch. Now, if no one else has any profound comments, it's wheels up in an hour."
XXX
Once in the air, they settled down to eating and to discussing the case and various personal matters. And other cases were also discussed, some having what many thought to have at least as high priority as this Bigfoot nonsense.
"But don't resent being sent to Washington," Hotchner reminded them. "There is a serial killer out there, and this latest missing girl's life may well be in urgent danger. The sooner we solve this case, the better. And the better we'll look to the Assistant Director. If Diefenbaker likes how we deal with this, he may cut us some slack in other areas. I'm doing next year's budget soon, and the better we look, the more I can hope to get allocated for our operation."
"How far is it out there?" asked Seaver. "Seattle is at the other end of the country from us unless you count Hawaii. Can I get a nap, or is it closer by air than I think?"
"Actually, the physical distance showed at 2,716.9 miles when I checked," said Dr. Spencer Reid. "But with headwinds, we may go slower than expected airspeed, or with a good tail wind, faster. Either way, you should be able to grab a nap."
"Look at the bright side," suggested Rossi. "Maybe we can get fresh salmon out there. Seattle has some impressive fresh fish markets and they have other great food there, too."
Jareau snorted. "With our luck and the need for speed in getting to Elk Pass, we'll probably find the SUV's we get stocked with Spam and beans."
"I'll try to set time aside for a little shopping and a decent meal or two in Seattle after we solve the case," said Hotchner. "We've been running full steam ahead lately. I think we can arrange to stay there for a day or two while we file our reports. Let's just try to catch whoever is killing these people, fast. I can't help thinking that we're probably Melissa Winters's best hope, if she's still alive."
XXX
Some six hours later, they were alerted by the pilot to watch for the skyline of a rapidly approaching Seattle. It was still full daylight, because they had been flying west.
"Oh, that's beautiful!" exclaimed Ashley Seaver.
"But look at how their tall buildings are so close to the ocean," mulled Reid. "If they ever have hurricanes out here, they're at tremendous risk of astronomical loss. And I wouldn't want to live on those San Juan islands if a storm came. But Sydney has buildings close to the water like that. So do Manhattan, Honolulu, and other big coastal cities. "
"I bet that you can see into Canada from that tower," opined "JJ" Jareau.
"Now that you mention Canada," teased Rossi, "I think they have mainly black bears here in Washington, although they have some big ones. But I bet an occasional grizzly comes down from British Columbia or across from Montana. We might see one of those grizzlies. Wouldn't that be swell?"
"Dave, shut up," pleaded Jareau. "You're just trying to scare me."
"Best eat your spinach and be afraid of nothing," razzed Morgan. "Hey, that works for Popeye. Seriously, I bet they have more black bears out here than they have black people."
"Will you two PLEASE quit talking about bears!" snapped JJ.
XXX
After landing, they were introduced to the Special Agent in Charge (SAC) of the Seattle field office, who expressed interest in the case. He had three vehicles ready for them: a long black Suburban and two shorter SUV's, all equipped with camping supplies and shotguns as well as compact Motorola radios for all team members.
"I'm also supplying you with a driver who is familiar with getting around up there in the mountains near Elk Pass," added the SAC, whose name was Phillip Gaines.
"That won't be necessary," said Hotchner, fearing that the real motive for this driver and guide was to plant a spy in their group. Either the SAC or Asst. Director Diefenbaker had probably thought of this idea. Like his predecessor, Strauss, Diefenbaker was a little suspicious of such independent units within the Bureau and liked to be assured that he knew what they were doing at any given time. In turn, they tried to avoid staid procedures and operate as they saw fit within general guidelines. Often, they adopted unconventional procedures if that was what it took to apprehend a serial killer.
"Look," said Gaines. "Asst. Director Diefenbaker asked me to be sure that you had an experienced guide. The roads up there can be confusing or even hazardous, especially if you have to go on remote dirt paths. The guy I'm loaning you is Bill Waters. He's a hunter, a hiker and a camper. He'll be good for technical advice, to keep you safe. Let him ride in the front vehicle, and he'll signal you if anything unusual is ahead. And he's not there just to snoop. We realize that you need some leeway to develop leads and talk to witnesses. The idea here is not to insist on rigorous enforcement of Bureau guidelines. We just want this murderer caught, and the sooner, the better. But you may need Bill to help smooth over any ruffled feathers with the local sheriff, if that becomes an issue. Bill is a good man and I told him to help, and not to conduct discrete espionage for anyone in the other Washington office; the D.C. one."
