Taplin's House
Reid and JJ stop in the Taplin's driveway behind the blue car that belongs to Mrs. Taplin. JJ knocks gently on the door and watches through the glass window as a women saunters up to the door. They can hear the click of locks being undone.
JJ flips open her badge and holds it up for the woman to see after she opens the door a crack, "Hi, I'm FBI agent Jennifer Jareau, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid." He pulls his hand out of his pocket, giving a small wave and half smile.
Mrs. Taplin peers out through the small opening. Reid and JJ can hear her shaky breaths and notice her lack of eye contact. The one time they see her eyes, red and puffy; they immediately can tell that she has been crying.
She cries no more, however; instead she spits her words out, "What's wrong with you people? You think you can just barge in here whenever you feel like it?"
"We're sorry, Mrs. Taplin, but we wouldn't be here if it wasn't important." JJ tries to reason with her.
"What are you talking about?"
"May we come in?" JJ asks.
Mrs. Taplin's face remains stony, as if waiting for an explanation for their visit right then and there.
JJ adds in a final attempt, "We're only trying to help."
Reid's foot gets caught in the door as she tries to shut them out, "Mrs. Taplin. I brought this back for you." He pulls the pink diary out of his bag.
She cautiously sticks her hand out as Reid moves it closer to her. The second her fingers touch it, she snatches the journal. Mrs. Taplin has to open the door wider to fit the journal through. She clutches it to her chest, rocking on her heels.
"Mrs. Taplin. All we want to do is find your daughter's killer before he kills more innocent people. But we need your help." Spencer pleads.
Mrs. Taplin leaves the door and ambles away. Reid takes it as an invitation to enter and follows her into the shabby living room. Used Kleenexes litter the floor and the loveseat that Mrs. Taplin occupies. She gestures for them to sit on the long couch across from her.
Her voice is raspy, but calmer than before, "What's this about?"
Reid looks to JJ, but realizes that this is his lead, "It's about your daughter's diary. About what's written in it."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever read it?" Spencer inquires.
"No, she told me she needed her privacy, and I didn't question it. She was like any other teenage girl." Her grip on the book in her arms tightens before she asks the question, "Why? What is written in it?"
Reid bites his lip, and thankfully JJ pipes up, "We believe that your daughter was pregnant."
"What?" Mrs. Taplin's voice sounds weak, "That's not possible."
"Why not?" JJ questions, her voice soft.
"Because I would have known if my baby girl was pregnant. She would have told me." Mrs. Taplin insists.
"In her diary, she mentions that she could feel something moving around inside of her. That was about ten months before she was killed. There's one entry that she didn't date and ripped out. It's as if she didn't want anyone to know what day it was from. In that entry she talks about how she wishes she hadn't done it, but said that it was for the best." Reid explains.
"And you think all of that means that she was pregnant?" She gives him a skeptical glance.
"She also mentions that she hasn't had her period in months." JJ blurts.
Mrs. Taplin looks like she finally believes them, "Do you think I have a grandchild out there somewhere?"
"Maybe." JJ responds.
"You didn't notice her belly getting round or anything?" Reid says.
"No…I didn-" Her face seems to lighten, but becomes darker almost immediately after, "She was gone for a little more than eight months with Roy. They were traveling throughout the U.S." Mrs. Taplin covers her mouth with her hand. "You don't think that…?"
"I'm really sorry." JJ reaches her hand forward, grasping Mrs. Taplin's.
Her eyes glisten with tears and her chest begins to heave with the wave of tears crashing over her. When she finally seems all cried out, JJ promises that if her grandchild is still alive, they will find it.
They step outside of the house after handing her their card and expressing their condolences for her loss.
Reid calls up Garcia, "Hey Garcia. Can you look for any adoption paperwork under Marianne Taplin? We believe that she had a child."
Garcia cracks her fingers and begins to type on her keyboard. "There's nothing in her home state."
"Can you widen the search to statewide?"
"I can do that, but it's going to take some time."
"Okay, thanks Garcia." Reid disconnects.
….
Evinns's House
Mrs. Evinns answers the door and covers her mouth with her hand. Her voice is muffled, "Did you find them?"
"May we come in?" Hotch drops his gaze to the floor.
"Are they dead?" Tears fill her eyes and start to drip down her cheeks, rolling off her chin and hitting the ground.
"Who's there, Mary?" Her husband comes out of the kitchen.
Mary turns and shakes her head, collapsing into his arms. He cradles her, patting her back and whispering words of comfort. Words completely lost on Mrs. Evinns. She allows herself to be led away by her husband, who returns moments later.
"You're sure it's them."
