Chey stood in front her evidence board with folded her arms, she transformed her guest bedroom into a temp office for her to work. She'd been careful enough not to go to the third crime scene for two days, it was safer if she waited. Books were hastily strewn over her wooden desk filled with scruffy notes and pictures she'd managed to take concerning the case. At this point she'd memorised them.
She huffed and meandered out of the dimly lit room, she was sick of waiting and the un-sub probably was too,"I should go," Chey often talked to herself...well, more like weighed her options openly and consulted herself, but talking none the less,"No, no I can't," she let out an exasperated sigh,"Those freaking detectives! I can't believe they were here all of five minutes and now I'm second guessing myself. Fucking doctors," she hoisted herself up on the kitchen counter and let her head fall into her hands. It was stupid, tremendously stupid, it wasn't a crime nor was it a bad thing to go check out a crime scene in her area, of course she could go. She snatched her trusty hand sanitiser from beside her and squeezed it into her hands, then grabbed her note book and shoved it into her backpack while rushing out the door. Chey swung her leg over her sleek black motorcycle and revved the engine, smiling at the resounding purr, the crime scene was 15 minutes away if she took stop signs out of the equation.
Griffiths parked her bike a street away from the scene and casually walked, if she didn't look suspicious then no one would give her a second glance. The street lights gave her just enough vision to get to where she needed to be, but just enough cover to not be spotted by any bystanders. She crouched behind a car to survey the garden, it was too late for anyone to actively be there, but there could be patrols, it was a risk she was willing to take. The Doctor stretched into a standing position and slowly walked towards the hazard tape, lifting it and entering the house. It was always eerily quiet in situations like this, the moon light streamed through windows casting shadows on everyday objects, transforming them into murders or tricking her brain into thinking she saw movement.
The creak of the basement stairs under her flats startled her but she ignored it and she pushed on, this un-sub wasn't the kind to revisit the crime scene, but it sure felt like he would. She clumsily turned on her phone flashlight and gasped in horror at the centrepiece of the room,"The...bull," she whispered breathlessly. Chey was very aware of immolation torture and it only confirmed her suspicions, but she had to be sure. Her stomach churned as she made her way towards the bull, her breathing got heavier as she realised what she was about to do. Griffiths took a mouthful of air before shining her torch inside the bronze opening and steadily twisting her body to see what was engraved in it, 'Thievery.'
She thrust herself out of the animal and landed abruptly on the floor heaving, she frantically looked around the room with watery eyes trying to see the clue left for her. Chey shot up and searched the room for anything, anything that she could note down. Then she searched the kitchen, and the bathroom, she even went outside to look in the grass. There was nothing, no clue that could give her another lead, she doubted the forensics team would have moved it. It was usually drawn on a wall or hidden somewhere they wouldn't look. She stood in the back garden defeated. She almost couldn't believe it, the killer led her on the whole time, she shook her head and turned to climb over a fence to a neighbouring garden,"Maybe there were never any clues," she mused to herself while walking,"Maybe I was in over my head, I stopped dealing with murder a long time ag-oh?" one of the stone slabs on the edge of the garden rocked beneath her foot, eyeing it cautiously she knelt down to drag it out of it's position. Chey's brow furrowed at the dirt she'd exposed, a section of it seemed to be raised slightly, she covered her hand with her jumper sleeve and retrieved the foreign object. The message the un-sub was giving her almost felt too obvious, it was too easy. A lyre pendant attached to a silver chain, she shook away the dirt and brought it closer to her face, Apollo's lyre. It was no coincidence there was an instrument left at the murder scene of the man who taught her to play guitar.
