Thank you all very much for the reviews. I've been an absolute basket-case this week, and you encouragement has contributed to my decision that homicide is not an effective solution to a problem. No matter how tempting my co-workers make it.
Someone said in a review that it was a hard story to read, I assume this means emotionally trying, so I'm going to pass on another warning; this chapter isn't any easier and the story is just going to get harder as it goes on. Just so we're all on the same page.
And, I may not get to update next week, my schedule is pretty packed. Thank you for reading!
Majorie Hanson had been living with her sister since the attack, unable to return to her home without being paralyzed with fear. She sat on a blue microfiber sofa, a small, fuzzy golden retreiver puppy sitting in her lap. Red-gold curls flowed over her shoulders and down her back, and her aqua-colored eyes were unfocused as she gently stroked the puppy's fur. Morgan was unnerved that her behavior seemed to mirror Emily's from earlier that morning.
They were seated across from the young woman on a matching loveseat. Prentiss was tense beside him, but her face was a mask of detached empathy. They were seemingly incongruent emotions, but not in this case. Anyone that knew her could see that under the empathy she usually displayed was a layer of forced detachment.
"Ms. Hanson, can you tell us about the evening you were attacked, what you did before you went to bed?" Emily leaned forward slightly as she spoke.
"Well, I got home from work around six, the usual time, and I made dinner. I fed-I fed-" her voice cracked, and her eyes grew wet. "I fed Jeremiah and Keaton, they uh, always met me at the door. Jerry would always start purring, and Keat has this squeaky meow, that was how they greeted me..." She wiped her eyes.
"Do you need a minute, Ms. Hanson?" He asked gently.
She shook her head. "I'm okay...um, I fed the boys, I made dinner, uh pasta. I ate in front of the TV, I don't, um don't remember what was on. Then I called Jess, my sister, and we talked for a while. She told me that Kelly, my niece, had started to walk. We talked for maybe an hour, and then I took a shower. There was nothing unusual that I noticed. I got into bed then, and spent about an hour reading before I shut off the light."
"This was pretty routine for you?" Emily asked.
"Yes, I don't tend to socialize much during the week, usually Friday and Saturday I go out, not that there's much to do here..."
"We need you to tell us about the attack, everything he did, the smallest thing could be important," Morgan said.
Majorie nodded, and swallowed. "I'm not sure when I woke up, but he was already above me. He was wearing a ski mask, and before I could do anything, he put a damp cloth over my mouth and nose. I was forced to inhale, it smelled...sweet. When I woke up again, I was blindfolded and gagged, and my arms were tied to the headboard. I was...was naked and I felt the b-bed move, like someone sat down. Then he put his hands on me, and he, he, he was-" She cut herself off, and took a breath, before leveling her gaze at Emily. "Do I really have to go through all this? I mean, you know what it's like, do you really need to hear it?"
Emily physically moved back and her mouth opened before she collected herself. "We study behavior Ms. Hanson, we need to know everything the man that attacked you did so that can find him."
She looked like she might cry, but then inhaled and looked away from them. "He...he started to touch me, he said, 'don't worry, it will feel good. Later, when he was getting close to...you know, he started saying, 'It's your fault, it's your fault," over and over again. He didn't talk other than that. He put his mouth on my...and used his tongue to make me..." she was cut off by a sob then, and the puppy took off from her lap. With a hand over her mouth, she struggled to keep her tears at bay. She looked at Emily. "Who, who does that when they're being...what kind of person...?"
With some reservation, Emily got up, and moved next to the young woman, offering a tentative hand on her shoulder. She said, voice soft, "It's not your fault, it was your body's natural response."
A few tears slid down Majorie Hanson's face. "I feel so dirty and no matter how much I shower it doesn't go away. I can't, I can't get rid of him, I can't wash it all away." Her voice cracked and finally broke then, a torrent of tears pouring down her pale face, and she collapsed into Emily, wrapping her arms around the profiler like she was some symbol of safety, of security.
It almost made Emily laugh. As the young woman sobbed hysterically in her arms, her mind was assaulted with her own horrific memories. She had tried to wash Chris down the drain several times, but the miserable bastard just wouldn't go.
