ACTS OF GOD AND MEN
Chapter 1
Profiles
"Fanatics in power and the funnel of a tornado have this in common - the narrow path in which they move is marked by violence and destruction" - Oscar Ostlund
They sat around the table and looked at the awful images that JJ was showing them. Two men and a woman, tortured and killed, each in totally different ways.
"They hadn't connected the murders until the Tornado hit three days ago. Then this was uncovered.
Another picture was brought onto the screen. This was what looked like a basement, now open to the sky. Lying on the floor were the bodies. It wasn't possible to tell how many there were. They were in a pile against the wall, as if thrown there down the steps.
"So if the tornado hadn't flattened the building, they wouldn't have found the bodies." said Reid.
"Possibly. At least, not yet." JJ continued.
"And the three victims they already had would not be connected." said Hotch.
"So how have they connected the three with the bodies in the cellar?" Morgan asked.
"There are six bodies, like the others, tortured, raped and killed in different ways. Three men and three women. Ages between forty and forty five. We have been asked for help. The local force is a bit overwhelmed with the tornado. There's a lot of looting, and keeping law and order is taking up all their resources."
"Ok, we'll discuss it further on the plane. Wheels up in twenty." Hotch was on his feet already.
-0-0-0-
Broken Bow was a small town of about 4000 people in central Nebraska, surrounded by forest and hills. But the community had been devastated by the tornado. There had been no press release about the serial killer. The PD had decided that they had enough to think about with rebuilding their town. When they arrived, Aaron asked to go to what was left of the crime scene. Rossi, Morgan and Reid stayed to work on Victimology and a geographic profile. JJ liaised with the police and set up a room for them to use. Emily went with Hotch.
There was not a lot left of the crime scene remaining. The storm had removed the building above, and any evidence was long gone. Hotch stood at the edge of the basement pit and looked down. The bodies had been removed, and all they could now see was the debris left by the storm. While Emily sifted through the surface remains of the clapboard single storey house, Hotch climbed down into the basement to take a closer look at where the bodies had been lying.
The police had drawn around the bodies after photographing and before removing them to the morgue. But there really wasn't anything to see.
He climbed back out, and he and Emily drove back to the make shift police station. One of the few buildings to escape being flattened was the school, and this was where the police had set up.
It wasn't possible to build up a full geographic profile, as three of the victims had yet to be identified, but all those who had been were from Broken Bow or nearby communities. They had in common their ages, the youngest being a woman of forty one, the oldest a man of forty six, so far. They had looks in common; dark hair, athletic and healthy. But so far, they had found nothing else to connect them. They had been taken on different days, between ten and eleven in the evening, and it seemed as if they had been followed home after a night out.
The profile was scanty. A white male, unemployed or working part time or shifts, as time was needed to carry out the crimes. Intelligent, organised, and a loner. Only three of the victims had been buried, and according to the pathologist, they had died first. So he was cautious, not wanting to draw attention to his crimes. So the UnSub was killing for a reason other than recognition.
There was a strong sexual element in the crimes. The women had been raped, and the men assaulted with an object. There had been no contact with the media, but likely there had been a lot of contact with the victims.
He would likely insert himself into the investigation, if he hadn't already. It was something they would have to watch for, now that the crimes were connected.
"Now the victims have been found, there will be another kidnapping and murder." Rossi said. "He needs to visit the corpses for his own pleasure, and now he can't. There will definitely be more."
"Unless there already has been another." Reid said.
Morgan said, "The storm could trigger an escalation. These killings were about a month apart at first, then became closer together, until the last two were a week apart."
Hotch sent the others to the hotel to secure the rooms, and get a few hours sleep, while he went over the victim profiles again.
He could see nothing more connecting them. He laid out the pictures next to each other on the table. Five men and four women. Dark hair, early forties. Very alike, but none related. Some married, some not, Some with children, some without.
He called Garcia and sent her what they had on the victims so far.
"See if you can come up with anything else connecting them. There must be more than we've got so far."
"Sure will, Boss." she answered. "I'll get back to you as soon as I have found anything."
Hotch sighed and cut the connection. His right leg was sending sharp pains up his leg into his groin, and his shoulders ached. He wondered if he would always get these pains as an aftermath of his ordeal in the hands of the Masefield twins. It had been four months now, and he still had nightmares about it. He had spoken to Reid about them, and he had been supportive, but when it came down to it, it was something he had to cope with alone. Only he walked the path of his dreams, and when he slept, he was alone.
He gathered up the photos into the folder, and put them in the filing cabinet that they had been provided with, and limped painfully to the door. He ought to get back to the hotel. He had booked a room to himself, not wanting Morgan or Reid to put up with his thrashing and crying that accompanied his sleep.
He felt an urge to call Jack and tell him he loved him. He was staying with Uncle Sean for a few days. He checked the time. Eleven thirty. Too late to call.
Again.
How many times had this happened with Haley? And now she was gone.
He made a promise to himself to call Jack in the morning, and he set a reminder on his phone.
-0-0-0-
The others had taken the SUV's, so he had to walk to the hotel, just outside the centre of town. He limped out of the station, trying to put his weight on his left leg. He wondered if he really was ready to come back to work. He couldn't allow his disability to put his team in danger. He walked down the steps of the school, wincing as the pain as the pain shot through him again. He attempted to walk upright, to ignore it.
He felt a hand on his elbow. "Are you alright, Agent Hotchner?"
Hotch smiled at the cop. They had met briefly earlier when they were delivering the profile – such as it was.
"I'm fine. I broke my leg a few weeks back and it plays up when I'm tired."
"Where're you staying?" he said. "I can walk with you. I'd like to hear about how you profiled our killer."
As they walked together through the empty debris strewn streets, Hotch could only think about a hot bath to alleviate the pain, and a couple of hours in bed, (maybe even have some sleep) before starting with the victim profile in earnest in the morning.
"So," said the cop. "White male. Why?"
Aaron stopped and leaned against the wall and lifted his right foot off the ground. He sighed with relief, wishing he had hired a taxi. He didn't realise it was this far.
So...why a white male?...
Aaron closed his eyes, trying to think past the pain. The cop reached forward and caught hold of Aaron's hair, pulled his head forwards, and cracked it back against the wall. Aaron's eyes widened in shock, lifting his weakened arms to try and get the man's fingers out of his hair, but before he could do anything, the cop had hit his head on the wall again.
This time, Hotch felt the skin break, and warm blood trickled down onto his shirt collar. Ignoring the hand in his hair, he went for his gun, but his movements were slow and painful, and the cop got there first, putting it in his own pocket. Twisting his hand, he forced Aaron down onto his knees. Hotch cried out for help, and the cop kneed him in the face. He was dazed, and as the cop released his hair he fell onto his hands and knees, trying to focus. He made an attempt to get up, but the cop kicked him savagely in the groin from behind, and Aaron yelped, falling forwards onto his bleeding face, gasping for breath. His eyes were watering, and he was shaking with the knowledge that he had been walking with an UnSub who had so far tortured and killed nine people.
Through a mist of pain, he heard a car pull up beside them. He felt a grip on his ankle, and his second gun being removed. Unable to react, he was dragged to the back of the car, picked up and dropped into the boot of the car. He lay still, not able to move or protect himself. Someone hit him and darkness engulfed him