Disclaimer- see first chapter or profile.
Chapter 3- The Lives of Strangers
The BAU stood in front of the collective mass of detectives and policemen filling the precinct briefing room. All of the immediately relevant information to the case was tacked up behind them, on display for the officers' advantage, although they wouldn't go over most of it. Gideon, hands on his hips, began talking.
"We have a preliminary psychological profile of the UnSub. We're looking for a white male in his early twenties-to-mid-thirties with a menial job that makes him feel underappreciated, although he's highly intelligent, as indicated by the dumpsite and use of pharmaceutical drugs to kill. The genital mutilation suggests he was sexually abused as a child or was close to someone that was. In addition, he may have been battered." he entailed, delivering the profile in a clear-cut manner.
Morgan picked up after him. "He'll be withdrawn and anti-social but not unfriendly, living more internally rather than externally, and he won't be comfortable in crowds. The murders are his way of expressing the anguish he can't vocalize or otherwise let out. His manners will be docile, timid- in short, child-like- and this will lead you to believe he's not capable of committing such a violent crime."
"Do not be fooled." Gideon warned.
J.J. shifted, drawing attention to herself. "In addition, he will be living alone, without any close relations or friends. He's been battling suicidal urges most of his life; if you get him into a corner while he's armed, he may turn the weapon on himself." she told them, pacing in front of them while maintaining strong eye contact.
"He's been living in Nevada for at least the past ten years, anywhere from twenty-to-forty miles from the gravesite in Piker Woods." Gideon resumed. "His job will be stable and he will be very devoted to his work, trying to compensate for some of his perceived inadequacies. This man doesn't have much, but what he has, he holds onto with an iron fist." He held up a tightly clenched hand to illustrate, then continued. It was time to finish up the briefing. "The last two victims were killed approximately three months ago, so he may be getting ready to kill again at any time. Because his dumpsite's been discovered, he's going to have to find a new one, and he's going to be very agitated and upset that he no longer has access to the graves, which are very precious to him and seen as both treasure troves and memorials. Now," he sighed, "any questions?"
The room was silent as the officers and detectives soaked in the weighty information, then a moment later the hands started to go up. The typical inquiries were raised and answered. Five minutes later, everyone was satisfied and had their orders, understanding their instructions and guidelines, and the meeting broke, the people going their separate ways.
"J.J. and I are going to check out the Fairaways' house and work places." Gideon told the team.
Hotch nodded his consent. "Morgan, you and I will look into the sanitarium Diana Reid was institutionalized at. Prentiss, keep looking into the Gamolins." he ordered. "Maybe if we look hard enough we'll figure out where they all crossed the UnSub's path." he added darkly, already heading off, brushing between Morgan and Gideon.
Glancing at Gideon, Morgan raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and then followed.
...
The halls of the hospital were pristine white, with aqua-blue bordering. The tiles of the floor shined, the light from the bulbs overhead glowing off from them, and the glass on the window was almost invisible. Everything about Bennington Sanitarium conveyed orderliness and cleanness- a safe place for those who weren't safe within their own skin.
Morgan fought the urge to put his glasses back on in the overly-bright hospital, instead squinting as they stopped at the reception desk. A woman in a nurse's uniform was sitting on the other side, working at a relaxed pace on a computer.
"Hello," Hotch greeted. "I'm Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner, with the FBI. We're investigating the murder of one of your former patients, Diana Reid. I need to speak with her doctor." he told the woman bluntly.
She was a little taken aback, but she typed away at her keyboard all the same. "Uh, I see..." She studied the screen before her as the information was pulled up. "Diana Reid yes- she was an inpatient here from July 30th, 2000, to April 17'th, 2005. Her doctor was Lisa Ritman."
Hotch nodded. "We need to talk to her." he repeated.
Again, the nurse typed, then shook her head. "She's in session with a patient right now-"
"This takes precedence." Hotch interjected, not allowing any leeway.
