Prentiss caught a ride with Reus to the latest murder scene. He seems like a nice guy and pretty happy to have extra help on the case. He knew none of them would get much sleep as quickly as this guy was striking. The sooner they caught him the better all around.
"How long have you been a cop?" Prentiss asks.
"Better side of 20 years if you count my time as an MP."
She smiles and nods. "I most definitely would. Marines?"
"How'd you know?"
"Haircut."
He laughs and runs a hand through what little hair is on his head. "Guess that's part of the whole profiler, thing, eh?"
She nods. "Yep." She bites her lip a minute then goes ahead and asks the question bothering her. "What's it like working with Greenaway? Is she always so…rude when help is being offered?"
He sighs. "I won't pretend you don't know she was once on your team. Normally she's okay with task forces, has even led a few due to her time at the FBI. I think having your team called in has just thrown her for a loop." He looks at Emily briefly. "She'll come around once she gets her feet back under her."
"I hope so," Emily replies, thinking about the shaken look in JJ's eyes.
When they arrive on the scene, they show their badges to the officers guarding the site and head towards the body. This former Santa lies in an alley behind a toy store of all places. His once white beard is burgundy with the blood that had gushed from his slit throat. Emily stares at him from several angles before squatting near his head. She uses her pen to ease the beard enough away to see the death gash. She sighs and stands.
"He's getting better. No immediate signs of hesitation. Looks like a clean slice this time. Granted, the beard is still hiding a lot but I'd say our unsub is progressing."
"That's not good, is it?" Reus asks rhetorically.
She looks at the building. "Where were the other Santa's found?"
Reus checks his PDA. "Thursday: a petting zoo parking lot. Friday: local outdoor ice rink drainage area. Saturday: Candy store alley. Sunday: UPS store loading dock. And now today the back alley of a toy store."
Emily raises an eyebrow. "Can we assume the petting zoo has reindeer?"
"I can make a call. Why?"
"This guy isn't just targeting Santa, he's targeting Christmas in general. Toys, ice skating, candy, packages…all things associated with Christmas time." She pulls out her phone and hits a button. "Hotch? I think there's more we can add to the profile and for Garcia to use in her searches."
Reus lets Emily talk and takes the time to walk the scene. A bit of graffiti catches his eye. He walks over and looks at it. Pulling out his PDA he starts to flip through some pictures from previous crime scenes. His eyes widen.
"Holy shit…he's been taking to us." He spins around. "Prentiss! Come here!"
Emily disconnects with Hotch and jogs over to Reus. "What?"
"Hotch said earlier this guy is on a mission, he's going to try to contact us to justify what he's doing?"
"Yeah."
"He's already talking to us. Look!"
He points to the graffiti on the wall. Emily stares at it a moment, then shrugs. "I don't get it."
He hands her his PDA. "Flip through the three pictures I've tagged."
She does. Her eyes see what he's seeing. She looks back to the wall. It has to be the same man. The stylization is the same. But the meaning behind the pictures is as yet an enigma.
"Take a picture of this one. Then send all of those to our analyst. We need to know if this guy has hit before. Plus she can put these things into one of her programs to see if their meaning can be deduced."
He nods and does as directed. Emily keeps staring at the pictogram, trying to get it to make sense. She finally shakes her head. Maybe by putting them together they can start to see the meaning emerge. She pulls out her phone again.
"Reid? You at the precinct yet? Okay, well when you finish your geographic profile, get with Garcia. This guy's been tagging his scenes. I feel like I should see something in the images he sent. Our minds are scary alike sometimes. Maybe you'll see what I'm missing." She listens a moment then chuckles. "Yes, just like a Vulcan mind meld. But don't you dare tell Jen."
She smiles as she hangs up. She walks back over to Reus. "Mind a trip to the morgue? I'd like to get a look at the bodies they still have."
"Whatever floats your boat, Agent," he answers amiably.
As Garcia gets Emily's graffiti search going, another search ends. She grimaces, knowing it contains too many hits to be helpful. Hopefully someone can help her narrow the parameters a bit. She dials Hotch.
"What do you have, Garcia?"
"A scary big bunch of names. You don't want to know how many kids were abused by Santa Claus. Do you all have anything more that can help me narrow this list—uh, hold on another search just ended." Hotch hears her tapping the keys and then hears the stunned intake of breath. "Oh my God. Um, Hotch, I think this guy killed before. Only that time, it was clowns."
"Clowns? In Seattle?"
"No. San Diego. Hold on let me just…yep, there it is. Fifteen clowns killed in a two month period last summer. Another 10 assaulted. And I'm looking at the crime scene pics for two of the deaths and I see the graffiti."
"Graffiti? What graffiti?" Garcia fills him in on Reus' find. "In fact, adding the graffiti to the search helped flag these cases. One of the detectives down there noticed the tags where each body was found and noted them."
