Author's Note: Back with Chapter 2. Kudos to those of you who correctly guessed the old case we're dealing with: the Flagstaff, Arizona campus spree killer from Season 3, Episode 1 (Doubt). There will probably be a few more references to Seasons 3 and maybe 4 peppered into the story, but not too heavily. (And no, I will not be bringing Gideon back. He's an interesting character, but dealing with bringing him back and all of his psychological trauma would deviate too much from the story I want to tell. Sorry if this disappoints!) Also, just a brief reminder, this only follows CM cannon through the first episode of Season 8. I've decided I want Strauss alive and will use her occasionally.
This chapter is a little bit longer than the last. I hope you enjoy!
Emily drove to the crime scene as fast as possible. Her thoughts raced through her head almost faster than she could process them. The Campus Killer case was not one she was particularly keen on revisiting. Even for a BAU case, it had been particularly unpleasant. Part of that had to do with the turmoil surrounding the team at the time rather than the case itself. Emily had been at the BAU less than a year at the time and Strauss was blackmailing her in an attempt to get her to help sabotage Hotch. Hotch, who'd had his suspicions about Emily from day one, was cold and distant. Gideon was still reeling from the murder of his friend Sarah.
Considering the circumstances, the case was bound to be a disaster, and it was. The arrest was botched. Hotch was suspended. Emily quit. Gideon went over the edge, disappearing to start his life over. Even though Hotch and Emily came back to the team and eventually established a good relationship, the case still left a bitter taste in Emily's mouth.
She desperately hoped that when she got to the crime scene she would find out that the Metropolitan Police had it wrong. That the victimology was off or that the signature didn't match. If the murders did match the pattern of Nathan Tubbs' kills, Emily had no doubt that she would end up mired knee-deep in the case. It didn't fall into INTERPOL's jurisdiction, but Victor and his colleagues would expect her to help, and she would feel obligated to do so. This would mean essentially working two jobs until the case was solved. It would also mean essentially working a case with her husband, which she was certain was a terrible idea. There was a reason that the FBI, INTERPOL, Scotland Yard, and every other law enforcement agency she knew of had strict policies regarding coworker relationships. Too much focus on the relationship could compromise a case, and too much focus on a case could ruin the relationship.
As soon as Emily reached the address Victor sent her, she parked her car and made straight for huddle of police standing near a taped-off area. Although the rain had stopped, a slight chill still permeated the air. Emily wrapped her black jacket tightly around herself as she tried to find Victor in the group. He found her first.
"Emily, over here," she heard him say, beckoning her from the other side of the police tape. She fought her way through the group of on-looking officers – from the looks of them, largely young rookies paying their dues on the night beat – and made her way to the scene. Victor held up the tape for her as she ducked under and made her way over to the body. There waiting for her was a familiar man in his mid-fifties with strong features, and grey-streaked dark hair. His black police jacket zipped up to his neck, leaving the top of his black tie exposed.
"Emily, you've met Chief Superintendent Perry," Victor reminded her. "Chief Superintendent, you remember my wife."
"Chief Prentiss," Perry said, extending his hand.
"Just Prentiss, or Emily," Emily insisted. She hated being called Chief Prentiss. It reminded her too much of Strauss. She had to put up with it at INTERPOL. That was more than enough.
"I'm sorry to call you out like this, particularly at such a late hour," Perry continued. "But, given the circumstances, it would be tremendously helpful if you could take a look."
"Of course," Emily obliged. "What do you have here?"
"Her name was Rachel Watson," Perry answered grimly, staring down at the body.
Emily knelt down to study Watson. The young woman was slight. Average height. He had long brown hair and an angular, lineless face. She had been robbed of the prime of her life, Emily thought bitterly. Even though she had seen hundreds of bodies throughout her career, she still felt that slight surge of rage in the pit of her stomach when she saw victims so young.
"She was 21," Perry continued. "Brown hair. Stabbed multiple times."
"With the fatal wound to the heart?" Emily asked.
"We'll need an autopsy to confirm, but she was definitely stabbed there," Perry answered.
"And you found her like this?" Emily said, indicating the girl's crossed arms.
"Yes," the superintendent confirmed. "And it was the same three nights ago. Young brunette victim. Arms crossed. Autopsy confirmed she was stabbed in the heart."
Emily stared at the ground, lost in thought.
"Emily, what is it?" Victor pulled her out of her world of analysis.
"Nothing," she replied. "It's just that, two murders isn't necessarily enough to establish it as a connection, especially nine years apart in a large city thousands of miles away."
"So you don't think they're related?" Perry asked.
