Disclaimer: Still don't own Criminal Minds
A/N: Thanks to all my faithful reviewers. You make me laugh, I love it!
"Why don't we go into the conference room," Hotch suggested, "And Fletcher can fill you in on what he told us and then we can sit down with a sketch artist."
Emily stood in the doorway of the conference room, looking meaningfully at Hotch. "Why don't we go to the break room first, I could use a cup of coffee." Hotch mouthed a silent thank you. Fletcher definitely did not need to see the photos on the white board. He'd already seen more than a child his age should.
The team and Chris Jansen gathered in the break room, poured coffee and sat down while Emily quickly got the pictures out of sight before joining the others. "Where are Reid and Fletcher," she asked on entering the room.
"They were right behind us I thought," Morgan answered her. "Maybe the kid had to go to the restroom."
"Okay, what kind of chocolate bar is your favorite," Reid asked as the tall man and small boy stood in front of the vending machine, scanning its vast selection.
"I like thnickers," the boy responded through his missing front tooth.
"Good choice," Reid said. "Two Snickers it is." Reid started pulling coins from the pocket of his beige cords and putting them in the machine. "Uh oh, looks like I'm short a quarter. Oh just a minute, hold still Fletcher." He reached behind Fletcher's ear and produced a quarter which he showed to the child. "Thanks Fletcher."
The boy's eyes widened, "Alright, how did you do that," he asked suspiciously?
"A magician never reveals his secrets." Reid replied with a grin, putting the last coin in the machine and pushing the selections.
"So you're a magician, huh," the boy stated.
"An amateur one," the profiler replied, handing the boy the candy bar. "Want a soda?" The boy nodded and the pair got sodas.
"I thought you were out of quarters," Fletcher said as they headed to the break room with their goodies.
"Ever been to a police station before," Reid asked, noticing the boy taking in all the activities. Fletcher shook his head.
"Who are those people," he asked as they passed a wall with rows of pictures.
"They're the past police chiefs and commissioners and those three at the top are the present ones." The boy nodded and Reid had to quickly pull him out of the way as two officers passed by with a man in cuffs who was struggling and swearing at his captors. Fletcher's eyes were like saucers. "We better get to the break room," Reid said, hoping their trek to the vending machines had not been a mistake.
Man and boy entered the break room together with their sodas and candy bars. "There you are," Morgan said, "We wondered where you'd gotten to."
"We decided we didn't want coffee, didn't we Fletcher?" The boy shook his head and scrunched up his face in distaste. Reid held up the soda and chocolate bar. "We went for the good stuff. But Fletcher," Reid stage whispered, "Watch that chocolate bar around Prentiss. She loves chocolate."
"Hey, I stole some of your M&Ms one time," Emily admitted as the youngster moved his Snickers bar a little closer. Reid looked at her, "Okay, so I took one finger of your Kit Kat bar. I didn't think you'd notice. And well, I thought that box of chocolates that old lady gave you in Boston was for everyone."
"Probably the phenylethylamine," Fletcher told Reid, who nodded.
"Phenyl what," Morgan asked?
Phenylethylamine, it's one of the B endorphins, a mood elevator. It's found in chocolate and some other foods," Fletcher explained as the adults gaped at the little tyke who threw out words bigger than he was.
"I know," Emily said, looking at Reid, "Peas!"
"Yeah, and also apples, tomatoes and almonds," Fletcher added. "So chocolate covered almonds are twice as powerful."
"I love chocolate covered almonds," JJ and Emily said together.
Reid and Fletcher looked at each other, "Definitely the phenylethylamine," they said together.
"Let's take our coffee to the conference room," Rossi suggested, shaking his head, and everyone followed him into the room which featured a round table much like the one in Quantico, surrounded by eight swivel chairs upholstered in beige tweed. There was a window covered with blinds that were open but no curtains. To the left of the window stood a huge bulletin board which was covered with a large map of San Francisco in which Reid had stuck different colored pins, designating where the prostitutes were last seen and where the bodies were found, in an effort to construct a geographic profile. The room also contained a television with a video and DVD player and the white board that was now devoid of all the victim photographs.
"Fletcher," Hotch said, "Why don't you tell the other agents what you told us."
Fletcher repeated his observations to the three agents and when he was done Rossi said, "That was very detailed."
"Thanks, I'm taught to always be as accurate as possible."
Hotch picked up the phone, "Could you send the sketch artist in please." They waited for a few minutes and Fletcher and Reid used the time to chew happily on their candy bars.
At the knock on the door, Morgan rose and admitted a chubby middle aged black woman who said her name was Officer Millie Jackson. She was dressed in the uniform of the SFPD, her hair fell to her shoulders in corn row braids. She had a warm smile and a calm way about her, which Morgan thought probably made her perfect at drawing details out of witnesses. She was introduced to Fletcher and she asked him to close his eyes and picture the face and tell her about it. As the boy spoke Millie drew on her pad. She stopped him after a while and covered up everything but the eyes and asked Fletcher to look at them.
"They need to be closer together," the boy stated succinctly. Millie redrew the eyes closer together and Fletcher inspected them and said they were right. They continued like this for the other features of the face until the face was acceptable to Fletcher.
"Okay," Millie said, "Now the hair. What color was it.?"
"It was dark with bangs in the front, about down to the shoulders and curly." Millie drew hair and again showed it to the boy. "No, it was curlier, puffier." Millie added more volume and curl to the hair and Fletcher agreed that it looked right. Millie did some tweaking and some fine definition and asked Fletcher to close his eyes again. The boy did so and Millie put the pad in front of her facing him.
"Open your eyes." Fletcher opened his eyes and looked at Millie's rendition of the woman he'd seen.
"Oh yeah, that's her alright."
"Okay Fletcher, what was the lady that took the other lady wearing," Morgan asked?
"You can say prostitute Agent Morgan. I know what it means. Prostitute," the boy recited as if from the dictionary, "To offer, as a woman, to a lewd use," he finished. "They were both wearing the same kind of clothes, short skirts and tops that, you know, came kind of low in front."
"Fletcher," Hotch said, "I think that's it. If we need anything more, we'll be in touch, okay. Thank you very much for calling the tip line. Mr. Jansen will take you home."
The boy and the lawyer stood and made their way to the door. Fletcher waved back at the agents, "Bye, good luck with catching that lady." Chris Jansen bid the team good bye as well and they closed the door behind them.
Rossi sat looking at the sketch. "Great, now we've got a woman unsub when we never even considered a woman. What's her motive? We're looking at the face of our killer and we're no further ahead."
"At least she has no idea we're on to her and she's probably feeling safe. That's one good thing," Emily remarked.
Vern Caruthers finished his daily column just in time for the morning edition and headed for the elevator as the paper went to print.
The San Francisco Chronicle
Crime Watch
Byline Vern Caruthers
Are the feebs from the BAU finally getting somewhere in the investigation into the deaths of five prostitutes in our city. This reporter was in the precinct when Unit Chief, SSA Aaron Hotchner arrived with a small boy and an attorney. They met in the conference room and a few minutes later requested a sketch artist. Officer Millicent Jackson, well known in the precinct for her ability to work with children, was dispatched, leading this reporter to wonder if progress has been made in the investigation. The FBI and SFPD refused to comment.