Hotchner saw where practicality lay and thanked Gaines for his consideration.
In view of the late hour, they checked into a motel and had dinner together as they planned. Everyone was relieved to find that Waters seemed like a good agent and he had entertaining accounts of local cases and was possessed of a wry wit that amused everyone.
They agreed to meet in the motel coffee shop at 8:00AM for breakfast, and then to begin their journey east, over a range of the Rockies.
No one reported any problems the next day except for Jareau, who complained of a nightmare involving a bear. Waters noticed that this amused Rossi and Morgan.
On this note, they boarded the vehicles and headed out of Seattle, for whatever experiences awaited them in the forests around Elk Pass. Bigfoot or not, the BAU was en route to solving some murders!
XXX
The road was long, although nothing eventful occurred. However, at one point, they paused to allow a bull elk to cross the road. The BAU team was impressed, most not having seen an elk except in a zoo and that long past. The magnificent animal inspired awe in all, and some fear in a couple.
"Are those things dangerous?" wondered Reid. "They're so big, and those antlers look like a man's dream of phallic significance projection."
Waters laughed. "Yeah, they can be formidable, especially during the rut. We have a sub-species of elk in Washington coastal forests, called the Roosevelt elk. They're even more imposing than most. They could stomp a car with those big hooves. Actually, moose have done just that. But unless you run across one on foot when it's really mad at a rival or just at the world, you probably won't be molested. The potential is sure there, and even ordinary deer sometimes attack people with grim results. But that's generally when some fool who's seen too much cute animal junk on TV tries to feed them or pet them. Some fools tolerate them around their houses where they eat the garden vegetables or other forage and then some ninny wants to play with them. That can end badly. Happens every year, in probably every US state. But elk seldom damage people. Most leave them alone.
"As for Agent Jareau's concern about bears… now, that's really valid. Generally, a black bear that sees you in the woods will run off. But some don't. And most truly predatory bear attacks are by black bears. I've studied this stuff for years and have examined many attacks, and if the goal is to stalk and eat you, a black bear is the more likely culprit. For one thing, they're in most states, while we have grizzlies in only a few. And a lot in Canada, of course, and Alaska has many. But grizzlies are rare here. Probably visitors from Canada. British Columbia is just north of the Washington border, after all, and a bear has no idea of international boundaries. By the way, British Columbia also has cougars and has more attacks than any other Canadian province or any US state. But we have cougars here, too, and attacks all over North America are increasing. Frankly, I'm as much or more concerned about cougars than I am about bears."
Jareau shuddered and she and Seaver looked thoughtfully at one another.
XXX
It was 3:00PM by the time they reached the sheriff's office in Elk Pass. The team was greeted by Undersheriff John Knowles, who explained that the sheriff was speaking that afternoon at the Masonic Lodge.
"He'll probably have to field some questions about these Bigfoot killings. I think he'll tell the Masons and the media that you're expected. We have to look as if we're doing something, and there's another girl gone missing, as of last night. Her parents are very concerned."
Hotchner grimaced. "I'd rather that our arrival wasn't publicized. We aren't here for publicity. We'd rather work quietly to assess the evidence and see what profile we can offer. If the offender knows that we're here, it could cause him to alter his behavior or even go to ground and hide until we leave. In a worst case scenario, it may even accelerate abductions and murders."
The Undersheriff shrugged. "It was a tradeoff, and word of your being here would probably leak out. Still, I see your point and I'm sorry that it may be a problem. Look, I want to show you to a room we've set up for your team and introduce you to a few of our key people. Then, we'll take you to lunch at one of the best restaurants in town at the sheriff's expense. Of course, we'll find a way to charge it off as a business expense, so please don't feel embarrassed or hesitant to accept. We'll get a private room there or a remote section so we can discuss the case. But I know that you haven't eaten and neither have several of us here in the office, and it'll be a good opportunity to get acquainted and share info. And I don't think you'll find a better steak in the state than what we'll get there."