Chey shoved the jewellery into her jean pocket and began replacing the concrete slab when she heard a leafy crunch, she forced her body not to react and moved the slab slower. It was definitely coming from behind her, she steadied her breathing and stayed in her position on the floor. As her attacker came closer she could tell by the heaviness of his steps and the time taken between each stride that he was tall, she could use that to her advantage. She spun around and kicked his legs out from under him and used that momentum to jump on his back once he was grounded, twisting his arm between his shoulder blades, her knees dug directly into the back of his,"Hotch!" a tall man appeared from inside the house with a gun pointed at Chey,
"FBI, let go of him," it took a second for his words to register in her head, not only had she been caught, but she'd assaulted a possible FBI agent. Both of which were illegal,
"Oh fuck-God I'm-I'm sorry," she lifted her body from the man she attacked, careful not to apply anymore pressure to his joints and kicked his gun towards him. Maybe it would get her some brownie points, he snatched it up quickly and scrambled to Hotch's side, he was muscular, they both were. Chey's eyes focused on the gun pointed at her, and then she looked Hotch in the eye, he wouldn't shoot...probably,
"Chey Griffiths?" His voice wasn't questioning, there was no way they would've known she was in the house, even if someone called the police it would've taken them longer to get there. They knew she would go there and they used it,
"Uh...yeah?" She knew there was no way she could talk her way out of this, feigning innocence got her no where,
"You're under arrest for obstruction of justice and assaulting an FBI agent," he lowered his gun and sauntered over to her to grab her arm and pull her through the house towards the black SUV,
"Would you believe me if I said I got lost?" the hopeful tone in her voice did little to move his stoic expression,"Damn okay,"
The station was buzzing with activity, it seemed especially packed, and yet the officers still had time to stare and whisper. They were all the same. It was a weird feeling, she'd seen criminals being brought into police stations, at one point she helped bring them in. But there she was in all her glory, being guided through the mass of desks not as a consultant or witness, but as an offender. It was truly ironic to her that she was trying to solve the murders, even though she may have broken a few laws, and was still being escorted by two FBI agents to an interrogation room. They'd taken her bag too, it had everything, her research, keys, purse.
They sat her down in the small grey room directly in the view of a one way mirror. She'd say it was for their own sick entertainment if she didn't know better. The only solace she had was that all of her notes were written in Welsh, if they wanted the contents they'd have to talk to her. Chey rested her head on the table in front of her and sighed, she knew they were watching. And she knew she wasn't giving them any signs she was a psychopath, she was just resting.
After half an hour Chey lifted her head and stared into the mirror, by now they were surely looking at her book,"Hey," She began and immediately regretted her wording, what kind of person starts a conversation with the FBI like that?"Assuming you've seen my notes, I'd consider translating them if you asked," she was still slouched over the table and when no reply came, she placed her head back and closed her eyes, considering what to say next,"I guarantee I know more than you," still no reply. She stretched her arms over the length of the table and kept them there, confident they'd talk to her eventually.
The door was slowly pushed open and she sat up, it was the lean Doctor that came to her house a few days previously. He was wearing grey suit bottoms and a purple button up shirt with a black tie, she was willing to admit he didn't look half bad looking. He sat down opposite her and handed her book over, it had a plain brown cover and sticky notes with coloured tabs poking out from the pages,"Dr. Griffiths," he nodded in greeting and set down a file titled 'Greek Torturer' next to her, she eyed it for a moment before picking it up to examine it,
"Dr. Reid," She replied with similar respect,"Oh wow, you guys gave him a name," Chey said mindlessly as she opened the file. She took out pictures of the bodies and the pathology report, Spencer watched, almost impressed as she whipped out the pen attached to the inside cover of the book and began adding to her notes with intense concentration. She would whisper to herself every few minutes, trying to put the pieces together. Then she stopped and stared at the autopsy report for 'David Smith,' the first victim who happened to be crucified, her head snapped up and she looked Spencer in the eye,"This doesn't make sense," she circled a paragraph on the paper and twisted it to Reid,"The M.E said David Smith died quickly with an executioner style gunshot but...in Athens the Crucifixion was intended to be excruciating for vicious criminals," Spencer's eyes narrowed as he read through the report again,
"Then why did the un-sub kill him before he could inflict maximum damage?" He looked up to meet her eye and she flicked through her notes quickly to get back to Smith's pages,
"At the crime scene I may or may not have been to there wasn't as much blood as there would be if it was done like the Greeks did it, the un-sub couldn't go through with it," she paused and flicked forward a couple pages,"He's careful and can wait between kills but...he's a novice at best, he has the intelligence to commit these crimes but not the strength needed for something like this," she stared at Reid for a reaction, but he was almost speechless. Someone with no recorded detective work was able to deduce a key element of the crime scene before he could, she was about to continue when Hotch opened the door and leaned through apprehensively,
"Reid, get Dr. Griffiths to the conference room, I think she's willing to cooperate now."