"Good job, Garcia. Send us everything you have on the San Diego case. Keep searching for like crimes. Oh, and, Garcia, take a cookie out of the jar for a job well done," he says with a grin.
She smiles proudly. "Thank you, Sir. One Hotchlate chip cookie coming up!"
He laughs and shakes his head as he hangs up the phone. "Reid, I may need you and Morgan to head to San Diego. Garcia is sending the info now."
"Okay. But first come look at this, Hotch." Hotch walks over to the map with Reid's geographic profile on it. "Do you see the pattern emerging here?"
Hotch stares at the dots. Red for deaths. Blue for assaults. Yellow marking where the Santa's worked. Finally he shakes his head. "I'm not seeing it, Reid."
Reid starts to connect the dots with a green marker: yellow to red to yellow to blue in order of the attacks. Suddenly Hotch's mind puts it together. "You've got to be kidding me."
The pattern is starting to resemble a Christmas tree. And the tree is nearly complete. "We need to get a map of San Diego," Hotch states. Reid just nods.
"Mr. Callahan? I'm Detective Elle Greenaway. This is Agent Derek Morgan. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the man that attacked you."
The man looks down. "Not sure what more I could tell you. I told the cops everything I could remember."
"Sir, I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI. We ask different kinds of questions," Morgan explains. "Sometimes they can elicit answers or evoke memories to give us more information."
Callahan studies the two law enforcement officers. Finally he shrugs. "Whatever." He opens his door further and allows them to enter his home. Morgan looks around, profiling the man by his decorations, or lack there of. This was not a man with money. His furniture was threadbare and falling apart. His collection of empty beer cans, however, was impressive.
He doesn't offer the officers a seat, plopping down on the couch and opening another beer. Elle and Morgan exchange a look. Elle swallows her revulsion and sits down on the edge of the armchair.
"Mr. Callahan, I need you to think about what you were doing just before you were attacked."
"I was catching a smoke," he blurts out. He looks at Morgan. "Didn't she read the damn report?"
"Yes, sir, she did. She just needs to start at the beginning and walk you through everything once more," he explains.
Elle rolls her eyes and begins again. "Sir, just before you were attacked you were smoking. Did you hear anything while you were standing there?"
He thinks a moment, then shakes his head. He takes another swig of beer. Elle knows she better hurry with the questions or he may be too drunk to answer correctly. "Okay. Did you smell anything unusual?"
"Detective, I was by the dumpsters. I smelled a lot of shit that was unusual."
Elle's shoulders slump. "Of course." She looks at Morgan, offering him the chance to try to get something out of the man.
Morgan steps in front of Callahan. "Did you go to the same place for your break every time?"
"Yeah. It was the closest place to the Santa Village."
"Had you noticed anyone strange either inside near the exit you used or around the area outside?"
"Nah. I kinda ignored people if I could. If you had parents yelling at you and kids screaming and peeing and smacking you all day, you'd ignore people, too.
Morgan chuckles. "I think you're right. When you were attacked, what was the first thing your assailant said to you?"
"He said, 'You won't lie to any more kids.' Then he grabbed my beard," the man rubs his now clean shaven chin. "Fucker said, 'At least this isn't a lie' and I was getting ready to tell him to screw off when he started clubbing me with one of them things cops carry."
"A nightstick?" Elle confirms.
"Yeah. When I woke up my beard was gone. I called the cops 'cause he beat me pretty good. Figure I might have a good chance at suing the mall for their lack of security."
Morgan fights the urge to roll his eyes. This guy is just looking for a payday. "Is there anything else he may have said or did or wore that sticks out for you?"
Callahan shrugs his shoulders disinterestedly. "Nope. He just…wait a minute…he had a black eye. I remember thinking it served the bastard right."
"Okay. That could be helpful, Mr. Callahan. If you think of anything else that could help us find this guy, please give us a call," Elle states, handing him her business card.
"You think I could get a copy of your reports on all this? Might help my lawsuit."
"Your lawyer will take care of that," Elle says with disgust.
She and Morgan leave the house rather quickly. The follow up interview had been mostly a bust. "At least we can add the black eye to the profile released to the news. Other than that Callahan was a complete bust," Elle gripes.
"Yeah," Morgan agrees. "Were the other living victims any help?"
"Not really. They all pretty much had the same situation. Went out for a smoke or just to get away from people. Basically ignored someone approaching them because they were tired of dealing with parents."
"So this guy appears unthreatening. Until they are hit they have no trepidation, no instinctual worry. He's not angry until he starts the beating. That's some major control of his emotions. Most people can sense when someone is angry or intending to do harm. The old fight or flight reflexes kick in. But he hides his intentions and his emotions so well, keeps them so cloaked no one has a chance to feel fear until too late."
"That's one controlled sociopath," Elle notes.
Morgan nods. "We need to get back to the station. We may be close to being able to complete the profile."