A/N: Here is the third chapter! Sorry it took so long.
Warning: Graphic description of skinning.
The three men arrived at the small house in the outskirts of New Orleans, only about 30 minutes from the heart of the animated city. They all walked into the house, and turned on the lights, however, they did not turn on for reasons unknown, which added to the uneasy feeling that emanated from the one-bedroom, two-bath crime scene. Hotch walked over to the curtains in order to let in some natural light. The first thing they noticed was the blood, which seemed to cover the floor as if someone got tired of the beige tile and wanted something different. The house was decorated heavily; little trinkets from around the world were sitting relatively unharmed on the shelves, and colorful woven blankets covered most of the couch and chairs.
"Did any of the other victims travel?" Rossi asked, picking up a Babushka doll, tuning the wooden toy carefully.
"Yes, why?" Hotchner answered, looking up from the stack of mail left on the counter.
"Because it seems like the UNSUB is targeting women in their late twenties who like to travel."
"Hey, look at this."
The two turned to look at their youngest member.
Reid held up a letter.
"It seem like it is from the UNSUB." He said incredulously. "I don't know how the police missed this."
"Well, what does it say?"
Spencer held it towards the light coming from one of the only two windows.
"You left me. Now you will pay."
"At least it is to the point." Rossi commented with a small sigh.
"Could it be that the UNSUB had dated all of these women?"
"We can't throw away the idea that he is simply delusional."
"We can't throw away either idea yet." Hotch added. "Call Garcia, tell her to look at all the men in the victim's lives, and see if anything comes up."
"Gotcha, and we better make our way over to the medical examiner." Reid replied, checking his watch. "It's getting a little late."
"The skinning is not the cause of the death. It is really common to misconstrue. It is too difficult to skin this cleanly without killing before." The medical examiner said, picking up a small flashlight, and pointing the beam of light to the distorted neck of the woman. "The cause of death, I am almost certain, is hanging. See the bruising on the muscle and the snapped neck bone? But it was not instantaneous; she probably was in pain for a minute or so. Still brutal, in my opinion."
The three agents sighed in relief.
"So how does one theoretically skin a human?"
The medical examiner made a noise of amusement.
"Funny you should ask. I was wondering that myself. I would assume it would be like dressing a deer or any other large mammal." The middle-aged coroner turned around, grabbing a pair of scissors.
"He probably propped her on her back after she was dead and made a cut from just above her genitals, up to the rib cage." She took the scissors, and dragged them along the now-stitched cut on her body. "He then cut through the ribs to make it easier to reach up into her chest." She took the scissors and made a slashing motion in the air.
"Then, he turned her on her side and allowed the guts to fall out. It took a bit of cutting the fatty tissue, though. Then he would have to reach into her throat and tear out the esophagus. Then the lungs easily go out."
The three men cringed.
"Now, for the skinning. He put her back up on the rope, and made a circular cut around her neck. He then connected this cut with the cut made in the stomach. He then removed the skin by grasping it and pulling down hard with both hands."
"That sounds awful." Reid blurted. They have seen ugly, but not this mangled.
"Agreed. The others were the same. Poor girls." The coroner replied, setting down the cutters, fixing her gray wire-rimmed glasses.
"We appreciate your demonstration; contact us if you have any more information." Hotchner said a bit too brusquely, as he was as uncomfortable as the other two.
"Yes, thank you." Rossi gave the woman his business card. "We need to report this information to the local police, anyway."
And they all rushed away from the wrinkled woman, the tall, gray building, and most importantly, the revolting body of a poor young woman who was at the receiving end of a serial killer.