The nurse smiled, getting the point. "Yes, sir." She picked up a phone and dialed. "Dr. Ritman, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but there are two gentlemen from the FBI waiting here to see you..."
...
Mark and Tara Fairaway had lived in a big house, with a big lawn, and a big garage. A large lake sat behind the house, the water sparkling in the hot summer sun, and boats bobbed on the surface. While most of the victims had been middle-class, there was definitely an exception for the Fairaways.
"Nice digs." J.J. commented, climbing the stone steps to the front door.
"I don't think they're getting any use of it right now." Gideon reminded solemnly. Pressing the doorbell, they heard the chime within. A second later, the doors opened to a little boy with big green eyes.
Leaning down, Gideon smiled warmly at the child. "Hi, there. I'm Jason Gideon; is your aunt or uncle around?"
Instead of responding, a young man came up behind the boy. "Can I help you?" he asked curtly, body language somewhat defensive.
Straightening himself, Gideon nodded. "Yes." He pulled out his ID, and J.J. did the same. "I'm Agent Gideon and this is Agent Jareau. We're with the FBI and we're currently investigating a series of murders that took place not far from here." he explained, tucking away his ID again. "Are you Matthew Fairaway? The son of Mark and Tara Fairaway?" Less defensive and more shaken, the other man nodded. "And you're already aware that your parents were among the victims found at Piker Woods?" he asked, partly for conformation and partly to state his purpose.
Matthew nodded once more, then put his hand on the top of the boy's head, turning him away gently. "Hey, Jack, why don't you go play upstairs, okay, buddy?" The little boy didn't resist and quickly did as he was told.
Gideon waited until after he was gone to speak again. "May we come inside?"
Holding the door open for them, Matthew stepped aside. "Yeah, sure."
...
Dr. Ritman couldn't have been more than thirty-six, her face still retaining its youthful glow even though she appeared exhausted as she came down the hall towards them. Standing from the chairs they'd been waiting in, Hotch and Morgan accepted her outstretched hand when she met them.
"Well, this is slightly unusual." Ritman noted after introductions were made. "I've talked to plenty of detectives before, but- as you can imagine- we don't get the FBI in here very often."
Hotch smiled, deciding quickly that he was going to like her. "I promise you we won't take up any more of your time than is necessary."
Ritman shook her head. "No, don't worry about it at all. Diana Reid was a good woman, one of my very first patients. I want to make sure she gets her justice." she told them adamantly. "I suppose you'd like to see her room?"
"That'd be great." Hotch agreed. Following her lead, they strode down the halls at a brisk but manageable pace. "Mrs. Reid was a paranoid schizophrenic, I understand." he prompted. "Was she stable?"
"She was medicated," Ritman answered, "but schizophrenia can only be treated, not cured."
Morgan looked at the doctor. "Was she coherent?" he asked.
"Off and on. She was usually able to interact with people, but she'd confuse things sometimes, places and people. She often thought I was an old college roommate and she was cramming for an exam." Ritman explained.
"How often did she get like that?"
Ritman sighed. "Regularly, but perhaps not often enough." Glancing to register their inquisitive expressions, she went on. "She hated it here. Like a lot of patients, she refused to admit she needed help and was crushed when Spencer forcibly committed her." She shook her head sadly. "As hard as it was for her, it was even harder for him to do that to her. But he was looking after her, the very best way he knew how."
Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "Did you ever see anyone lurking around the hospital or on the grounds outside? Someone that seemed out of place or that you just got a bad feeling about?" he questioned, even though he knew she would have already been asked the same thing by the police after Diana's abduction and it would have been noted in the case file.
"No, no one like that." Ritman answered. "When Diana first went missing, I assumed she'd somehow gotten past the security and wondered off. But when she didn't turn up, I began to have my doubts." she confided, obviously blaming herself to some measure for Diana having been taken out from under her nose.
"You were working that day?" Morgan stated.
