+++This will be set before JJ leaves because, to be honest, it flows so much better with her in it.
Title: Cemetery Gates
Summary: The team are called onto a case in a small town on the border of Georgia and Florida. But they soon find out that not everything is what it seems; and it becomes a race against the clock to save two members of their team before it's too late. Implied Morgan/Reid (nothing graphic).
Genre: Crime/Drama
Rating: T for themes not suitable for young readers.
*Chapter 1: It's like a Rubik cube that can't be solved
"Four men and three women, all abducted in the last two weeks from a roadhouse in a small town on the border of Georgia and Florida," JJ said, images of the seven abductees shown on the screen. "All of different ethnic backgrounds; different heights and weights. Jonah Schmidt was a German backpacker; Elisabeth Smith was travelling through to Jacksonville with her husband and three children; Kingston Blaise was travelling to Miami with his friend Jason Lang; Xiaou Lee worked in the roadhouse; Lesley Harris came into town from a nearby farm for dinner; Charlie Jackson and Mike Thomas were together travelling to Washington DC." The team read this information from the case files in front of them, looking for connections that weren't there.
"And local authorities are certain it's the same unsub?" Morgan asked sceptically. There was different victimology; the only connection being the one roadhouse in a border town with a population of less than 500.
"Kidnappings like this in places along the borders are rare," Reid said, "the chance of this being more than one unsub is one in forty. One place, multiple victims; this is way above the national average for abductions like these over this period of time," he explained.
"Have any bodies been discovered in the town or around it?" Rossi asked. JJ shook her head.
"No, but Xiaou Lee's eight carat gold engagement ring was sold from a local second hand shop; Jonah Schmidt's platinum bracelet was found in the garbage outside the local pub and Charlie Jackson's and Mike Thomas's wallets were found in the bushes beside the roadhouse," she explained.
"So he's not financially motivated, he's still in the area and the victims might still be alive." Hotch said, "wheels up in twenty."
Emily Prentiss and David Rossi went to check out the roadhouse; Reid and Morgan went to the second hand shop and JJ and Hotch went to the police station.
"Hello, I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jereau and this is Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and we're from the Behavioural Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia," JJ smiled, shaking the ageing sheriff's hand. He smiled back at her, tight lipped. He was new to this department and already he was getting flak from the officers for calling in the FBI.
"Is this it?" he asked warmly. He didn't want to insult them. They were the only ones who could help. JJ shook her head.
"No, the rest of our team are at the crime scene and second hand shop to trying to get some information," she explained, "do you have a place we can set up?" she asked. The department was small, only four officers and a sheriff. There wasn't much space...at all.
"Yeah, we cleared out the store room," he showed them into a three by four room that had one window that pointed to sparse bushland. "It used to be a meeting room, but as the town got smaller, the meetings did too and then it just became storage space," the sheriff explained.
"Thank you," Hotch said, "we'll need all your case files and any information you've collected so far." The sheriff got one of the other officers, a woman in her late twenties, to get the files. There wasn't much...just a couple of files pieced together and a number of unsolved abductions in the past ten years from the same place. There weren't many – only four – because, as Reid had said, it wasn't common.
"Garcia," Hotch called the technical analyst.
"What can I do for you?" she asked quickly, wheeling over to her computer.
"Can you check out the data bases for any unidentified bodies that have shown up in places around Campton [I don't live in America...I'm making this up...I'm sorry =(] in the last two weeks?" he asked. He heard rapid clicking of fingers on keys.
"None, sir," she replied. Hotch pursed his lips.
"Thanks Garcia." He hung up. This was going to be a long one.
Rossi looked around the Roadhouse. It wasn't very busy, but he supposed that would change during the holiday seasons. It was surrounded by bushland in front and behind, by farmland to the west and the town to the north east. The road extended into the south and the west far into the distance.
"It certainly is isolated," Rossi said, turning back to the roadhouse. Local cars were parked in the parking spaces for employees. Cars from all over the state were parked in the guest parking and by the bowsers. There was even a truck or two. The shop front faced the interstate.
"Have the camera's shown anything?" he asked Prentiss. She shook her head.
"You can see the victims arriving, and then nothing. Our unsub managed to lure them away from the building and the camera's and their families. How did he do it?" Prentiss said frustrated. It was a victim every two days – they had less than 24 hours before he struck again.
"He certainly has a lot of room," Rossi murmured, "and those cameras only show the bowsers, the front counter and the restaurant. It's not going to show the rooms where Xiaou Lee stayed; the outside bathrooms; the parking spaces or across the road. This unsub has so much space to work." He thought out loud. Prentiss nodded.
"And he could go anywhere, but he stays here," she said.
"We don't know that yet," Rossi cautioned. She shook her head.
"All their vehicles were still where the victims left them; he must have his own," she started. "And it must be large enough, like a van, a truck or an SUV, to hide the victims."
"Providing he needs to hide them. If I have a gun pointed at me, or a knife, I'm going to be more than happy to do whatever someone tells me to."
"But what about the last two? He abducted them together. They were both healthy alpha males, they would have been able to overpower someone holding a gun to them." Prentiss said. Rossi thought about it for a moment.
"So he incapacitates them, hides them and takes them somewhere local. Jewellery and wallets, and other items are taken, but not sold. They're just thrown away, like trash."
"So he's not in it for the money, he's in it for the bodies."
"So has he killed them?" Prentiss asked. Rossi frowned.
"It's fairly easy to abduct these people from here; it's nearly risk free. He could be killing them and keeping the bodies...or he could be keeping them," he closed his eyes. "What's going on here?"