"I don't know," Emily answered truthfully. The similarities definitely gave her an uneasy feeling, but she couldn't be certain. The one thing she was certain about was that London had a serial killer on the loose, and sending the Metropolitan Police down the wrong path could have deadly consequences. She just wished she had more sufficient evidence to either make or dismiss a link between the cases.
"Wait," she said suddenly, bending down to gently lift up Watson's shirt and examine the body.
"What is it?" Victor asked urgently. But Emily barely heard him. She was too absorbed in her search. The terrible condition of the victim's torso made things difficult, but after a minute she found what she was looking for, and her worst fears were confirmed. Watson had two distinct burn marks on her pale torso.
"They're definitely connected to the Arizona College killings," Emily concluded abruptly.
"You're sure?" Victor pressed.
"Positive," Emily answered. "He used a taser on her. It's how Tubbs subdued his victims. In the States I might even chalk that up to coincidence, but tasers are illegal here and extremely rare. It's definitely part of a signature, he's imitating Tubbs."
"Nathan Tubbs killed four women. All brunettes in Flagstaff, Arizona, United States in 2007," Victor read aloud from a record on his iPad.
"No, that's not right," Emily interrupted abruptly. "He killed three women."
"I'm looking at old news clippings that say four victims," Victor answered, confused.
"The fourth victim was the victim of a copycat," Emily explained. "There was a young student on the campus who was deeply troubled, mentally ill, suicidal. She became obsessed with the killer. She wanted to be killed by him. After we apprehended Tubbs, she committed the fourth murder to get him released."
Victor shot her a wide-eyed look.
"You're joking." Perry insisted.
"No, unfortunately I'm not," Emily said, rising from her crouching position. "She was a very sick girl who didn't get any help."
"Well, where is she?" Perry asked. "Is it at all possible that she was released and ended up in the U.K.?"
"No, it wasn't her," Emily dismissed.
"How can you be sure?" Victor asked.
"Because," Emily sighed, recalling an image she'd rather forget. An image of a frail, troubled girl collapsing to the ground, clutching a stainless steel blade bathed in crimson. "She committed suicide when she was standing about as far away from me as you are now."
The two men fell silent.
"I need to go back through the notes from that case," Emily said, moving away from the body and back towards the perimeter of the scene. "I might get some input from my old team in D.C. I'll get you a profile as soon as I can."
"Thank you, Prentiss," Perry answered, giving her another brief handshake. "I appreciate all the help we can get in stopping this man."
As Emily left the scene and headed back to her car, Victor jogged to catch up with her.
"Emily!" he shouted. "Wait up."
"What is it?" she asked.
"I'm sorry," he said, staring at her guiltily.
"About what?" she asked, confused.
"That case," he replied. "It wasn't just another case for you was it? I didn't know about the suicide. I didn't mean to dig that up."
"It's not the worst case I've ever dealt with," Emily said truthfully. "But it's never easy to watch somebody kill themselves. And there was a lot of tension going on in the team. So yes, it was rough. But it's fine."
"Go home and get some sleep," he insisted. "You're tired, and you can't talk to the BAU at this hour. Go to bed, then go to work. We can talk tonight."
"Alright," she agreed. "I'll see you at home later."
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too," she answered before they exchanged a brief kiss. "But I still hate that tie."
Emily managed to get in a few more hours of sleep, but most of it was fitful. She was already trying to string together a profile in her mind. She knew in her gut and in her mind that the killings of the University College students and the killings in Flagstaff had to be connected somehow, but she had no idea where to begin. She did know that the longer things took, the more bodies would pile up.
That morning at the INTERPOL office, Emily was particularly thankful for her compartmentalization skills. The Tubbs case and the University College killings nagged at her in the back of her mind, but she was able to set it aside and get quite a bit accomplished. She took her lunch break hunched over her desk, head resting on her hand reviewing the autopsies and other reports Victor had forwarded to her from Scotland Yard. The reports might have come from Arizona years ago. Deep stab wound to the heart, followed by total overkill before the remorse set in and the arms were folded. Emily still couldn't believe this scenario was repeating itself in London of all places. But she did know that the unsub was mature, patient, and had studied the Tubbs case closely. She was almost certain he had been in the States at or near the time of the original killings. The Flagstaff murders weren't a big international story, but they certainly received substantial coverage domestically.
At about three o'clock, she decided it was time to make the call. It was late morning in D.C. Unless they were out on a call, the team should all be at the Quantico building. Grabbing her cell off her desk, she dialed an oft-used number.
"My sweet, wonderful Emily Prentiss, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Hey Garcia," Emily answered smiling. Even after all these years, something about hearing Garcia almost always lightened her mood. "I need to call in a favor."
