"John?" Olivia whispered. John raised his head slowly, trying to gain his bearings in a strange place. "Were you here all night?"
"Yeah," he said quietly, stretching slowly. He looked down to the files on his desk. "I need to figure this guy out before he hurts someone else."
"Too late for that, John. Don't you ever turn your phone on?" Fin asked, throwing John his jacket. "Our head agent wants everyone at this scene. Warner and Elliot are already there, so we need to get moving."
John obeyed, putting on his jacket and accepting a hot tea from Olivia. He rode with the two of them, allowing them to navigate the highways to arrive at the scene.
Once there, all of them realized how bad this guy was. There were sixteen bodies total of men, women, and children. Each were brutally raped and beaten to death with a tire iron. And when that became too slippery from the blood and tissue, he used various rocks around the area.
"We've been processing since the scene was found around three this morning," Warner whispered. "We know there's at least three more, but we can't find their bodies anywhere."
"How do you know that?" Fin asked. Warner pointed to lights from a nearby building that were flickering behind wind-touched trees.
"There was a funeral going on, and we found the guest log. Three names are listed that aren't accounted for here. The pastor is the only one who lived, but only because he did his sick, sick bidding," Warner explained.
"Worse than the children?" John asked, eyeing the smallest body bags closely.
"He hit him with the iron and forced him to have sex with the body in the coffin," Warner whispered. "If that's not the sickest I've seen, then I may need to rethink my career choice."
"Well you're doing a fine job, Doctor," an agent said from behind her. She didn't respond to him: instead she turned around and continued examining the bodies and crime scene for clues. "So, John, did you hear about yesterday's victim?"
"I knew she was pass," John whispered, nodding quietly. The agent shook his head. "What do you mean by that?"
"She lived until he came into the hospital and beat her again. Then he came here, a mere ten minutes away. The funeral started at nine o'clock, and he was here right on time. He targeted everyone out here, then returned inside because he knew the pastor was missing," the agent explained. "I believe she already briefed you on that part of the story."
"She did, but...why is he killing? Why now at least?" Elliot asked. The agent gestured towards a small trailer. The five of them crammed themselves around the agent's desk.
"We've been watching two men that fit the latest descriptions. This one was a bust, though he resembles the man closely. This one is our guy," the agent said, hitting a key on his keyboard and pulling up a surveillance photograph. "When he caught my guys following him, he peed on their car, threw his cup at their windshield, and stormed off. He's been angry ever since."
"That explains the letter then," Fin said sternly before asking the agent to pull up the photograph of it. "All he talks about is how misunderstood he is. That's not him being insecure, that's his way of lashing out."
"When there's not a tire iron and a funeral around," Elliot said sarcastically, stepping back and crossing his arms.
"What I don't get are those victims he killed before: was he angry then, or just blowing off steam?" Olivia asked.
"Both," the agent replied. "That summer, one of his victims almost got away. He managed to control her with some good knotting of some electrical cable, but it still pissed him off. He targeted those three women because they were free-spirited, and he killed them because he could."
"But why didn't he kill other victims? More things have probably pissed him off over the years than a woman running or some detectives blowing his cover."
"Olivia's right. Have your guys looked for him in murder cases too or just the rapes?" Fin asked.
"I'll have them start, but that'll take days. Right now, I have a job for you: the press has caught wind of this, but...we're going to throw them some lies to keep this guy from doing it again. Elliot, here's your script. When they start asking questions, back away and come back," the agent directed. Elliot gave him a skeptical look.
"How is this going to work? We're here: that's enough for him," Elliot said sternly.
"It's the option my superiors gave to me. The other was to say nothing, but sixteen people are dead: we can't just leave them all out of the dark."
"I think I'd prefer that to lying to 'em," Fin whispered darkly. The agent looked to him with a strange expression.
"I agree with my men: it's nothing or the truth," John added, sticking up for his partners. The agent sighed.
"Majority rules then," he said quietly, putting the script back into his desk. He then looked back up to Munch. "As your team's leader, I'll let you decide whether or not to get back to work. My guys will send you the report when they're done, if that's what you prefer."
John, being a democratic leader, let his team decide. They all chose to return to the warehouse and continue examining files.
"Good," the agent nodded, walking them to their cars. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep Dr. Warner."
"That's fine with me," Melinda called from behind them, wheeling another body bag-filled gurney to an awaiting ambulance. "There are certain specimens I wish to collect anyway."
With everything settled, the detectives returned to the warehouse, their minds swimming with the details of the case.