A/N: I don't own any of Criminal Minds characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.
This story takes place somewhere early in season thirteen, a few episodes in, sometime in October. Spencer is trying to adjust to normal life after his stay in prison, while he and the other are still recovering from the loss of Stephen Walker. (Since Damon Gupton is leaving the show, it is very likely that it will be revealed that Stephen Walker died in a car crash featured in season twelve finale.) A new team member that is supposed to be featured in season thirteen, Matt Simmons, is featured in this story, but not heavily. I know that the cliffhanger probably took place way prior to October, but if it isn't stated directly, it can be assumed it took place later, in August or September, for example. I know that Penelope is usually the one presenting the cases, but personally, I prefer when the unit chief is doing it.
I hope that the new season will address Spencer's prison experience, his struggle, and feature more actual profiling. If only I could become a writer for the show...
Cast
Daniel Henney as Matthew "Matt" Simmons
Heather Morris as Jennifer Heffernan
Page Kennedy as detective John Caal
Beth Behrs as officer Aubrey Bellick
Emmy Clarke as M.E.#1
Daniel Manche as M.E.#2
Joel David Moore as Jack Teeger
Maite Schwartz as Kendra Barlow
Tiffany Hines as Sheila Johnson
Wallace Little as Carl Taylor
Michael Cerveris as Jake Adams
Frank Whaley as Brian Keller
Jamie Anne Allman as Mandy Dacey
LeToya Luckett as Tracy Tanner
Courtney Thorne-Smith as Christine Hodgins
Jim Parsons as Chris Benes
Conor Leslie as Lyndsay Benes
Susie Essman as Stephanie Smith
Monet Mazur as Brittany Smith
Spencer shuddered as he saw two prisoners, short bulky man and a large dark-haired man, walk into his cell, eying him suspiciously.
"What's up, snitch?" the shorter one asked. Spencer felt a shiver go down his spine. Before he could even think of what to say, the prisoner continued. "Was that your girlfriend?"
"She's my friend," Spencer answered, trying to appear calm.
"You never got any?" The large man spat out. He walked over to Spencer. "What's wrong with you, man?" He groaned, grabbing Spencer by his jumpsuit and pulling him off the bunk. He pinned him against the near by wall, while the shorter prisoner followed, pulling a towel over Spencer's mouth in order to muffle his screams.
Spencer felt a panic take him over, his heart beating so fast that his chest hurt. The stronger prisoner started punching him in the stomach. The third prisoner was just in the hallway, near the cell, mopping the floor; he glanced at them, but didn't do anything. Spencer screamed against the towel, feeling a pain rip through his muscles, his lungs fighting for air. He was writhing desperately, trying to break free, but he couldn't.
They drag him to the other end of the cell and pinned him on the bunk, as the third prisoner, the one outside the cell, just watched. The bigger prisoner grinned at Spencer, menacingly...
Spencer jolted awake in his bed, gasping for breath, his face and hair covered with sweat, his heart thundering against his chest. It took him several seconds to figure out where he was. He sighed in relief and rubbed his eyes, realizing that he was in his apartment, in his bedroom. Alone. Bright sunbeams shone over his face. He took a deep breath, feeling a chilly autumn air wash over him. He had been keeping his bedroom door open as of lately. It made him feel more... comfortable.
He slid his hands off his face, and glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. Five am. He woke up an hour early. Well, at least he managed to get some sleep last night...
Luckily, he didn't have the time to think about his dream. A minute after he woke up, his ringtone went off. He picked up the phone from his bedside table and read the text.
From: Emily
We've got a case. It's urgent. Be at headquarters first thing this morning. Are you doing OK?"
Spencer sighed, crawled out of the bed, and headed to the bathroom. He didn't plan on having a breakfast before going to work; just coffee. He felt nauseated. He also decided not to text back.
#
By eight am, all team members were sitting in the round table room, around the table, studying the case files on their tablets. Spencer, finishing his third cup of coffee, also used a tablet, rather than a paper file. "Life's too short", he said to Garcia, about a week ago. She hugged him and quickly gave him that strangely complicated gadget. And a stuffed unicorn. The unit chief, Emily Prentiss, was standing next to the screen on the wall, a remote in her hand.