Fluorescent tubes lit the concrete building. There was a dripping drain pipe, water –drip, drip, drip- into a puddle next to a cage. The lights flickered occasionally, a low drone coming from them. Nothing could be heard except heavy breathing and occasional groans. The groans were soon silenced, footsteps coming and going; door opening, closing.
Creak. Footsteps. Slam.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Morgan and Reid walked into the second hand shop. There were toys, books, clothes, sheets and furniture cluttering the small space. It wasn't a big shop and there was only one other person in it aside from them and the attendant.
The attendant was a small, elderly woman with greying hair, wearing a hand knitted orange and brown cardigan, sitting on a stool at the counter. She was reading through a small novel, which she bookmarked when the two FBI agents walked in the door.
Morgan and Reid stood at the counter, Reid looking around the shop with interest. They showed her their badges.
"Hello, ma'am, I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan and this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're with the FBI and we'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind," Morgan said seriously. The old lady nodded.
"Okay," she said in a voice that had been afflicted by years of smoking, "ask away," she smiled.
"The ring you sold...who brought it in?" Morgan asked.
"No one, I found it on the doorstep when I came in on Sunday to sort out some donations that the school sent in." The old lady replied.
"Has there been anyone hanging around recently? More than usual?" Reid asked, brain storing all the information. The lady frowned and then shook her head.
"No. We've had more business and donations, the recession, you see, but that's all. No one's been hanging around."
"Have you fired anyone recently? Anyone who was unhappy with the place or who...was attached to it?" Reid asked.
"No. I've been here most of my life and worked here twenty years and no one like that has ever be-"
"There was someone," the woman who was looking at the books said.
"Who would that be ma'am?" Morgan asked. The woman stood beside them at the counter. She was in her forties, dyed red hair that showed light brown regrowth, dressed in worn out jeans and an old shirt. Her face showed the effects of sun damage and ageing.
"When I was little, about five, a man called Joseph Smith worked here. He was married to the woman who owned it, but she was ill most of the time and couldn't run it," the woman explained. "His wife died...oo, twenty years ago. He moved away and handed the shop to the council. He was very attached to it...but he hasn't been around these parts since he left, so I don't think he could be the person you're looking for." The woman explained. Morgan and Reid smiled politely.
"Thank you for your time," Morgan said and they left the shop.
"He leaves the bracelet in a bin, but goes to the trouble of leaving the ring at a second hand store. It was a dangerous move," Reid said, eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. "The shop must mean something to him."
"What about the pub? He left the wallets where he took the victims, why not the bracelet too?" Morgan asked. Reid leant against the black SUV, staring around the main street. That's all Campton was. One Business Street, a roadhouse, a caravan park, some residences scattered around the side streets and a small primary school. And the two main highways that lead way out of the town.
"If other jewellery or items showed up, do you think people would hand it in or advertise it?" Morgan asked sardonically. "We could have points of interest all over the town, which isn't that big; just vanish because people won't admit to pocketing lost items." He sighed. "Perfect."
"Have Garcia check out Joseph Smith...it has to be worth a try." Morgan dialled Garcia, but they were both equally sceptic of the outcome.
"You have reached the temple of knowledge," Garcia's voice rang out over the phone. Morgan could see her smile. Her happiness was infectious, so he smiled too. He didn't get many chances to do that.
"Can you run a name for me baby girl?" Morgan asked. Garcia laughed.
"And here I thought you had something harder for me," he gave her the name and she typed away. Morgan waited.
"Joseph Smith, born 8th July 1953. Mother was a factory worker, father served in the military until he was killed by an anti-war protestor in 1971. He grew up in Campton; married a local farmer's daughter Bethany James, in 1969. They had two sons and a daughter..." her voice trailed off, "their daughter died in 1976 from pneumonia and their youngest son was arrested in 1998 for the abduction and rape of five women in the 90's. Their eldest son lives in Albany, a tax accountant; married with three children. She died in 1979 and Mr. Smith died in 2003 in a road accident...just outside of Campton." She explained. Morgan nodded.
"Thanks baby girl." He smiled, hanging up.
"So they're all dead ends," Morgan sighed. Reid was busy looking around.
"It's a small place, everywhere is important to someone...we just need to find out who."
Hotch and JJ had so far made little progress.
"So he's staying in the area, which means he's probably a local," Hotch said tiredly, rubbing his eyes and taking a drink of the incredibly bad coffee. "And he needs a place to hide bodies; dead or alive; so it has to be somewhere big. He's not financially motivated, so he must be well off. It must be somewhere isolated-"
"Which pretty much explains everywhere in Campton." JJ interjected. Reid and Morgan came into the room, followed a few minutes later by Prentiss and Rossi.
"What have you found out?" Hotch asked. The four agents sat down, sighing tiredly.
"Nothing." They all answered simultaneously and laughed bitterly at the irony of it all.
"The second hand shop must be important to him...he wouldn't have dropped the ring there if it wasn't," Reid averred.
"He could be unemployed or self employed if he has enough time to abduct every second day and be able to keep his victims," Prentiss added.
"He'll have a lot of space where he can keep them," Hotch contributed. "Privacy."
"There are a lot of farms in the place, and farmers tend to be isolated," Morgan stated.
"And losing the farm, or problems with it, could be a stressor," Prentiss supplied.
"He's not new at this, he would have done it before," Rossi said. Hotch looked over the files they had.
"There have been four in the past ten years; unsolved, no bodies."
"If he has an animal farm he could have disposed of the bodies that way."
"I'll have Garcia check for farmers in the area, who have recently suffered a loss; paying attention to those with animal farms and have a history with the pub and the second hand shop," Hotch explained, taking out his phone. "It's late; we should head to the caravan park – sleep. Maybe things will look clearer in the morning."
The team stood up and headed out. They could have walked from where they were.
*TBC