"I really don't like the idea of you guys going there."
The profilers could hear the quick clack-clack of Garcia's keys as she sped through the several websites in search of the information necessary to their investigation.
"What's up, mama?" Morgan's flirtatious banter wasn't reciprocated as usual. Garcia looked unusually serious on the small screen.
"This is the Bermuda Triangle of towns, Derek. I'm not kidding either! There have been suspicious deaths stretching all the way back to a large house fire that killed a large family. Only three survived: a Peter Hale who escaped, but ended up in a long-term care facility with severe burns to 90% of his body, and his niece and nephew Derek and Laura Hale only because they were in school when the fire occurred. That's only the first in a long string of suspicious deaths over the last fifteen years in Beacon Hills." The horror in her voice was unmistakable and everyone on the plane exchanged glances. Garcia was pretty susceptible to gruesome deaths, but she wasn't usually this squeamish over just reading about it.
"Any connection to our unsub?"
"Not that I can find, sir. The highway doesn't cut through Beacon Hills; in fact, it runs parallel instead of through the woods surrounding it, but still there is something hinky with this town!"
Hotch touched the tablet in his lap and brought up the same map his tech analyst was consulting. US Route 101 did indeed run parallel to Beacon Hills, but the body dump was within 15 miles of the town, so he still felt it would be prudent to stop in and chat with the local police.
"Tell me what we need to know about the local PD since they are unaware of our imminent arrival."
"Well, there isn't actually a police force since the town is only 30,000 -"
"That's a large enough population to sustain one," Reid broke in, unable to help himself. "There are towns of 300 people with 14 cops."
"Yes, Boy Wonder, but if you had let me finish: Beacon Hills is an unincorporated town and listed as a municipality. They are served by the Beacon County Sheriff's department. Fun fact: the town used to have a larger population in the seventies so the Sheriff's station was built in the center of town, but the economy and animal attacks, has whittled the property values so it's now it's by itself on the north-side of Beacon Hills. The closest properties to it are empty warehouses and an abandoned subway station."
"Why was there a subway station built there?" The curiosity was plain in Reid's voice.
"It was part of an ambitious plan to bring the Metro Rail north from southern California. It failed in the early eighties, but not before they had already started construction on the station."
"This is all interesting, Garcia, but you still haven't given me the information I asked for."
"Sorry, Agent Hotchner sir. You will be meeting Sheriff Janusz Stilinski; he's been there for nearly twenty years."
"Please call ahead and let them know we're coming."
"Already in the works."
"Good."
The screen winked out as the Skype call ended and Hotch continued scrolling through the documents on his tablet. The rest of the team were immersed in reading the facts as well.
"Do we know why no one ever connected these cases? I mean, the killer's methods are pretty brutal; he cuts his victims in half. This is exactly the sort of case that officers talk about."
Hotch looked up at Prentiss with his mouth pursed. "The bodies were pretty far spread and always seeming to be near small cities or towns surrounded by forests in California, Oregon, and Washington. Beacon Hills is similar in size and location to many of the other places where bodies were found. It's more surprising the report came from Highway Patrol and not the Sheriff's department given the proximity."
The case had come to them from the HSK Database they routinely scoured a few times a year. Since JJ's departure from the BAU, Garcia wrote a program that pinged whenever a geographical similarity popped up for dead bodies. Given the breadth of time - the earliest case dated back to the 1960's - this particular highway serial killer (or killers since they hadn't ruled out a team or pack yet) had worked along the entire Pacific Coast, though they hadn't discovered a particular pattern among the kills since it ranged from old to pre-pubescent of both sexes.
"So how are we going to play this since we weren't exactly invited to the party," Rossi mused, dark eyes trained on the BAU Section Chief.
"A lot of police departments won't want this problem and it definitely seems like this section of California has the highest amount of body dumps, though the first time near Beacon Hills. We are here to help catch him so he can't strike again."
"What I want to know is how the offender was able to abduct his victims? There isn't a lot of information on many of them; in fact, a good portion of them seem to be transient while others are from different states or counties than where they were eventually found. And no DNA was ever found on the bodies." Prentiss looked perturbed by this as it meant their killer was well-organized since he'd gone undetected for so long. It was obviously not going to be easy to find him. "The more I read about this unsub, the more I can't help but think of Breitkopf." There was a brief moment of silence at the reminder of the dangerous and cunning serial killer who was probably the most prolific killer they'd ever hunted.
"Even more interesting than that, however, is how they were cut in half," Reid responded absently, his head still bent over his tablet. "Apparently the victims were all still alive when the slicing began and five MEs postulated it was done with large smooth-edged tool, maybe a sword."
"A sword?" Morgan huffed a laugh. "Isn't that a little medieval?"
"True, but California hosts some of the largest gatherings of -"
"Reid, not now."
The doctor subsided beneath Hotch's stern glare, but the Section Chief caught the faint twitching in his fingers. It was a sign of Reid's anxiety at not being allowed to finish speaking his thoughts to the natural conclusion. Hotch suppressed a fond smile, though he could tell by the flicker of Reid's eyelashes he'd caught the amusement. A slight pout formed on the young profiler's lips and Hotch firmly turned away.
"This unsub is sadistic and extremely cold to be able to watch his victims die as he severs them in half. It isn't easy to slice through tissue, muscle, organs, and bone, especially with the person presumbly struggling to get away. Yet there wasn't any drugs found in the bodies according to the toxicology reports."
"There are drugs subtle enough to escape the tests or even dissipate upon death since many of the bodies weren't discovered for months, sometimes years." Reid tapped his screen for a few moments as he enlarged a document. "Here's a thought. What if instead of tying his victims down, our unsub hangs them from their wrists or hands? After a few hours the blood flow would worsen, one or both shoulders would dislocate, and leave them hanging there long enough, they would begin to suffocate."
Everyone winced at the thought. Either way the victim died - from blood loss due to the severing or from suffocation - it was done with maximum pain in mind. The unsub didn't just want them to die, but to suffer endlessly on their way out.
"Huh, this is weird."
"What did you find, Emily?"
The dark-haired agent shrugged. "The Beacon Hills body was the freshest they've discovered yet, only there for about three days and since it's summertime, there hasn't been any rain to wash away particulates. The Beacon County ME writes in her autopsy there were granules of a small purple flower ground into the wound, though she doesn't know yet what it is. The office is waiting on results to come back from Quantico."
"Once we've landed, Reid, I want you and Morgan to drive to the ME's to take a look at the body while Prentiss, Rossi, and I pay a visit to the Sheriff's department and start a little local glad handling so we can gain their coordination. We need to get a head of this before the unsub can strike again." Hotch looked at his tablet. "Keep me in the loop and remember to keep a low profile. The citizens of this town don't know about the possible serial killer stalking their highways so we don't want to start a mass hysteria. We will be staying in the Motel 6 on the edge of town, so dress down and try not to look like a Fed."
The others smirked and Hotch huffed. "Fine, I will try not to look like a Fed." He grabbed his go-bag and walked back towards the bathroom, ignoring his team's gently mocking laughter.
The young woman flailed awake, her screams ringing through the house. Her bedmate stirred, a heavily tattooed arm wrapping around her tiny waist as she was forcibly brought back into a leanly muscled chest.
"Shhh, you're safe, shhh."
Her screams continued unabated until she finally slumped in sheer exhaustion, her chest moving rapidly as she fought to breathe.
"They come with swords aflame and war in their hearts." Tears dripped steadily down her pale cheeks even as blue eyes stared blindly ahead. "One will die tonight."