"Sounds as if it might beat Federal Building cafeteria lasagna at that," observed Rossi.
Waters laughed. "There's no Federal Building here, anyway, and it's probably a plus. John here is telling the truth: the local ranchers raise some excellent beef. And I've worked with John a few times on other cases. We're in good hands if he says this place sets a good table. By the way, he's a hell of a trout fisherman. He put me in a place last year where I caught a steelhead that weighed 17 pounds. That's a good fish to be this far upriver from the coast. The browns, cutthroats, and rainbows here get to a good size, too, especially in Whittington Lake. "
"Man, I don't think we're gonna have time to fish. That's a hell of a way to waste time, anyway." Morgan was not impressed and he was miffed over the gaffe about their arrival being made public.
Knowles studied the black agent carefully. "Don't sell fishing short, Agent. The poet Omar Khayyam said that God does not detract from the sum of Man's days those hours that he spends in fishing. It's very therapeutic, and this is a stressful job. And I think that fly-fishing for trout is the ultimate expression of the angler's art. Not that any of us will be going fishing until this case is solved. But if you want to come back here later on vacation, I'd be happy to show you our better waters."
Rossi was amused. "A lawman and a philosopher. And a man who appreciates a good steak! I think I'm going to enjoy being here more than I expected."
"I think we'd better see this room and get set up," said Hotchner. "Then, we'll be honored to accept your hospitality. I'm sure that we're all hungry, and we need to be briefed on your latest abduction, if that's what it is."
"Uh, Mr. Knowles… do you have bears near town? Could a bear have been what killed any of these victims and made some imaginative people think it was a Bigfoot?" Jareau still had bears on her mind.
"Yes, ma'am, we've considered that. I'll be happy to discuss that angle at lunch and you're about to meet a biologist who can address that question with genuine expertise."
Seaver patted Jareau on the shoulder. "Don't worry, JJ. We'll save you if a bear breaks into the restaurant."
Knowles looked puzzled, and then smiled. "A little concerned about bears, Agent Jareau?"
Hotchner rolled his eyes and gestured to the undersheriff to lead them to their operations room. He noticed that Waters, Rossi, and Morgan grinned at Jareau, who stuck out her tongue at them. He decided to speak to certain agents about this bear thing. Fun was fun, but this might Embarrass the Bureau if it got out of hand. On the plus side, at least the local authorities were more than the relative bumpkins that he'd half expected. Knowles was the first lawman whom he'd heard quote Omar Khayyam or any other poet. And a good steak at the expense of the local sheriff did sound very attractive. It certainly beat having hamburgers and greasy fries somewhere, sticking to the per diem meal allowance from the Bureau…
XXX
They were soon seated in a quite nice restaurant called Beefeater's. It was somewhat rustic in décor, with knotty pine walls adorned with mounted game heads and colorful Indian blankets. A cheery fireplace enhanced a stone wall in the bar. The Undersheriff called over the manager, whom he knew well, and asked if the group might have use of one of the two private rooms. "We have some outside consultants with us and need privacy to discuss a case," he explained.
The manager readily agreed and called over some bus boys and had them shove three tables together in the closer reserved room and assigned waitresses to attend the diners.
Everyone commented positively on the décor, other than Morgan and Jareau, neither of whom was fond of seeing the mounted heads of wild animals. The others could take or leave that and were aware that it was a frequent decorative theme in western states. They were, after all, far from the BAU's home grounds in the District of Columbia. Hotchner reminded himself that many people from the West detested the eastern seaboard states north of Virginia and he resolved to be diplomatic. Many here distrusted the Federal government, especially with a Democrat in the White House.
He smiled as he noticed Jareau look at a full mount of a bear rug on the wall and take a chair that left her back to that display. Seaver and Rossi grinned. A tall deputy also saw and looked puzzled. Hotchner had seen him looking at Seaver as they waited for tables and recalled that he had also done so back at the sheriff's office. He shrugged mentally. What the hell...Ashley Seaver drew male attention. It didn't mean that she wouldn't be accepted as a professional just because she attracted men. In fact, he might be able to use that to his advantage as they interfaced with local officers. He made a note to see if that was something that he could exploit.
