*So, basically overnight, I decided to turn this story into Part 1 of a 3 part series, which will probably have a few companion pieces here and there. I'm a little nervous about starting this because I've never attempted a writing project this big before and succeeded. Also, I haven't written all that much for Criminal Minds, so I'm hoping that I can capture the characters accurately. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!


City Morgue, Boston, MA

The question Elle gets asked most about her job is if seeing dead bodies ever gets easier.

Her professional opinion? It doesn't

The coroner leads her to Emma Portman's body, shakes his head sadly. "I never imagined I'd see anything like this, and now she's the second one in less than two months that I've had to…" He trails off momentarily, clears his throat. "Sorry."

Elle shrugs it off, checks her file. "You performed Kerri Henning's autopsy as well?" she asks.

He nods. "I noticed the similarities almost immediately. A body like this?" He shudders. "It's not something you forget."

"Did you find any signs of sexual assault on either victim?" she asks.

"Surprisingly, no," he tells her.

She nods, writes it down. "And cause of death?"

"Ligature strangulation." He beckons her closer to the body. "See the pattern of the bruising around her neck?"

Elle examines the marks. "Looks like rope?"

"That was my theory," he says. "But do you see how the bruises cross, right here in the front?"

She nods. "It looks like her killer stood facing her, one end of the rope in each hand and pulled."

"Does that mean something to you?" the coroner asks.

Elle nods grimly. "It wasn't enough for him to kill her. He wanted to watch the life leave her eyes."


FBI Headquarters, Quantico, VA

Penelope is certain that she's dying of boredom by the time her phone finally rings again. She doesn't even check the caller id, just snatches the phone from the cradle.

"You guys can't keep leaving me alone for that long," she laments, not caring who's on the other line. "It's not nice."

Elle laughs. "Pen, you're always alone when we're on a case. You've never complained about it before."

"You know what I mean, smartypants" she retorts. "When you go so long between phone calls, I get lonely. I feel like you're forgetting me."

"Trust me, Garcia, no one could ever forget you," Elle says. "Now, get those magic fingers ready; I've got some info that should help narrow down the potential victim search."

"Oh thank God," Garcia says, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Ready and waiting, what've you got?"

"Flag any cases where cause of death was strangulation," she starts.

Garcia nods. "Manual or ligature?" she asks.

"Our guy has been using rope, but look into both," she says. "The rope might be part of his evolution. Also, rule out cases involving sexual assault. None of our known victims have shown any signs of sexual assault, and that's not something that you suddenly stop doing."

"Got it," Garcia says, already narrowing her search parameters. "Anything else, my lovely?"

"Just that for now," Elle tells her. "You have any potentials yet?"

"You'll know when I do," she says. "Over and out."

Elle's call must give her the magic she needed, because it's less than an hour before something promising pops up on her screen. "Jinkies," she mutters, reading through the file. "Garcy, I think you've done it."


Emma Portman's Apartment, Boston, MA

The dump site had been nothing special; an alley between a dry cleaners and a condemned apartment building. Easy to access with a vehicle, deserted at night, with no security cameras in sight. A location of convenience, probably scoped out in advance, but inconspicuously so as to avoid suspicion.

Emma Portman's apartment building is the complete opposite. As they pull up to the curb, Rossi notices at least three neighbors with large dogs. The building itself boasts an expensive security system, and the high end club down the street ensures that the area would be well-lit at night.

"Hard to believe that someone could snatch Emma from a place like this with no one noticing," Morgan comments, voicing Rossi's thoughts out loud.

He merely shrugs. "Stranger things have happened though, haven't they?"

"Too true, man."

Prentiss had sent word that Detective Hartman had beat them there, so they flash their badges to the doorman and head up to Emma's third floor apartment. They find the detective staring out of the living room window, his back to the door.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, startling the man. He whirls around, his hand going to the gun holstered at his side. He relaxes when they hold up their badges, lets out a loud sigh.

"Sorry 'bout that," he says. "Guess my nerves are a little on edge lately."

"No harm, no foul," Morgan says. "I'm Derek Morgan, this is Dave Rossi."

"With the BAU, yeah," Hartman says, stepping forward to shake their hands. "Prentiss said you guys are the best, but honestly, I don't know what you can find out about Emma's killer from this place that CSU hasn't already found."

Rossi starts walking the scene, pulling on gloves as he goes. "Profiling is less about physical evidence than it is simply studying behavior. Now, the apartment hasn't been altered in any way, has it?"

Hartman shakes his head. "Aside from CSU doing their thing, we're the only ones that have been in here since Emma was abducted."

"And you were the one that first discovered she was missing, correct?" Morgan asks from where he's examining the bookshelf.

"Yes, sir," Hartman says, nodding. "I've been a friend of the family for a few years now, and the Senator asked me to come check on Emma when he hadn't heard from her in a few days."

Rossi and Morgan exchange a look. "Were you aware of anyone new in Emma's life?" Rossi asks. "Anyone that could have possibly done this to her?"

Hartman's eyes widen. "You think that Emma might have known her killer?"

"It's a possibility that we'll be looking into," Morgan says. "I look around this apartment, and I see no sign of a struggle, no signs of forced entry, which tells me that Emma knew, or at least trusted, her abductor."

"Not to mention, the trouble this guy went to to keep from standing out in this neighborhood," Rossi adds. "He could be afraid of being recognized by one of Emma's neighbors."

Detective Hartman nods. "There was this new guy she'd been seeing for a few months," he says. "Patrick O'Connell. He's second generation Irish; runs with a pretty rough crowd. I never trusted him, but Emma swore he was a good guy."

"Boston's known for its heavy Irish mafia presence," Morgan observes. "Is O'Connell connected to one of the crime families?"

Hartman sighs. "Not that I've been able to find, and trust me, I looked hard." He looks away. "But I guess I didn't look hard enough."

"You buy Hartman's story?" Morgan asks as they pull away from Emma's apartment building.

Rossi shrugs. "I'm having trouble believing that someone who is so close to the Portman family wouldn't be able to handle the politics of this case."

"I thought the same thing," Morgan says. "And he was pretty quick to steer us towards the Irish mafia. Personal vendetta you think?"

"It's possible," Rossi says. "None of this reads like organized crime, but it's still an angle we should pursue. If the boyfriend got involved with the wrong people, Emma's murder could have been revenge or a way to send a message."

Morgan shakes his head. "But that doesn't explain the other victims," he notes. "Five other murders, and almost a full year of set-up? That's a hell of a lot of trouble to go to just to cover up a revenge killing."

"I don't disagree," he says. "But one thing's for certain; we need to find Patrick O'Connell."