BAU Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia
7:05AM
JJ wasn't entirely sure she was happy about will giving her number to old buddies of his, but then again this was a bizarre case. With potentially ten victims and no leads at all, the New Orleans Police Department could use all the help it could get. She just wasn't sure they had much of a case. No real body, no original crime scene, only one identified victim, and the only DNA available was useless.
"This is all that remains of Rebecca Crowley, age 20, resident of California," JJ said once everyone was assembled, excluding tech analyst Penelope Garcia. She'd already given her data so she wouldn't have to see the pictures.
With a click, the photo appeared of a mound of skin that had been removed in flakes and strips, except for a grotesque rendition of the death mask. The person had pulled the skin of the face off in its entirety, scalp included, like a Halloween mask.
"How did they ID her?" Hotch asked. "It says no one else has been identified."
"Her mother identified the face they made out of her leftover skin," she answered.
"No one knows the girls are missing until the skin shows up," Reid said, looking through the case file. "There are no suspects and they can't even be sure the unsub even kills in New Orleans, he could just dump there."
"Do they want us to visit every perish looking for him?" Prentiss asked incredulously.
JJ just shrugged helplessly and looked at Hotch, who was scowling. "Hotch…ten women are already dead!"
"Alright, we'll go. Perhaps Garcia will be able to help us. An artist rendering of any facial flesh might help, too. And Garcia can narrow the list of missing women."
"These probably aren't locals, or even Louisiana residents," Morgan agreed. "The only one identified wasn't."
"Does the unsub know that? Is he purposely looking for girls that are tourists?" Reid wondered, frowning in thought.
His mind was full of facts and observations, but he did not like knowing so little. It was like in high school; although he knew so much, socially he knew nothing at all. It did him little good then, now it might get some innocent girls killed.
"He probably does. He's smart enough to kill ten girls with only one identification," Rossi answered.
They fell silent in thought, while JJ waited quietly. She glanced mostly between Hotchner and Rossi, knowing that although Hotch was the section chief, and would make the decisions, Rossi might be the one who hinted what they were going to do first. She hoped they took the case. As a mother now herself, she couldn't imagine having no idea if her son was dead or alive. Yet nine mothers were wondering that very question.
"Wheels lift in an hour," Hotchner finally said. "Morgan, go talk to Garcia."
Morgan nodded, walking out of the conference room. He was happy to, because he knew their tech analyst would need some attention to keep her mind off the grizzly photos.
"Hey, baby girl," he said lightly as he walked into the room that was every computer geek's heaven.
Wall to wall, every surface was covered in monitors. The desktops all had keyboards on them. Morgan shook his head, relieved not to be cooped up in the dark room all day, every day. He did not envy Garcia's job at all.
The chubby blonde swirled in her chair and smiled.
"Hello, tall, dark, and drop dead gorgeous," she teased with a happy smile. "How may I help you?"
Morgan smiled. "You can find the identities of those girls, for one. We should be having a sculptor coming, but can you narrow down the missing girls? Any way possible?"
Garcia's eyebrows lifted. "Do you know how many are reported missing?"
"Reid could give you the right stats," Morgan grumbled. "Still, you could work a little magic. Narrow it so the victims resemble the one girl they've managed to ID. You know, things like that. Nine families still don't know whether their child is alive or dead."
That sobered her and the amusement faded from her face. "Yeah, I'll try my hardest. We'll get them home safe."
Bayou Petit Caillou, Louisiana
8:24AM
The music was insulated by the barn. Not that anyone could hear anything way out in the bayou. The heat was already becoming oppressive. No birds bothered to sing.
Ambroise glanced in on his still slumbering sister who had driven the whole way back from New Orleans the night before. He would have done it if he could, but there was no way he could have passed any tests to get the permit, let alone the license. He was too damn stupid!
"Amb…is that you?"
Stepping back, he smiled sheepishly at his sister. "Uh, yes'm."
"What time is it?"
"'Bout 8:30," he said, fidgeting.
Milou stretched a little and slid out of bed. All she was wearing was a small t-shirt and panties. Ambroise blushed faintly, but only averted his eyes when she peeled off the shirt and turned towards her closet. He peeked at her back, though, only to feel the familiar pang of sorrow and fury.
The scars from the burns and subsequent skin grafts were still puckered and red, despite a couple years. He knew that her doctor recommended special lotions that his sister used faithfully. She treated her flawed, new skin obsessively well. She took care of him and the house just as carefully, always triple-checking gas and outlets, unplugging everything. She did not allow candles, except small ones on his birthday cakes. He was alright with that, because the scents made his head hurt.
"How are da pets doin'?" Milou asked, glancing over at him as she pulled on a pair of jeans. "Did you put them somewhere nice?"
He nodded with a smile. "Made sure dey're in da cage and I took 'em breakfast."
"Thanks," she said.
She paused to give him a hug and press a kiss to his cheek. He gently returned the affection, happy that she was not cranky. Sometimes she wanted to get started at the earliest possible time, others she made the girl wait.
They never took two before.
"Mimi, uh…" Ambroise scratched his side nervously. "Why'd we take both?"
She paused, before giving him a smile. "We couldn' get her to leave after ya got dem bot' interested. It's fine, Amb, don't worry. Ya fave can go first or last, ya choice."
"Um…I don' gotta help, right?" he asked hopefully. "Ya know I hate da screams."