The ME had pulled out four drawers, each with a small body hidden under a sheet, and the autopsy table had the latest animal victim laid out. A St. Bernard named Angelo, who unlike the others hadn't been hacked into pieces. Rossi was loath to consider what the unsub had done to the poor animal instead.
"Dr. Andrews finally got a chance to come over and assist me with the necropsies. She's a vet from one of the best hospitals in the state," Dr. Haverford, the ME explained.
Dr. Andrews was in her early fifties, and she was focused on the dog, a look of such heartbreak on her face, he wanted to erase the day from her memory. Clearly, the woman was a lover of animals, and this had undoubtedly tested her resolve and her stomach.
"What can you tell us?" Hotch asked, all business.
"Two dogs, three cats, the first four of which suffered various abuses which caused them to bleed to death. This last victim suffered internal bleeding from numerous forceful hits, before the assailant took the knife to it. If Angelo here hadn't bleed out, he'd have bleed to death on the inside," Haveford said.
Andrews inhaled. "They were healthy animals until that point. No mange, no fleas, a couple of them were a little overweight, but that isn't uncommon to see now. I obtained copies of their charts from the local vet, they were up to date on all their shots, all five of them."
"Can you tell what type of knife he used, Doctor?" Rossi asked.
"The edges of the amputations were ragged and messy, it wasn't a knife designed for this, and from the actual stab wounds, I'd say it wasn't very big either. It was serrated though, and I hesitate to say a steak knife, because he would need a lot of force to cut through the tendons and bone, but that's what it looks like."
"A steak knife." That didn't sound likely.
Haverford nodded. "If it was a good, sharp one, it could do this, but like I said, he'd need a lot of force."
"So, he's physically fit." He turned to Hotch.
The other man nodded, and looked at the doctor. "Any signs of hesitation?"
He shook his head. "Not even one, your boy is accustomed to this I'm sad to say."
After a few more questions, they thanked the doctors, and shook hands before heading back to the station. It was late afternoon now, and they didn't feel that much closer to catching the guy, but some cases went quicker than others.
"What the hell is this?" Rossi blurted as they approached the station.
There was a swarm of people out front, and a half a dozen news vans parked across the street. People with video cameras talking to people with microphones, a few actually shooting video with the station as the backdrop. Other people stood around with small digital recorders or camera's with large flashes, and even larger lenses. Several were on phones or staring down at blackberries or I-Phones. A half a dozen uniformed officers were outside, keeping the crowd of reporters at bay, and generally ignoring them.
"You think they're here for the cases or Prentiss?" Hotch turned to him, having slowed the SUV to a crawl.
"Crime reporters get information from individual cops, or they camp-out outside the victim's house. This crowd is here to see somebody, celebrity mongers," he said.
"She's not a celebrity."
Rossi cocked his head, offering Hotch a dubious expression. "Not in a traditional sense." He sighed, looking at the crowd. "But, the people out there, the ones who will be watching that damn special tonight, they look at Emily and what she went through, and they see more courage than they could ever imagine possessing, and that painful vulnerability that we all wish we didn't have. They're curious, and they want to be a part of it." He turned back to Hotch with a small smile. "And, it certainly doesn't hurt that she's beautiful."
Hotch didn't argue that, just grimaced as he drove toward the crowd, the uniformed officers springing into action, and moving people out of the way so they could park. Then it was a symphony of shouting and camera flashes, which didn't phase him, but seemed to piss Hotch off even more. The locals ushered them inside, and they soon found, it wasn't much happier inside. The sheriff had his hands on his hips, pacing outside his office, presumably waiting for Hotch.
"Agent Hotchner," he greeted, rushing over. "I can't have this going on outside my station. My people have work to do, they can't plow through those idiots every time they come and go. And, I-"
"Sheriff," Hotch said, holding a hand up. "I don't like it anymore than you do, but there isn't much we can do about it."
"Sure there is, send her home, those vultures will follow her straight away from here."
"She has a name, sheriff," Rossi said, keeping his voice as pleasant as possible.
"Fine, send Agent Prentisshome." He spared a glance at the conference room, but not for long.