Ritman nodded. "Yes. I was reviewing another patient's treatment history when Nurse Collins came into my office, wanting to know if I knew where Diana was."
That seemed pretty cut and dry. "How did her son take her abduction?" Morgan inquired, moving the conversation along.
Again, Ritman shook her head, closing her eyes in sympathy. "Spencer was absolutely frantic. He blew in here like a storm, asking questions, telling the police where to go and what to do, reeling off how far she could have gotten and how..." She sighed.
Now that was interesting and Morgan stared at the woman beside him, surprised and befuddled. He wouldn't have pegged the young man as being so aggressive. "Does he always take control of situations like that?"
"Spencer's used to being responsible for his mother. But he's only really assertive if he knows what he's talking about." Ritman explained.
"And he knows about police investigations?" Hotch wondered incredulously.
Stopping at a door, Ritman turned, facing them with an odd mixture of sad irony and defensiveness in her expression. "I'm probably one of the few people who know, but- if things had gone just a little differently- he could have been a member of your team of profilers."
Morgan and Hotch were shocked. "Spencer wanted to be FBI?" Morgan repeated.
Ritman snorted. "Wanted? He was accepted." She opened the door behind her and led them into the room that had once belonged to Diana, although another patient had long since taken up occupancy in it. "Went to Quantico for the training and everything. Then, a weak before he was set to complete, he walked away."
Hotch and Morgan moved about the room, getting a feel for what Diana's day within it might have been like. "Do you know why?" Hotch pressed.
"No. I heard about it through Diana- and I don't think even she knew any more than that." Ritman replied, standing back as the profilers worked.
Hotch, raking over the standardized bureau with piercing eyes without touching anything, found the information unsettling. "And you never asked him about it?"
Morgan slipped a finger between the blinds, looking out the window to the grounds beyond. They were well maintained, with picnic tables for the patients and visitors to sit at, lush gardens to walk through, and the green grass and bushes that were neatly trimmed. People walked around below, each engrossed in their own affairs or lost in illusionary concerns, and outside the high wall that penned them in was the long driveway that connected the hospital to the main road. Woods rose up on the other side of it, directly facing the room. It would have made an ideal place for someone to watch the patients in the upper floors of the building without being seen; it could very well have been how Diana was selected.
"I wanted to," Ritman admitted, "but it wasn't my place. It didn't affect Diana too much- other than she was happy to have her son not going into a dangerous line of work- so there was no medically relevant reason for me to bring it up."
Turning his head to look at the doctor, Morgan abruptly switched topics. "Did Mrs. Reid always have the blinds closed?" he asked, fairly certain of the answer already.
Ritman was a little surprised by the sudden question, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember. "Ah, no, actually. Diana like to be able to look outside, so they were usually open, unless she was trying to sleep."
Hotch walked over, inspecting the view himself, and knew where Morgan was going with this.
"He probably stood right there and watched her, learned her habits, and waited." Morgan stated.
"For the right moment to take her." Hotch agreed.
Morgan shook his head, disgusted by it. "No one even saw or knew he was there."
Turning, Hotch faced Ritman. "Where are the common areas?"
...
Gideon sat down on the stuffed couch, J.J. next to him, and made himself comfortable as Matthew and Rachel- his sister- took seats in two matching chairs opposite them. "You have a very nice house." Jason complimented, glancing around the large living room. Glass doors and windows dominated one wall, the floors were marble with ornate rugs decorating certain areas, and an impressive entertainment center ran along another wall. The Fairaways had certainly been well-off.
"We've been over this before." Rachel stated bluntly, sidelining the pleasantries. From the dark scowl on her face, it was clear she wasn't happy with their presence. "We just want this to be over with."
Gideon nodded, staring at the young woman, and was struck by the darkness in her eyes; these kids had been through something horrific and were showing it. "Of course. We understand that- we just have a few questions."
"What can you possibly ask that we haven't been asked before?" Rachel demanded, glaring.