"Three days ago, three dead bodies were found on a deserted field in Auburn Hills, Detroit, Michigan, near the local forest," Emily exclaimed, as two crime scene photographs appeared on the screen. "The field was scheduled to be turned into a jogging path. Construction workers arrived there two days ago, early morning, along with several local reporters, and found the victims. Two men and one woman. They had all been stabbed repeatedly, over the chest and abdomen, and strangled with a ligature. No clothing, IDs or personal items found on the scene, or near by. They were all identified via fingerprints."
She clicked at the remote again, and three more photographs appeared on the screen, featuring those three victims, from the time they had still been alive; three mugshots, actually. The first one featured a young, Caucasian, brown haired man, the second one featured a middle aged African American man, while the third one featured a pale, blonde woman in her thirties. "Victim number one, to the left", Emily explained, glancing at the screen. "Twenty eight years old Chuck Winters. His fingerprints were in AFIS due to a conviction for vandalism back in 2012, and a conviction for burglary back in 2015," Emily explained. "Lived in Auburn Hills, alone, worked as an IT technician. Victim number two, Shermain Jones, forty two. In and out of prison for the most of his adult life. Multiple convictions for possession of narcotics, assault and pimping. And, lastly, Sharona Jenkins, thirty four. No last known address. Hasn't paid taxes over the last five years. Multiple arrests for solicitation."
"All three victims showed signs of torture," David read. "Bruises all over their bodies, multiple fractures, non-fatal lacerations over their arms and legs. The first victim also had his face and genitals mutilated, and his hands burned. Prior to his death, according to the M.E. report."
"All three victims also had taser burns on their right shoulder," Spencer read. "That must how the unsub subdued them."
"No blood or signs of a struggle found on the crime scene," Luke read. "Must be a secondary one. A dump site."
"Sharona Jenkins also had her right hand cut off, post mortem," Matt Simmons read.
"Yes... local news agency received it in their mail this morning," Emily said, cringing. She clicked at the remote, and a photograph of a severed hand, inside an envelope, appeared on the screen. "No return address, no fingerprints. On the envelope, I mean."
"This guy has really lost it," David muttered.
Spencer shifted in his seat, rubbing his eyes. He hoped nobody would notice the black marks under them. "The unsub could have a religious motivation for that"," he suggested. "Matthew 5:30. "And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away." It may also be symbolic. Meant to represent stealing, or some other crime the victim might had committed."
"Judging by the lividity, Chuck Winters had been dead for about a month before his body was found," Luke read. "Sherman Jones had been dead for about two weeks. Sharona Jenkins had been dead for about a week."
"Autopsy reports indicate that all three victims were raped, repatedly," JJ read, frowning. "Two men and a woman. That is unusual."
"The unsub could be bisexual," Spencer suggested. "Or a sexual sadist who derives extreme pleasure from torturing, raping and murdering other people, men and women. There have been serial killers like that. Joseph Vacher, The Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run, Charles Ray Hatcher, Andrei Chikatilo... Also, rape is mainly about control and power, especially in extremely brutal attacks like this. Sometimes, victim's gender simply doesn't matter."
David frowned. "But still, it's not just different genders. The victims seem to have pretty much nothing in common. Different ethnicities, height, build, hair and eye color, age, socioeconomic background, neighborhoods..." He sighed, looking over the documents on his tablet once again. "Sure, they all had a criminal record, but even that isn't much of a connection. Chuck had a small rap sheet for vandalism and burglary, but he otherwise seemed like an ordinary man. And though Shermain had a criminal record for possession of narcotics and pimping, and Sharona was a prostitute, there is no evidence that they knew each other."
"Well, it's still pretty early in the investigation," Tara pointed out. "Maybe something will turn up."
"Since all three victims had a criminal record, the unsub may be a moral vigilante," Matt Simmons suggested.
"Most of the vigilantes dump the victims on public locations, or simply leave them where they killed them," Luke pointed out. "They want to send a message."
"The bodies were found," Matt argued. "Many locals must have known about the plan to set up a jogging path on that field. The unsub could have timed the body disposal and the subsequent discovery of the bodies easily. And the unsub mailed the third victim's hand to the local news agency."
Tara frowned. "But still, the first victim was murdered a month ago. And this level of torture and sexual violence isn't very common among serial vigilantes. That is more along the lines of a sexual sadist, an opportunistic sexual predator. And the unsub seems to be working backwards. From a low-risk victim to high-risk victims."