"If we weren't, we wouldn't be here." Hotch murmurs.
"Can I-" His voice breaks, "Can I see them?"
Prentiss shakes her head, "We can't authorize that."
"They're my family. I should be allow-"
"Mr. Evinns. This isn't our decision. Their bodies are still being processed by our medical examiner." Hotch speaks up.
"Oh, so now you're processing them like you process meat?" Mr. Evinns advances on Hotch, who doesn't flinch.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Mr. Evinns. Let's take a walk. Okay?" Prentiss throws her arm around his shoulders and directs him into the kitchen.
"What do you think?" Rossi asks Hotchner.
He pulls Rossi aside before answering, "I think he's a dad, horrified and upset about what happened to his family."
"He blames us."
"I'd blame us too if I were in his position. Right now we need to focus and find this guy before he takes any more lives." Hotch turns on his heel, mind set on catching this psychopath.
….
Metropolitan Police Station
"We believe we are looking for a white male in his late twenties or early thirties. He is physically fit and drives a black car." Hotchner steps forward, addressing the assembly of police officers.
"He's sadistic. He doesn't get off on sexually assaulting his victims; instead he gets a rush from the physical beatings." Morgan folds his hands in his lap.
"A rush that he feels only when he beats and kills his victims. Meaning that he won't stop until he's caught." Reid presses his lips together.
"The way the beatings take place, with the victims restrained, and the letters he forces them to write suggest that he needs to feel powerful. In some aspect of his life he may feel powerless or unappreciated and he exerts that built up rage toward his victims." Prentiss walks around, waving her arms around.
"This could be in a workplace or within his own family." Rossi's mouth barely moves as he speaks.
"Wait, you think this guy could have a family?" One of the officers raises his hand.
"We do believe that it's a possibility." Hotchner nods.
"If there's a possibility that he has a family, then we need to find him before he kills his own family." The same officer stands up, ready to take action.
"I understand that you want to catch this guy, and that's what our profile's for, however we don't believe that his intention would be to kill his own family-if he had one."
"And why not? He's already killed two other families!" He points at Hotchner, his voice rising and finger shaking.
Will takes Hotch's silence as his cue to attend to his officer. He grabs his officer's shoulder and steers him away. The officer looks back at Hotchner over his other shoulder and sneers, "How would you feel if it was your family?"
Hotchner's eyes narrow at the officer, who raises his eyebrows as if daring Hotchner to respond. Before he can retort, the door slams shut behind the officers.
"This is a preliminary profile, so don't rule someone out because they don't fit all of the profile. If they fit most or even some, we should be informed immediately." Hotch finally says after a long awkward silence, during which they waited for Will's return.
"We think this man has a secondary location where he keeps his victims." Prentiss's eyes scan the crowd.
"The place we're looking for has a basement or a cellar where he keeps them. It's probably secluded or on the outskirts of town." Morgan points to the map, specifically around the edges of Reid's two circles, indicating the possible location.
"We also believe that he works a daytime job, is self-employed, or is unemployed due to the fact that he kidnaps and dumps at night." Reid adds.
"You should consider this man armed and highly dangerous. I advise officers to be extremely cautious and to travel in pairs. Thank you." Hotchner stands up, dismissing everyone.
The officers disperse, folding up their notepads, and stowing them in their pockets.
...
The Basement
The light that dangles from the ceiling flickers, creating shadows a few seconds at a time and then plunging the room into darkness.
Another couple is pushed roughly down the steep steps; the wife slips and lands in a heap at the bottom and the husband rushes to her side.
A man towers above them, a smile curling on his lips. The wife scrambles to her feet with help from her husband.
"Over there." His rough voice says. He points his gun to a chair that's barely visible in the darkened basement.
The wife walks carefully to the seat, following a trail on the ground. She doesn't realize what the trail is until seeing the red-speckled chair. Her mouth widens and her breath catches in her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she sees her husband walking the opposite way. The wife can hear her husband cooperating and being tied up.
A hand is placed delicately on her shoulder, before he shoves her into the chair. She yelps as her back hits the armrest, and whimpers the whole time he secures the wire around her wrists.
"Shut up!" He bangs his fist on the armrest of the chair, causing it to shake violently. His sudden shout only makes her whimper louder. The backhand blow to her face comes unexpectedly and she quiets down.
He pulls out an object and holds it under her noise. Through her blurred vision, she notices that it's a phone, more specifically her phone, and the contact that's pulled up is her mother.
"What do you want?" She meets his eyes.
"You should call her. Let her know that your dinner plans for tomorrow," The man stops, and pushes her hair behind her ear with his gun, before whispering, "are cancelled."