"I will try to control the media as much as possible, but I won't remove one of my agents from the field for something that isn't under her control. Thank you, Sheriff." With that, Hotch swept by him, straight to the conference room. Rossi nodded to the Sheriff and followed Hotch.
Morgan and Emily had gotten back, the former blank-faced, but leaking anger all over the place, and the latter had her head in her hands, and looked like she was already emotionally drained. She looked up at Hotch. "He wants me gone."
He nodded. "Unless you feel like this is too much too soon, I don't plan on sending you anywhere."
The tension eased off her a bit. "Thanks."
"Did you learn anything new from the victims?"
She turned to Morgan, allowing him to start. "We think the unsub was probably sexually abused as a child."
"Oh?" This was interesting, not unusual, but it was a pretty quick conclusion to make.
Morgan leaned forward in his seat beside Emily. "He spoke to the women the way a sexual predator speaks to vulnerable prey. It's okay, it won't hurt, it will feel good, don't worry, it's our little secret."
"Yeah," Emily agreed. "That's when he's in control, when he loses it, he repeats it's your fault over and over again, and Becky Lawson described him as sounding almost frightened, even pathetic." She bit her lip. "He also performed oral sex on both of them until they achieved orgasm."
"That's new," Rossi said.
"It's like he's been trained to perform this way. He gives them what he's been taught to give them, but afterward he's takes control back for himself," Morgan added.
"That fits with what Stephanie Taylor told me. Except that she also said, he had difficulty keeping control. He'd get rough, squeezing her arms, grabbing her hair, then he'd abruptly stop. And, when he finished, he sounded almost like he was crying, and he was still saying, 'it's all your fault," over and over again," JJ said.
"The animals make sense under that context too, they're just serving as stand-ins for him," Reid offered.
"Until he's able to go after the real thing," Hotch said, expression severe. "If he was abused chances are child welfare was involved."
"Ah, and I see I once again have perfect timing, Greetings Bossmen," Garcia chirped in from the screen in front of JJ, a glance at Hotch and Rossi. "So, they asked me to look into child welfare before you got back, and I've got good news and bad news."
"Let's have it," Rossi said.
"Okay, good news, Ryeburg operates under the county system for child welfare, the Department of Child and Family Services, and I successfully got into their records. The bad news, DCF is a little behind in getting digital, they're only computerized for 1995 and after, before that you'll have to look at physical records," she explained to a quickly plummeting morale.
"If we give you some search parameters, can you narrow the list for us?" Hotch asked.
"Of course. Just starting shouting."
"He would be twenty or over," Rossi said.
"Remove anyone dead, in prison, or moved away, he still has to live in Ryeburg," Hotch added.
"Alright, I'm down to 13 names," she said.
"How many have juvy records?" Morgan asked.
"Uh...three."
"Alright, give us the three names, and addresses for them, we'll talk to them, and you dig up what you can on the remaining ten," Hotch instructed.
"Yes, sir. Names and addresses are heading to your phones...now."
"Garcia, do you have the address for the DCF office as well?" Prentiss asked.
"Should be appearing in a second or two, it's in the county seat of course, Bridesburg," she said. "About 45 minutes away."
Hotch nodded, and looked at Morgan and Emily, "You take the first name, and then head to Bridesburg, Rossi and I will take the other two names, Reid I want you to work with Garcia on the other names, and JJ do what you can to get rid of that mob outside."
"I'll take the Sheriff out and do a press conference after you guys leave, that should keep that busy for at least a little while."
"That's fine."
"You have any comments on the special tonight, Hotch?" She asked.
He frowned. "I spoke to Strauss earlier, the Bureau is aware of it, and issued a statement, you can use that."
"Special?" Morgan asked. Prentiss already looked a little paler.
JJ inhaled. "TrueTV is doing a three part special on Emily and Bennett."
The brunette's eyebrows rose. "Three parts? I didn't think I was that interesting."
"Tonight's the first part, sweetie. Everything in both your lives up to the murders in New York." Their attention went to Garcia, still plugged into the computer.
"What, like when we were dating?"
Garcia nodded. "And, your career, his family, that stuff."
Prentiss's face twisted up in disgust. "At least that explains all the press attention."