As they were getting settled in and starting to talk, they were interrupted by the arrival of Sheriff Ford and another man, whom he introduced as a biologist with the US Fish and Wildlife Service.
"This is Dr. Christaan van Reenan," the sheriff related, "and he mostly deals with bears, cougars, and other large predatory animals, especially bears. But he's as qualified as anyone we've got when it comes to knowing about Bigfoot. He's read most of the literature about the species and he knows pongids and other big apes well enough to tell if he's looking at their fur or footprints. Maybe we'd better hear from Chris before we get into the details of these deaths. Chris? You're on stage!"
But van Reenan was delayed by the arrival of the waitress who took his and Grant Ford's orders: steaks, potatoes ,and broccoli with garden salads for both men. Ford ordered coffee, and van Reenan agreed.
That accomplished, Jareau asked what a pongid was. "Is it some kind of ape?"
"Yes, quite. Specifically, it just means gorillas. But I have the ability to identify other great apes, and none has shown enough similarity with the presumed Bigfoot or Sasquatch to be confused. The sole hair attributed to this creature of which I'm aware was submitted to the Army CID lab many years ago, and they found no match to any known animal. Does that confirm that it was from a Sasquatch? It only means that they were unable to identify what it was. Might it have been from Bigfoot? Ja, but who knows? Without more Bigfoot-confirmed hairs, who can say? But in this case, we have no hairs to process."
Rossi stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Is there really anything at all to suggest involvement of a Bigfoot other than some alleged tracks? Can you determine if those were fake? I'd certainly think so."
The scientist looked speculatively at the agent and replied, "Well, in the main, you are correct. Some of the tracks we've seen are from the same set of feet, and frankly, I think they're phony. I can go into greater detail if you like, although that would probably bore anyone but a scientist. What probably will interest you is that the tracks do show sophistication. Someone knows the approximate dimensions and weight distribution likely for such an animal, probably standing from eight to nine feet tall and weighing some 350 pounds, maybe more. That's significant in itself, for the public would muff it if they tried to guess such things. A movie made about a Bigfoot in a southern state showed such footprints and a friend of mine who has a mate who saw the tracks in the bean field there said that they appeared to be faked for the movie. Too long and narrow, with just three toes. That isn't proof that the animal didn't leave tracks, just that the ones for the film were likely bogus. And there were eyewitness accounts and other data that lead me to believe that that alleged 'monster' may well be real. One chap even went to hospital in Texarkana for injuries that he swore it inflicted on him!"
"You look like you're about to reveal something more spectacular," said Hotchner. "Am I right?
The scientist nodded. "There were what I believe may be authentic tracks by three of your victims."
He turned to Knowles and said, "John, did you bring those files I asked for?"
The Undersheriff nodded and pulled over an empty chair from the next table. He set his briefcase on it and took out a thick manila envelope of 8X10-inch color photos. They were especially detailed and when he handed them to Hotchner with a request to pass them around and back to him, everyone was impressed.
"Can't we get this on our tablets?" asked Reid. "We may need to refer to them again if we see anything similar in future."
Knowles nodded. "Sure, when we come into the office tomorrow, we can have a briefing and upload any files that you don't have yet. We're adding more in the morning, and I'll make sure that those include these footprints. Now, Chris, maybe you'd better tell our friends what to look for there and why those prints are so important."
"Certainly," said the big scientist. "Apart from the overall appearance, which is the right size and the right shape to support a large pongid-like creature that stands erect, you'll notice the sort of markings like one finds in fingerprinting. American birth certificates include the infant's footprints because each is unique to a particular neonate and remains so as that person ages. They're a positive source of ID. You've got the photos just now, Agent Rossi. Do you see what I mean? Those lines and whorls are imprinted in the clay by the river bank near where the body of that poor Greek chap was found, Stavros by name. The imprints are very detailed and they are unique to a particular Sasquatch, I'm sure. Look carefully at those and then look at the tracks left near Miss Jenner's corpse. You'll see not only much the same clarity, but that the markings are different! That means that we are dealing with at least two Sasquatches or Bigfoots, Bigfeet, whatever.