…
As the team filed into the conference room at the BAU, Hotch sought out Garcia.
"Garcia, what's this about?" he inquired. "I haven't received any word about a new case."
"Sir, this call just came in, but I have a distinct feeling that you are going to be interested in this one," she answered, pointing to the telescreen where a familiar face appeared.
"Emily!" JJ remarked happily.
"Hey guys," Emily replied. "How's it going?"
"Always a good day when we see you, Prentiss," Derek answered. "What's happening?"
"Well, as much as I wish I could just chat, I think I need your help," she answered.
"What can we do for you, Prentiss?" Hotch asked immediately.
"Well," Emily said somewhat hesitantly, knowing the subject she was about to broach was not a popular one with her friends, "it's about the Nathan Tubbs case. In Flagstaff."
Seeing the looks of confusion on the faces of Rossi and Blake, Hotch rushed to explain.
"It's a case we worked in 2007. Spree killer on a college campus. I'll explain more later, but it was the case that drove Jason Gideon into retirement."
"Prentiss, you better have a damn good reason for bringing that one up," Derek warned.
"I don't know how to explain it," Prentiss admitted. "But the elements of that case all seemed to have re-surfaced in London in the past week. Two brunette students of University College have been killed. Both stabbed in the heart then continuously stabbed post-mortem. Both left with their arms crossed."
"Prentiss, nine years and an ocean apart, that has to be a coincidence," Derek pointed out.
"They were also both tased," Emily added. "It's not legal to own a taser here. They're extremely rare."
"It does tip the scales of coincidence," Reid pointed out. "The probability of there being no relation at all is extremely low, even if it just turns out to be a copycat killer. There almost has to be some link."
"Is INTERPOL working the case?" Blake asked.
"No, it's Metropolitan Police," Emily answered. "But after Victor realized the link between this case and the case we worked, they've asked me to consult. I just thought I could use any files and insights you all can spare."
"I'll send everything we have right away," Garcia chimed in. "Anything else I can do?"
"Yes," Emily replied. "Cross-reference any records you might have of college employees and students from that time with U.K. Border Security records. I'll get you access through INTERPOL."
"On it," Garcia stated, striding from the room.
"Have you been able to review anything yourself yet?" JJ asked.
"Just the autopsies and basic reports," Emily responded. "There's no hesitation in the stab wounds and the methodology fits Tubbs to a tee, so assuming he's looking to Tubbs for inspiration, he's meticulous and thorough in his studying and execution. I'd say that means he's probably at least in his thirties if not older, and almost certainly was in the U.S. in or around the time of the murders."
"You know guys," Derek hesitated, knowing that what he was about to say would not be popular. "We were never able to prove for sure that Tubbs was the unsub."
"Morgan, are you still on about that?" JJ asked exasperated.
"JJ, it's a fact. We don't know."
"Morgan, the profile pointed directly to Tubbs," Emily countered. "He had the rage. The opportunity. The tools. The motive. He had trophies. He slept like a baby even while Gideon was interrogating him over three murders."
"Morgan's right," Hotch said quietly. "We never had definitive proof."
"Hotch, are you kidding me?" Emily asked, astounded. She had always been certain that Tubbs was the killer, and she thought Hotch had too. He had personally staked a great deal on that case.
"You always believed it was Tubbs," she reminded him. "He was the perfect fit."
"Prentiss, I agree that it was almost certainly Tubbs. But the fact is we never found enough direct physical evidence and now somebody with the exact same signature and victimology is killing again in your city. If we were wrong, then we're responsible for that. I want to reopen the case."
"Hotch, I have no authority to invite you in on this case," Emily reminded him. "If it was an INTERPOL case it would be different, but it's out of my control."
"You said London Metropolitan Police invited you in as a consult," Hotch replied. "Do you think you can talk them into letting us help them as well? Just in a purely advisory capacity?"
"Probably," she answered. "These guys don't deal with a lot of serials and it's all over the news. They want a stop to it as soon as possible."
"Alright," Hotch concluded. "Blake, JJ, Reid, I want you to go through everything we have on the Tubbs case and re-examine it. JJ and Reid, try and act as if you've never seen it before. In fact, we should stop calling it the Tubbs case. From now on it's the Flagstaff campus case. I want to treat this as if we don't even know Nathan Tubbs existed."
"Morgan, go home and pack your bags. You too, Dave. I want a fresh pair of eyes with us on this. I'll go have Garcia make the arrangements," Hotch said, leaving the room.
"Pack my bags?" Morgan asked, confused. "Are we going back to Flagstaff?"
"No," Rossi answered with a knowing look. "We're going to London."
I hope you enjoyed. Reviews/comments/suggestions are appreciated as always.