"No, ya don' gotta help past da prepping," she promised. "And after. Gator could smell stuff on da truck. You can do dat, right?"
He nodded with a shrug. "I can deliver dem, too, if ya want? Like last time."
Milou shrugged as well, pulling her hair back into a high ponytail, and then into a messy bun. It would get it out of her way when she worked.
Ambroise watched her walk down the hall and disappear down the stairs. There wasn't anything for him to do, because she wouldn't want food.
She never wanted food, even when she didn't have this weird hobby to work on. Sometimes he had to catch her and make her eat, otherwise she ended up passing out. He would run into town, literally on foot, because he had no way to take her, and fetch the doctor. It was embarrassing because they thought he couldn't take care of her.
And they were right.
He followed her down to the first floor where she was kneeling on the carpet looking over all the skin care products. Almost the entire floor was covered in bottles and flasks. Ambroise thought it was a bit excessive, since some were not even for her skin type. However, he did not want to upset his sister, so he never mentioned his thoughts. Most of the time he quickly forgot it anyway.
"Hey, Mimi? Are ya gonna eat before ya go out dhere? Ya really should," he said, hoping for once to convince her to listen.
She looked up at him. "Hm? Yeah, I suppose. What ya got in mind? We low on crawfish?"
"Nuh uh, we got plenty. Do ya want some sausage, t'ough? Made it fer da pets," he said.
"Hmm…dat sounds good. We'll have biscuits, too. Ya get da sausage and I'll work on da biscuits, 'kay?" Milou smiled, moving into the mudroom they used for a pantry, too.
She opened the freezer and pulled out some biscuit dough as well as a brown paper wrapped package. The boys would be hungry, but that would have to wait for the meat to thaw.
Humming softly, she took the biscuits back into the kitchen and put a few on the tray. Breakfast would be nice. It would give her the energy for the daily chores.
French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
9:00 AM
After the plane ride, Dr. Spencer Reid was ready to get to work. When not continuing over the case, Derek Morgan had been unable to keep from swapping Mardi Gras stories. It might have been a bit more understandable the first case in New Orleans, but it was old now.
"Y'all are just in time. Da lab results should be back on something we found on skin soon," a voice drawled.
Reid looked up to see a man in his mid-thirties of average build walking towards Hotch. Their unit leader reached out to grimly shake hands.
"This is Detective Benoit," he introduced the man after briefly conversing. "I believe you spoke to Agent Jareau on the phone?"
The detective nodded, bobbing his head a little to JJ. "Sorry for bein' so direct, ma'am, but it's getting' ridiculous down here and y'all are our last hope."
Reid could understand. The gory, trademark of this killer left even the best forensics experts stumped. Only one family had a margin of consolation. The police frustration only made tensions worse in an already emotionally charged city.
"Apart from the identity of Rebecca Crowley, what have your forensics experts gathered?" David Rossi asked as the team followed the detective inside.
"Only that Rebecca was alive when her face was removed." His voice was cold and hard.
Reid felt his stomach drop. It was good thing Garcia wasn't there. The free-spirit still wasn't able to handle the gory images and details.
"You all can set up in here."
The conference room was like a hundred before it, empty except for photos of the remains and reports from medical experts. The team would probably rearrange the info a little, but otherwise the things in that room were all they had. It really wasn't much.
"Hotch, how're we going to do this? Whoever this un-sub is, he's really good at leaving no trace," Morgan asked.
"Rebecca Crowley is the only identified victim we have," Emily Prentiss stated, gazing at the images. "That's not much to build a profile off of."
"Morgan, call Garcia. See what she's found out and have her send any info here," Garcia said.
Derek nodded and stepped away to call her. Reid was studying the first pictures taken of the lumps of flesh as they were found piled outside that very building.
It was a neat pile, for such a gory, brutal crime. Almost as if the un-sub wanted to keep it orderly. That didn't fit with the taunting, nonchalant disposal at all. It puzzled him, and he was always determined to solve puzzles.
He decided not to bring it up until he figured out more. For now, Garcia's research would be the best lead they had.
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia
10:30 AM
"You have reached the goddess of the internet, please give proper tribute before making your request," Penelope Garcia quipped into the phone quite cheerfully.
There was a laugh. "Hey, baby girl," Derek's voice drifted through the line. You know I'm good for all my tributes, so I need you to grant my request now."
"Fine, but this one had better be good," she retorted with a pretend pout.
"Oh, it will be," he promised. "We've got a couple more criteria for that missing persons' search. On top of the women fitting Crowley's general description, I need you to start from the a bit before the first remains were discovered, until now. Try to keep it centralized to New Orleans, too."
Garcia paused in typing out the code to find what he wanted. "Okay, hun, y ou know that's still going to be hundreds, right?"
He sighed. "Yes, I do, but it's the best shot we've got. Send the stuff here, alright?"
"Alright…" She wasn't thrilled. "You owe me some chocolaty goodness, and I don't mean candy."
He chuckled. "We'll see. Talk to you later, and thanks, baby girl."
She hit the button and went to work. Sure, being in a tiny, dark room lit by computer screens all day wasn't exactly glamorous. Who else got to say that between computer games, they stopped the country's worst bad guys, saving lives in the process? Exactly.
There might not be too many perks with the job, the few it had were pretty fantastic.