Chapter 2
The jet was mostly quiet, two or three conversations sequestered in their groups of chairs and couches. Hotch stood, refilled his coffee, and gathered the team around the main table. "Let's get started. Our latest victim was a wealthy businessman, Peter Messer. He was found on the side of a suburban road by a driver on his morning commute. It is the same MO as all the other victims, a stab directly through the sternum." Cailyn, who was the only one of the group not leaning in to look at the pictures, looked slightly nauseous.
"Is this really what you guys work with every day?" Her face was screwed into a deep frown, her brow crunched as if struggling to understand exactly what was going on.
Hotch didn't smile. "Unfortunately, yes. You don't have to observe this part if you don't wish to, but often it helps to know exactly what you're dealing with when you interview victims."
"I'll stay, then." She found a new resilience, and steeled herself to look at the pictures in front of her, pieces in a puzzle she didn't want to put together.
Hotch continued. "There is an anomaly in the fourth victim. Messer showed signs of being beaten. There is severe bruising on his abdomen and face, but there are defensive wounds on his hands and lower arms."
"That's odd." Morgan cut in. "What was time of death? Could this man have been the unsub's trigger? A beating's personal. Sure, the unsub is stabbing them face to face, but something changed. JJ, is there any connection between the victims?"
"Hold on, I'll get Garcia up."
Garcia's face popped up on the small computer screen, and her chipper voice soon followed. "What can I do for you, Jayje?"
"Garcia, could you find any relationships between the victims?"
"Nothing! Different social groups, completely different neighborhoods, different jobs…I'll keep looking, but they're pretty much random as far as I can see."
"Thanks Garcia." Morgan pulled a picture out of the file, a shot of the first victim at the crime scene. A puddle of blood had pooled around the body, staining the man's shirt an indelible maroon. "Our unsub is obviously powerful to be able to stab with enough force and velocity to crack the sternum in one blow. We're probably looking for a dedicated athlete."
"Or someone from the military," Blake interjected. "The anger present in his attacks could come from some sort of PTSD, but he also shows complete control and cognizance of his actions. There is only one wound to each victim, not signs of hesitation."
Hotch spoke again. "We can't rule anything out right now. Once we land, Reid, you can start a geographical profile at the station. JJ, Blake, and I will come with you and talk to the officer in charge. Rossi, you, Morgan, and Ms. Hart will go to the last victim's brother's house. He is Messer's only surviving relative, but has not yet been notified of his brother's death."
Morgan grimaced. "So we have to tell him?" Hotch nodded, and looked down at the files in his lap. "The local authorities have been overloaded with the amount of evidence and the media pressure, so they need our help on this one, and I thought it would be a good opportunity for Ms. Hart to observe." Hart nodded once, acknowledging his words, but returned to gazing somewhat dejectedly out the window.
Reid sat down gingerly in the seat next to her, and caught her attention. "Cailyn, are you sure you're okay doing this?"
She looked up, surprised. "I'm trained in doing this Spencer, I'll be fine."
"There's a difference between the classroom and the field. You never know what reactions you need to be prepared for." His probing eyes searched into hers for any sign of weakness, and finding none, he relaxed. "So what classes do you have left to finish your semester?" She smiled, and launched into a description of her dissertation that she had been working on, pulling Reid in further with every word.
Lost in their conversation, the two young people did not notice Morgan's keen eyes following them. Rossi looked up from the magazine that he was thumbing through and smirked. "They've been writing letters to each other for a while now."
Morgan smiled. "A budding romance?"
"I don't think so…more of an intellectual curiosity. She's very smart."
"A genius?"
"Not at Reid's level, but she's amassing quite a lot of attention in her field. Last year, one of her studies was published in the APA yearly journal. She talked to Reid about some of the content, I'm not entirely sure what."
"Well, she's not exactly bad looking. She's smart. She's funny. Maybe I should try to build this 'curiosity' into something more…" Morgan leaned back, his eyes dancing with playfulness.
"Believe me, I've already thought of matchmaking. But if they're not together by now, I don't know what else we can do."
"Exactly how long have they known each other?"
"Hmm…a year and a half? Maybe more, I'm not certain."
"How do you know her?"
"Like she said, Reid and I lectured up at the University of Minnesota a couple of years ago. In the middle of winter too-It was freezing!"
"Hey man, I grew up in Chicago. Don't you tell me about freezing!" They laughed, and began swapping stories of their winter weather experiences.
Soon, a voice crackled over the PA to announce the preparation for landing, and the team settled into their seats again and gathered their things, ready to hit the ground running when the jet landed.