"The crucial thing to note is, " he continued, "that these lines and whorls that appear on real feet are virtually impossible to fake. It would require a specialized scientist who knew just what to try to present, and even he would find no way that I can think of of generating the markings and impressing them into the ground to look as if they were natural. Even the way the foot muscles are deployed suits the exact terrain and what those muscles would be doing in that situation. To create two such sets of footprints is all but unthinkable!"
"What about some sort of photo duplicating process?" wondered Rossi. "Could they paste a printout on fake feet and depress the ground with those where the prints would show?"
"Pretty unlikely, I should think," spoke Senior Deputy Peter Blacklaws. "We thought of that in a sort of brainstorming session, trying to conjure up any means by which those tracks could be fakes. We know that computerized machines can even make guns now to a set of blueprints, but those are fairly rare and are quite expensive. That one would be in the hands of anyone wanting to make such fake Bigfoot tracks and having the expertise to get the shape of the feet right for the load bearing is unlikely. Those aren't just very large human-like prints. The arch and the proportion of the heel width and the like and the balls of the feet, etc. are just not proportional to what a human that size would display. These are clearly a different species."
"How do you know so much about tracks, Deputy?" demanded Morgan. "You a big hunter and tracker or something? Or do you have scientific training like the good doctor here?" He nodded toward van Reenan, who leaned back a bit and observed the black agent through narrowed eyes.
Blacklaws seemed surprised. But he replied calmly, "In fact, yes, I do hunt and am a serious amateur naturalist and a student of Bigfoot and other cryptozoological animals. Those that may be myths…or not. I'm losing faith in Nessie, the Loch Ness plesiosaur and the Lake Champlain equivalent. And I think the Nandi bear was quite probably a heavily-built hyena seen in poor light by impressionable people, black and white. That was in colonial Kenya, from around the time of World War I and for a few decades after. No bears are found in Africa, so it would be quite remarkable for there to be this one in the Nandi tribal lands. Some sightings may have involved especially stocky baboons.
"And I rather fancy that at least some witnesses had had a bellyful of pombe, the native beer. Same for the few European witnesses, whom one would normally accord more respect, as the natives tend to be easily impressed and be tellers of tall tales. Even now, many believe in witchcraft.
"Anyway, I come from a long line of hunters and bush trekkers. My great grandfather was the legendary Geoffrey Blacklaws, a white hunter, author, and rancher in Kenya in the 1920's until he and the rest of the family moved to South Africa following Kenyan independence in 1962. His nippers, including my dad, also became professional hunters and an uncle was a game ranger. I grew up studying animals and when I immigrated to the USA, I kept it up here. I can almost always recognize any of our local fauna and their tracks. And Chris here is one of my best friends. We spend a lot of time in the woods, hunting, fishing, even just birdwatching. He and other biologists he works with and our local game warden have taught me a lot. And I've read a bunch about Bigfoot, which I think may just be real, perhaps in several species ranging from the Himalayas to the eastern USA. Some probably crossed over the onetime sea bridge between Asia and the American continent in prehistoric times, as did elk and other animals. Some bears were native here, but I think the big brown or grizzly bears may have come over that Bering Sea Bridge. The Indians often have tribal myths about Bigfoot that go back for hundreds of years."
Morgan shook his head. "Man, I can't believe I'm hearing this. So, you're gonna tell us that your serial killer is a big mythical monkey? Where'd you study law enforcement? The Discovery Channel? Animal Planet?"
"In fact, no," said the sheriff, wanting to steer off a confrontation between Morgan and the handsome Senior Deputy. He'd noticed that Morgan had been giving Blacklaws some evil stares and thought it had something to do with either his accent or with that blonde FBI agent Seaver, at whom Peter kept glancing. She had looked back and had once blushed and lowered her eyes and blushed a little more. She'd also played with her hair a little when she knew that Blacklaws was looking.
