"I'll gather the team," JJ said before leaving Hotch's office, case files in hand.
Hotch turned in his chair to face the screen behind him reporting on the three murder suicides in Ohio that had happened over the past week—the last one the previous night. He shut off the report and followed JJ out.
"The unsub seems to be controlling lower level criminals—those who did anything from lewd behavior to petty theft, all of whom did time—and forcing them to kill families followed by either killing themselves or being killed by the unsub. We'll know more when we get to the crime scenes," Agent Hotchner explained to the team.
"You said this has only been going on for the past week?" Reid asked.
JJ nodded her head.
"Then there has to be some record of this guy trying things out before," Morgan interjected.
"You're right," Rossi said. "He couldn't have developed an MO this precise without practice."
After the briefing, everyone left the room to ready their go-bags.
"Wheels up in 40 minutes," Hotch yelled out the doorway.
Reid clung to his cane as he stepped down into the bullpen and walked toward his desk. His free hand played with a loose thread on the hem of his gray cardigan. As he sat down in his chair and set his cane aside, two boney hands covered his eyes. He panicked at first, until he breathed in and smelled Marc Jacobs' Dream wafting off his "attacker." He spun in his chair to face the person.
"What are you doing here?" Reid asked while standing up, holding on the person's shoulder for support. "You never visit me at work."
Emily, Morgan, and Garcia were watching from the break room, getting there to-go cups for the plane.
"Who's the guy Reid's talking to?" Emily asked as she stirred in her fake sugar. "They seem a bit friendly."
The man with Reid leaned in to hug him softly. He had almost shoulder-length, blond hair half covered by a black beanie. His cardigan, jeans, V-neck t-shirt, and boots were also black.
"I didn't think anybody could be smaller than our baby genius. That guy has to be 110 lbs.—maybe less," Derek said as he studied the back of the mystery man.
"Looks to be around the same age as Reid, early 20's, right?" Emily asked.
"Must be. I just wish he'd turn a bit so we could see his face," Derek responded.
Emily turned to face Garcia, who was making another pot of coffee.
"Why aren't you ogling this guy as much as we are? You're usually the first to try to profile anyone near your babies."
"Profiling is your job. Mine is cyberspace," Garcia replied. She poured the coffee into the filter, shut the lid and pressed Brew. "Have fun in Ohio, hot chocolate," Garcia said before turning to walk to her office. "And Em?"
"Yeah, Garcia?"
"What makes you think I don't already know about him?" She asked, motioning to the slender man getting into the elevator.
"Hey, Garcia. What do you have for us?" Hotchner asked while Reid turned the computer and tilted the screen so everyone could see without crowding behind him his regular seat in the plane.
"The most recent victim/felon went by the name Jason Cobb. Convicted in '02 for shoplifting and after a few months in the county jail, tried to rob a convenience store with a gun," she rattled off while typing away. "I've found similar priors on all of the so-called suicide murderers. All the info has been sent to your phones."
"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch said before turning to the team. "Rossi and Reid, go to the most recent crime scene. Emily and Morgan, go to the first. All of you meet up at the second crime scene to compare notes. I'll send deputies to meet you at each scene that were present that night," he ordered.
Reid turned the computer back to himself and waved goodbye to Garcia. Red letters appeared at the bottom of the screen for a spilt second reading: WATCH OUT, GORGEOUS. HE EARNED SOME ATTENTION. Garcia blew him a kiss and the screen turned to static. Reid pulled his satchel a bit closer to himself.
"JJ, you'll need to hold a press conference as soon as possible to stop this media circus from getting any worse. The last thing we want is something the press speculates to set off the unsub." She nodded and took out her phone to make some calls.
"I'll meet Chief Foyer at the station and setup. We'll be landing in 30."
Everyone settled back into their seats, looking over case files, making calls, typing away on their phones—everyone but Reid. He tried to read through a 15th century novel his mother had sent him to calm down, but he was too distracted to keep up his normal reading pace.