"Well, we're profilers," J.J. answered, as unthreateningly and sincerely as possible, "and we approach investigations a little differently than detectives do. We're gathering information to determine the personality and mind-set of the man that killed your parents and to figure out how your parents got his attention, and why. We have a theory we're working with, but we need to try to confirm it."
This placated the youths slightly, but they were still defensive. "What's your theory?"
Gideon shifted, knowing this was where they needed to be gentle. If they were right, Matthew- or possibly Jack- had been molested by Mrs. Fairaway. "We believe the killer may have been abused as a child- likely one or both of his parents were unstable- and he killed them as a way to get revenge. Now, he's reenacting the event by going after anyone that reminds him of them." he explained cautiously, watching their expressions. After a long moment, when they still hadn't said anything, Gideon continued. "Your father had Turette's and OCD, didn't he?" They nodded. "And your mother-"
"She wasn't our mother." Matthew snapped angrily.
Of course, Gideon was aware that Tara was Mark's second wife but, all the same, the vehement reaction was unexpected.
"Our mother died in a burglary eleven years ago. Our dad was devastated and was never the same afterwards. He slept with Tara while he was still grieving, got her pregnant, and nobly married her." Matthew sneered. "Tara never cared about our dad- just his money."
The room was silent for a brief moment, the agents absorbing the outburst, before J.J spoke. "So, I take it there wasn't any love lost... when she went missing?" she inquired hesitantly, not wanting to hurt or offend them. Their stony expressions, however, assured her that she was correct.
"Did Tara," Gideon went on, picking up where he'd left off, "ever do anything... inappropriate with you or Jack?"
Matthew's eyes grew even darker- and more pained. He glanced away for a split second and then shot a deadly glare at Gideon. "What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded.
"If the UnSub knew or believed that she was abusing one of you, he may have seen that as justification for murdering her." Gideon replied neutrally.
"And how would he know that?" Rachel asked flippantly, apparently finding the notion almost amusing for some reason.
J.J. shifted. "We don't know." she admitted. "He may have been watching you, or perhaps he was able to recognize the signs you were exhibiting, having been victimized himself."
No one said anything for a long minute, a battle being waged within Matthew as he stared at them, no one blinking, and his eyes filled with anger and tears. At last he nodded. "When I was little." he whispered, voice hard with pain. "When I got older, she lost interest."
The horror of it and their reluctance to discuss it became clearer. "But that was even worse, because there was Jack." Jason stated.
The tears slipped from his eyes, large and heavy, and rolled down his cheeks. "Yeah. I knew. I was always afraid it was going to happen... and then I knew."
"She threatened us if we ever told anyone!" Rachel broke in, defending herself and her brother in anguish as the wall of hostility fell. "Said that no one would believe us, and that she'd kill us before they could take us away. And she would have, just to get even."
Gideon nodded, understanding. "You tried to protect him," addressing Rachel in regard to Matthew and Matthew in regard to Jack, "but you couldn't. And when she went missing, you were grateful."
Matthew sniffed, nodding. "From the moment she went missing, I hoped she was dead."
"What about your dad?" Gideon pressed, wondering what his feelings were about him.
Matt shrugged. "He wasn't as bad as Tara, but he could barely take care of himself, let alone care about us." he said noncommittally. It seemed like Matt wouldn't have cared either way if his dad had come back or not.
"And no one- no one at all- knew that Tara was abusing you?" Gideon asked, needing to make sure that the UnSub couldn't have found out through a line of communication.
Matt and Rachel both shook their heads. "No," Rachel replied, "as far as everyone else was concerned, she was the perfect housewife and we were a happy little family. No one had a clue."
Sighing, Gideon nodded, satisfied for now and in deference to the emotional toll this was taking on the teenagers. It was clearly difficult for them to talk about what had happened and there was no reason to put them through more than necessary. "Okay... You mind if we take a look around the house and yard?"
The two seemed relieved and they wearily nodded, getting up to show them around.