"As I was saying," Ford continued, "we have evidence from the Medical Examiner that the homicides were in all likelihood committed by humans, and he'll address that when you see him at the morgue tomorrow. We have pictures here, filed in your tablets. But seeing the actual damage may offer a more refined view; trip some understanding that seeing the photo may not. The bodies haven't been released for burial yet, although the families are bugging me to do that. After you view them, I'm going to release all but two that have particular damage that the ME will point out. I'll release them soon, too, if we can't learn more from them. I do respect the grief of the survivors and they want to hold the funerals. So be it: but I want your team to see them first, Agent Hotchner.
"By the way, do we need to be formal? You can call me Grant if I can call you Aaron. Is everyone comfortable with that?"
Hotchner thought rapidly. He was somewhat formal and was reluctant to be on too familiar terms with local officers. But this sheriff was a pal of Diefenbaker's and he needed cooperation. And the Undersheriff and this Blacklaws fellow seemed smart and helpful. They weren't in a pissing contest to see if they could outguess the BAU, nor were they resentful of the Federal presence. Actually, they seemed friendly and inquisitive. And he had noticed that Rossi's eyes had lit up when they were talking about coming back while on vacation, to fish. It wouldn't hurt to play along and forge better relations in case they or Waters needed to interact with this county again. So, he said that, yes, first names were acceptable if his team agreed.
The agents looked at one another and nodded, Morgan somewhat hesitantly, looking again at Blacklaws. He'd didn't like the man's accent, he didn't like where he'd come from, and he knew another candidate for alpha male status and accomplished ladies' man when he saw one. Blacklaws pricked his vanity, and he felt some racial resentment, too.
Jareau decided to ask what they'd all been wondering about. "Are you and Peter from South Africa, then, Chris? How long have you been here? And is English your first language? You speak it well, but with some foreign phrasing. And that accent… It isn't British and it isn't like Australian, either. But the way you say things seems mostly British?"
The tall biologist nodded. "Yes, Peter and I are from South Africa. I was born in Johannesburg. Our accents differ some because I'm Afrikaans-speaking; for me, English is my second language, although I learned it from an early age. His ancestors began landing in the 1820's, and were the cause of the Great Trek, when my people took ox-drawn wagons over the Drakensberg Range to found the Transvaal Republic and the Orange Free State. We resented the English desire to control too much. Actually we Afrikaaner/Boer people were in some ways much like your own pioneers who trekked west in similar wagons. By the by, 'Boer' just means 'farmer.' We now work in the usual array of occupations, so it's not terribly accurate.
"Oh: I forgot to note that my family arrived in South Africa in 1728. Cape Town was founded by the Dutch in 1652, not long after your own Puritans or Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. Few Americans grasp that Europeans settled there that far back. Apart from the Dutch, on whose language Afrikaans is based, a lot of French Protestants arrived after 1685, when the Edict of Nantes was withdrawn. That left France an unhealthy place for non-Catholics. There were also some German settlers who were assimilated into the Dutch and French elements.
"Peter was raised in the Eastern Cape and later, near Cape Town. He was born in Port Elizabeth, in what's now called Kwa-Zulu/Natal. He was trained as a winemaker, apart from his hunting jaunts. In fact, his family has a winery here in Washington, where he worked until getting US citizenship and becoming a copper.
"I suppose that sums us up in a nutshell. But I'm not the first Afrikaaner whom you've seen. The Academy Award winning actress Charlize Theron is one, although she now has a US accent, the better to get film roles. The CBS News Chief Foreign Correspondent, Lara Logan, is South African, from Durban. Candice Swanepoel, a Victoria's Secret model and her fellow Angel, Behati Prinsloo, are also of that lineage, although Prinsloo's family now lives in neighboring Namibia. I quite like Candice's accent. If you haven't seen her on TV talk shows, she's in many videos and interviews on YouTube. Peter keeps hoping that she'll sign autographs at the VS store here. I think he has a crush on several of those models." Van Reenan's eyes twinkled as he watched his friend flush a little as they all laughed.
Jareau was intrigued. "I can't say that I know many of their models' names, but are you saying that they have a shop in Elk Pass? What's the population here?