"So, why is he killing these victims?" JJ asked out loud. "And how does he find them?"
"And why did he start with the low-risk victim, then moved on to the high-risk victims?" Spencer wondered.
"And that, sadly, is not all," Emily informed them, a sad look on her face. She clicked at the remote again, and a photograph of a young brown haired girl appeared on the screen. "On August 2nd, eight years old Heather Jensen went missing from 5 Points Drive," she explained, turning to face the tean again. "She was last seen playing on a playground near her home, alone. Five days later, her dead body was found in a dumpster on the other end of the city. She had been beaten, raped, and strangled to death."
After a short pause, Emily continued. This time, a photograph of a young, blonde-haired boy appeared on the screen. "On September 5th, in Almee Lane, ten years old Harry Eggers went missing while walking home from school. His body was found in the dumpster four days later, about twenty miles away." The crime scene photograph was next; not much different from a previous one. "Also beaten, raped and strangled to death. No new murders for the next month, but four days ago, on October 10th, also in Aimee Lane, nine years old Jane Daniels went missing from her bedroom at night. Her body still hasn't been found. Local police was about to call us in, and the next day, those three aforementioned, adult victims, were found in that field."
"And they only called us in after three days?" JJ exclaimed.
Emily sighed. "They had hands full dealing with all the media frenzy, and they needed the M.E. to confirm that the three recently discovered victims were all murdered the same way."
"Hardly the work of the same unsub," Spencer concluded, not looking up from his tablet. "Victim type, M.O. and disposal sights are too different."
"So, we have two different unsubs, active in the same city, in close neighborhoods, at the same time. One targeting random adult victims, the other targeting prepubescent Caucasian children of both genders," Matt concluded.
David sighed. "Great."
"As of 2015, Detroit is the city with the second highest murder rate in the USA, 43.4 murders per 100 000 residents, so this isn't that surprising," Spencer commented. "Though, to be fair, most of those killings are gang related. None of these murders seem to fit the bill." He frowned, shifting in his seat. "This is kind of like the case that we had in St. Louis, over a decade ago," he noted. ""The Hollow Man" and "The Mill Creek Killer"".
Emily nodded her head. "We caught those two back in 2007. Now, let's get these guys." She put the remote down on the table, picked up her bag and a tablet, and looked at her team, a determined look on her face. "Wheels up in twenty."
Everyone stood up and headed for the door, deep in their thoughts.
#
A bruised, naked blonde woman was lying down on the basement floor, which was covered with protective plastic. Her eyes were closed, her wrists tied tightly behind her back. She didn't even register the basement door opening. A younger, brown-haired woman walked over to the victim slowly, latex gloves over her hands, apron pulled over her clothes, a bottle of cold water in her hand. She stopped mere inches away from the abused woman, a smirk appearing on her lips, before spiling cold water over the blonde's bruised face and back.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty...," the younger woman mused. The victim flinched, opening her eyes for a moment, but she remained lying on the floor. The younger woman's facial expression turned dark, and she threw the bottle away before kicking her captive in the ribs. "Get up!," she screamed.
The victim stirred and let out a sob, but eventually straightened herself up, sitting up on the floor. By that point, she was also greeted by a tall Caucasian man, dressed the same way as the woman. He was holding a ceramic knife in his hand. He smirked, observing the tortured victim with delight. "Awww... look who's up", he said mockingly. He walked over and ran the blade down the victim's forearm. Red blood slid down the bruised skin. A tortured scream of agony was heard.
"Why are you doing this?" the tortured woman asked, sobbing.
The man smirked. "Why are you a filthy whore?" he asked, every word dripping with rage. His victim started sobbing, her body writhing due to fear and pain. The unsub punched her in the face, making her colapse on the floor again. The female unsub chuckled, then licked her lips, before taking an apron string in her hands. The male unsub just snickered, tightening his fingers around the knife handle. "Cry-baby."
The brunette walked over to the victim and stroked her hair. "It will all be over soon...," she whispered, before walking over behind the victim and tying the apron string around her neck. The victim let out a terrified gasp, her eyes meeting the male unsub's, who smirked.
"It will be," he said, walking over to her. "But not immediately, of course," he said, before leaning over and plunging the blade into her chest.
~OPENING ROLES AND CREDITS~