The BAU jet touched down in Toronto a little under an hour and fifty minutes later, where they were met by Inspector Stainton, the man who had taken charge of the case out of Toronto's 52 division and had insisted on calling the FBI in. After a quick round of introductions, he led them to the vehicles the city had lent the team for the duration of their stay, heavy duty SUVs, and started to offer to lead them to 52's headquarters.
"Actually Inspector, I'd like Prentiss and I to take a look at the latest crime scene while Morgan and Reid head to the oldest. JJ and Rossi will accompany you to the station and begin getting set up, so if you could just give us directions to the scenes," Hotch interrupts.
Stainton blinks for a brief moment at the abrupt demands, but then a rueful smile flits across his face.
"Anything to help you guys out and catch these bastards. I'll have some of my officers lead you to the scenes; Agents Rossi and Jareau, if you'll follow me?"
Nods of agreement were exchanged and the BAU quickly split up.
Not much remained at the oldest scene but for gaudy streaks of dried blood that had been half cleaned by the city months back. Morgan and Reid didn't linger very long, simply doing a quick walk through before following the cruiser to 52's division headquarters to meet up with JJ and Rossi. They arrive at the station to find a conference room already set aside for their use and stacks of files already being unloaded by the eldest agent and media liaison.
The latest scene was a different story all together.
When Hotch and Emily first step through the doors of rundown building, they are both struck instantly with the stench of days old death. It seemed to seep from every inch of the structure, pooling along the floors and clawing its way up the walls were blood had sprayed and dried. As they pass into the open concept first floor, both of them are forced to stop and take a moment as they absorb the sight that greets them.
The amount of blood that paints the room gives them both chills; the story it tells is that of a massacre.
Emily takes a second to compartmentalize, carefully and cautiously storing the horror of the scene in a box in the back of her mind that will be opened at a more appropriate time to deal with. Now, it's more important to catch the Unsubs than it is to process her emotions. With her eyes closed, Emily exhales deeply, counts to five, and lets herself breathe again.
When she blinks her eyes back open, she meets Hotch's unwavering gaze. At first glance, it would appear his expression was unreadable.
But to Emily, Aaron Hotchner was an open book.
There was worry there, true, worry for her, for his team, for how they would be affect by this case. But underneath that was a very real rage, the rage of a father who had looked at pictures of slaughtered children and realized he'd been unable to help them. And as he stood among the wreckage, Emily can't help but compare him to an avenging angel.
Then she blinks again and the image is gone and she can't help the guilt that rises up within her for the picture.
"You okay?" Hotch murmurs.
Emily glances about them pointedly. "No. So let's get these fuckers."
This earns her the briefest twitch of the lips before they both split off, Emily taking the upstairs level and Hotch roaming about the first floor to take in any impressions of the place.
When they finally emerge, they don't say anything, letting their impressions ruminate in their minds as they follow the patrol car to re-join the rest of the team.
Arriving at the station, Hotch is pleased to see that his team has been hard at work; the board is fully updated with a timeline of the slaughters, everyone has a file open in front of them and are hard at work and Reid is staring at a map of the city, marker in hand, working hard at the geographical profile.
"Glad to see you folks are settling in okay," Inspector Stainton proclaims from the doorway, causing every head but Reid's to turn in his direction. Next to the tired Inspector is a new face; an average height, balding man dressed in slacks and a button up. What gives him away as a cop is his eyes; a warm hazel, they scan the room constantly and wearily.
"I think we have everything we need, thank you." Hotch nods once to Stainton and then focuses in on the man next to him.
"Well, BAU, this here is Sergeant Greg Parker from the Strategic Response Unit; his team were the first on scene at all of the incidents and they'll be arriving for those interviews shortly. Greg, these are SSAs Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Jareau and Dr. Reid," Stainton makes the introductions seamlessly, pointing out each of the FBI agents in turn.
Greg offers up a small wave before turning to Stainton.
"I'm going to call in the team; I imagine they want these interviews over with as soon as possible."
"Sure thing Greg, you can use my office."
The Sergeant nods once and slips out of the conference room.
"It shouldn't take long for the team to get here; I think they're all willing to offer as much help as possible."
"What's this Strategic Response Unit like?" JJ pipes up, intrigue plastered over her face.
"Well, this is Team One, so they're the best of the best. They're a little like a S.W.A.T team, but their focus is more on talking down a subject instead of shooting first, questions later."
"I'm interested to see their insight into this then," Emily says, thumbing her way through the Michigan file as she talks.
"They're a solid bunch that's for sure," Stainton checks his phone when it chirps. "I'll be back; if you folks need anything, just let an officer know."
Updated 10/29/15