Grant Ford answered. "Yes, my wife and daughter shop there. And it's in a mall that's the primary one for miles around. Most of our stores are in those strip malls or in rustic sort of parks. Overall population here in town is some 14,000, and the colleges and service facilities, car repairmen, etc. are here in Elk Pass. A lot of shoppers and motel guests are transitory. They live in surrounding areas, some with just homesteads. And yes, that does somewhat make it hard for us to define suspects. There are a lot of people to keep track of, and so far, none isolated as having been involved with the victims. The killers may be some common friend of a few or they may all be stranger murders, the hardest to solve."
That left them feeling sober and Rossi was glad when the waitress offered pie or cake.
"Better take her up on it, "advised Waters. "This place bakes all their own desserts and they're infinitely better than what you get in chain restaurants."
Talk turned to fishing; the better to dispel the solemn attitude after crime scene photos had been passed around on their tablets. The women expressed delight with their fruit tarts: delicious, but not very fattening.
Ashley Seaver made a point of asking Blacklaws about dry flies for trout. "The only one I remember is the Royal Coachman," she admitted. "It's so pretty with those nice red and green colors. Almost a Christmas fly."
The senior deputy regaled her with information about the matter, in which the other men soon joined. Hotchner and Reid pretended to participate, but kept much of their attention on the case notes in their tablets. One other was not intrigued. Derek Morgan sulked and was seen to glare several times at both of the former South Africans, especially at Peter Blacklaws. Hotchner resolved to counsel him about projecting a hostile attitude. He wasn't sure if race was the issue or if something more personal about the handsome deputy was the cause. But he was determined to nip whatever was brewing in the bud, lest it Embarrass the Bureau, a cardinal sin for agents.
XXX
Conversation continued, some actually case-related, which the sheriff joked justified him finding a way to write off the cost of the meal on his budget. Then Seaver excused herself to visit the ladies' room and a couple of minutes later, Blacklaws followed.
Jareau raised her eyebrows and she and Reid exchanged a glance, and then both noted that Morgan was sulking, almost glowering, and kept looking at Blacklaws's receding back. Something was evidently bothering him about one or both of the former South Africans, and it showed.
When Seaver came out of the restroom and started down the short hallway that led to the main dining room, she found Blacklaws coming the same way. He looked surprised and said, "Fancy meeting you here. But I think we need to arrange a new meeting place. If we keep this up, people will talk." He smiled to show that he was teasing.
Seaver gave him a cool look, trying to avoid seeming too amused. "Are you flirting with me, Deputy?"
"Lord, I hope so," he replied. "I'm doing my best to. Look, are you married or engaged or anything awful like that? Or would you like to meet me for a drink and conversation later tonight or tomorrow? I've enjoyed explaining trout flies to you and maybe we can get better acquainted and find other common interests. We can even discuss the case, but I'd like to get to know you more in general. Or am I presuming overmuch on too short an acquaintance, to ask you out, I mean?"
She studied him carefully although she'd been looking furtively at him at the table. He did look good: a bit over six feet tall, dark hair with a closely trimmed mustache. He was in uniform, in a khaki shirt and dark green trousers with a wide gold stripe down the side. His shoulder tabs were gold, possibly meaning that he worked out of the sheriff's office in a supervisory role. Other deputies she'd noticed here wore red or green tabs, probably indicative of Traffic and Patrol. His gun belt was black leather, basketweave stamped. The sidearm was a Beretta M-92FS, a 9mm. Black Wellington boots completed the uniform, and she noted that they and the gun belt were nicely polished and seemed to be of high quality.
"Do you often ask out visiting FBI agents?" she wondered, trying to buy time while she decided how to respond to his invitation.
"We don't actually see a lot of you," he responded. "Waters and a few others have been in before and made friends among us on the force. And, yes I've taken Bill to lunch a couple of times, but he's a guy. I'm not asking you out primarily to discuss the FBI. In case you haven't checked a mirror lately, you're visually more impressive than Bill Waters or the other agents from the Seattle or Spokane offices. And I like you, the sound of your voice, and the way you ask questions. If you'll be here awhile, I thought we might enjoy getting together and seeing a film or something. But if I'm being presumptive, forgive me. I just figured that if I didn't ask soon, some other deputy might beat me to it. You do tend to draw the male eye…"
"Let me think about this," Seaver said. "Have you got a card with your phone number? Agent Hotchner usually keeps us together while we're working a case, but I am officially off duty at night, unless there's a real need to be on call. Maybe we can talk on the phone and decide on something? Unless Candice Swanepoel comes to town, in which case, I guess you'd be after her to go out instead of me?" She smiled, amused at his blush.