They'll notice if I'm slow today. I don't need them being anymore worried about me. Reid thought as he secured his cane between the window and his seat. He cursed at his leg in silence. Why am I always the one getting shot?
He picked up his personal phone from the table and opened a text message sent last night at 3:49 AM:
You forgot something here you might need.
-C
He hit the reply button and typed out a message before hitting send:
Thanks for coming by today. You're a life saver.
-S
"Comparing the crime scenes showed us that this man is meticulous and controlled. Everything was set up just the way he needed it to be. This means he had plenty of time," Morgan explained to the detectives.
"Each location is only seven miles apart meaning that the unsub most likely lives within this comfort zone," Reid said while motioning to the map of the bulletin board.
"We believe this man has a connection to the local jail system whether that be a guard or technician we aren't sure. All of the criminals involved did time within 30 miles of this comfort zone—an easy commute," Hotchner explained.
"He's most likely white, around 29-35 in age. Under appreciated at work. His life is usually orderly and very much set in routine," Morgan said to the room.
"There was probably a major setback or tragedy in this guy's life in the past few weeks such as loss of job, loved one, relationship, or something happening in the jails," Rossi chimed in.
"Okay everybody. Go get your canvasing assignments and keep me posted. Let's catch this S.O.B.," Chief Foyer said to his officers.
The station bustled with phone calls to the tip hotline that JJ set up (none of which were relevant calls), officers coming and going, and victims' families looking for answers. Reid and Morgan sat on the table in front of the bulletin board shooting off ideas to help Garcia lessen the parameters of her searches.
"How could this guy have experience enough to have a solid and working MO without any priors?" Reid asked.
"Why do you think the guy wouldn't have priors? They could have met inside," Morgan replied.
"I don't think they met inside or we would have run across them in the initial checks of past bunkmates and so on. Plus, some of the men were from different jails. And with that in mind, the only people that could get near inmates in different jails would be part time guards and..." Reid stopped.
"What is it?" Morgan asked.
Reid took out his phone and dialed Garcia.
"Speak, mortal, and you may be heard," she answered.
"Hey, uh, Garcia? Have you looked into lawyers and representatives of the criminal victims?"
"No, but it'll just take a second." They could hear the tapping of her fingers on her keyboard. "Whoa."
"What is it, baby girl?" Morgan asked.
"They all had the same lawyer in charge of their hearings and appeals, but he didn't work with them during their initial trial because he was in a mental institute in Pennsylvania by his own accord."
"What's his name, Garcia?" Reid asked, impatient.
"Danny Summerland. I'm sending all of you the info on him and his address now," Garcia answered.
"Garcia, you are a goddess!" Reid exclaimed. Morgan gave him a look.
"Just another day at the office, gorgeous. Garcia out!"
Everyone on the plane was dosing off. They'd been in the air for about a half an hour. Rossi and Reid were they only ones left still semi awake. Rossi kept dosing off in the middle of spelling out a six letter word in his crossword puzzle. Reid waiting until Rossi had been out for a few minutes before limping to small restroom with his satchel in hand.
He sat down on the lid of the toilet and rummaged through his bag. Within a minute, a needle and vial were perched on the sink while Reid rolled up his sleeve passed his pointed elbow. Most of the track marks had faded, but four were still red and healing. He tied off his arm with surgical tubing with his right hand and teeth before carefully picked up the needle and vial. He punctured the top of the vial with the needle and sucked in a small amount of the clear substance.
I only need enough to get me home, then I can pass out. He told himself. I only need a little. Just a little.
He set the cool metal against him skin and pressed down slowly. Reid hissed from the initial pinch, but quickly held his breath. The last thing he wanted was the team asking if he was okay. He pushed the liquid into his vein and threw his head back in a low moan.
Just enough to get me by. Just enough to get me through tonight.