"If she makes a visit to the VS shop here, I'd like to say hello and get her autograph; Chris told the truth about that. But I doubt that internationally famous models date cops much. And the newspaper hasn't run any ads about her visiting anytime soon. Anyway, you're real and she's sort of a fantasy figure. Fact is, I am impressed with you, and I might just date you instead of Candice if I ever had that choice. We'd probably have more in common. Oh: yes, I do have some cards. Let me fumble one out of my ID case." And he did. He drew a gold Cross ballpoint pen and wrote his home number on the back.
Seaver took the card and read it quickly. "Senior Deputy, it says. I didn't quite catch what you do here. Are you a patrol supervisor?"
"No," Blacklaws demurred. "I'm primarily one of our investigators. I don't always work in uniform, but do also patrol when needed and I work a desk at headquarters when not investigating cases. I'm on desk duty this week, except when I need to be helping your lot from the Bureau. The Sheriff asked that I interface with your team and see that you get around to wherever you need to go and perform introductions where that may be helpful. I know the area well and can introduce you to merchants, college administrators, and the like. And if we need to go out into the woods to examine a crime scene, I'll let you know what to bring. You don't want to get careless out there amidst Mother Nature. She can be a cruel parent if you don't know what you're doing, and I sense that your team mostly works in cities, not out in the bush? Mind you, Agent Jareau is probably overreacting to the bear threat, but I wouldn't write it off. We really do have bears here, and cougars, and rattlesnakes. But they seldom menace people. You just need to be prepared on the rare occasions when it happens.
"I say, have you actually got even the basic survival items, like a knife and a compass; waterproofed matches, that sort of thing? I can loan you a few things if we're together, but if many of you will need to go out in the forest, we need to swing by a store and see that everyone has the essential items, just in case they get lost or a storm comes."
"You have a point, "admitted Seaver. "Look, why don't I call you later tonight and you can tell me what I'd need and maybe we can shop for it in case it looks like we'd be going forth into the primeval wilderness? I guess that you're an expert? I have to say, I never before said that I'd call a guy and talk about knives and matches before a first date. In my job, we're normally wary of men who carry matches. They may be arsonists!" She smiled to put him at ease.
"That's not the sort of fire that I'm hoping to start with you," he teased back. "Seriously, please do call. I think we could be friends, and you clearly need a chap to help you understand trout flies. Who knows? If I impress you enough, you may come back and actually go fishing with me. Or something. I sense that I do want to know you better and it isn't all physical."
She grinned. "But some is physical?"
He smiled and said, "Oh, lord, yes. Don't be too jealous of those models. You turn male heads quite well yourself, Special Agent Seaver. The FBI ought to use pictures of you on recruiting posters. There'd be no shortage of men applying! By the way, I'm Peter if you're Ashley."
She looked frankly into his face, decided that she liked what she saw there and flushed slightly. "Okay, Peter and Ashley it is."
They looked around as Rossi and Jareau walked up. "Is everything all right?" asked the older agent.
"Yes, of course," answered Blacklaws. "We were just discussing interagency cooperation. I look forward to working with your team."
And Seaver and Blacklaws walked out to the table before they could be asked any more probing questions about their delay in returning sooner.
XXX
As the group left, the sheriff told them where to find a good motel and they parted, agreeing to meet at the sheriff's office the next morning.
As the agents entered their SUV's, Hotchner took Morgan aside and asked what bothered him about van Reenan and Blacklaws.
"Hotch, I know a little about South Africa, at least from a black man's perspective. Remember apartheid, their system of segregation? I don't hold with that, and these guys probably came here to keep from living under black rule now that things have changed. They're probably both racists. And that Blacklaws guy thinks he's God's gift to women."
Rossi laughed. "And you don't think you are? Morgan, you think you're Mr. Superstud. You just don't like a rival, especially if he's white."
Morgan spun around and snapped," I told you, that guy is a racist. And I don't like how he looks at Seaver. He's gonna make a play for her: wait and see!"