I got the DNA swab from Adam and drove to the Pittsburgh PD as fast as the streets and speed limits would allow me to drive. While we were on the way, I got Garcia on the phone.
"Oracle of the FBI, speak mortal," came the voice.
"Garcia, I need you to do something for me," I said.
"Name it."
"I need to flag a cell phone and credit cards for Kathleen Susan Herrera."
"It shall be done, but can I ask why?"
"She's missing." There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.
"We'll find her, Bay," Garcia said. As my mind registered her new nickname for me, I smiled.
"'Bay'? I like it," I said.
"I shall alert you at the first sign of activity," Garcia replied, a smile in her voice.
"You rock, Garcia," I said.
"I know," she quipped, and hung up. The rest of the drive took me about 5 minutes. When we pulled in, I jumped out of the car and was at the door before Reid could even shut his door.
"Amelia, slow down!" I barely heard him call to me. I was too nervous to slow down, though. For all I knew, there would soon be another body and it may just be my best friend. I ran in to the precinct and almost threw Adam's DNA sample at the first tech that I saw.
"Make sure this is on file and run it against the bodies we've found," I said, speaking a mile a minute. She nodded and walked off briskly to do her job. I didn't recognize her, I realized after she had walked off. For the first time, I stopped and looked around. To my surprise, there were only a few faces that I didn't recognize. A few officers stopped and said hi to me and congratulated me on my new position. I thanked them quickly before they bustled off. The whole precinct was buzzing. It seemed like the whole force was on the case. I half expected everyone to be in one place, but it was the exact opposite.
Morgan was talking to two officers that I remembered to be John Coles and Jerry McDonald. Jerry was in his early 40s and bald with dark brown eyes and John was in his mid-30s with bright red hair and green eyes. They generally were in charge of drug busts. JJ was as the front desk, putting together what I guessed was the beginnings of her press release with Karla Burkett, the publicist for the precinct, though the boys called her the mother of the station. There were female officers, but Karla was the oldest of the women – young at 52 - and had been there the longest. The experience showed in her graying black hair and knowing dark blue eyes. Prentiss was on the phone back in the conference room, most likely with Garcia back in Quantico, and Hotch was nowhere to be seen. My guess? He was talking with my dad.
"Wow, it's busy in here," Reid said from my right side. He had just cleared the front desk with his FBI ID. Marissa, the girl who was at the front desk at the time, knew who I was and normally just let me walk in.
"I don't think I've ever seen it this busy," I commented.
"We'd better get started," Reid said, and headed to where Prentiss was talking on her cell phone. I was just about to follow him when a new officer stopped me.
"Agent Baylock, Sergeant Baylock would like to see you," he said, his manner official. I inwardly smiled at the formalities. "If you could follow me," he began, but I stopped him.
"I know where his office is, but thank you, Officer…?" I said, looking for a nametag on his uniform.
"Kerchinski. Officer Ed Kerchinski, ma'am," he said.
"Kerchinski. Again, thank you," I smiled. He smiled back and went on his way. I headed back to the office that I knew all to well. Sure enough, Chief Sam Wilson and my father were standing there. Sam was in his late 40s. His full head of hair was combed back and already grey and his eyes were blue and had many stories to tell. Despite all of that, he was physically fit. My father, Joe, was just into his 40s and balding, though his hair was still dark brown. His green eyes looked tired, but most likely from no sleep over the past few days.
"Welcome home, Doc," Sam said, a small smile on his face. He had started calling me that when I graduated with my Masters Degree from Ball State University.
"Thanks, Sam," I said. "I wish this were a social visit."
"So do I," my dad said. "I'm still glad you're home, though."
"Yeah, me too, Dad. Hotch," I turned to my supervisor. "Adam just told me that Kathleen never reported for duty."
"What? Adam's girl?" dad asked.
"Yeah, I just came from his house. He told me," I replied.
"Have Garcia," Hotch began.
"Flag her credit cards and cell phone? Already did," I said. Hotch looked at me for a minute, then simply nodded and continued.
"Do we have anything else on the bodies that we found?" he asked Sam. Sam picked up two folders on his desk and handed them to Hotch, who handed one to me. It was the autopsy reports for the two dead teachers.
"COD is strangulation. The cuts are postmortem, and other than that and their jobs they had nothing to do with each other." I read out.
"Get these to Prentiss and Reid. JJ and Morgan can read them when they're done with…whatever it is that they're doing," Hotch said, handing me his file.
"I'll get Marissa to make copies of these," I said, taking the file from him. Hotch nodded and turned back to my Dad and Sam. I tried to act as professional as I could, but my mind was in turmoil. I was surprised that it was letting me think straight. We had a possible serial killer in my hometown, he or she was targeting my family, and now my best friend was missing. I had to consider the possibility that she was AWOL, but that thought quickly left my head. Kathleen would never do that, and I knew it. Marissa had those copies in my hands within minutes and I was passing out the autopsy to the rest of the team. As I did, Morgan grabbed my arm.
"Hey, you okay kid?" he asked quietly. "You look a little pissed."
"I'm fine, Morgan," I said, a little too quickly. He gave me the skeptical don't-try-to-trick-the-profiler look. I looked around and the rest of the team was looking at me with the same look. I sighed in defeat, realizing that I shouldn't try to conceal my emotions. "I'll talk about it later," I said as Hotch came into the room with my dad and Sam. The three men looked at me, Hotch with some mild concern that was masked behind his professionalism, Sam with some confusion, and my Dad with thinly veiled worry. I managed a half-hearted smile before Hotch started talking.
"Alright, so what do we have?"
"The victims had already been dead for about two days, but they had been in the river for about a day. It was long enough for the water to wash away any DNA evidence on either bodies," Prentiss began.
"It's been rainy lately, so the currents have sped up on the rivers," Dad pointed out.
"That should cut the time in the water by about a third," Reid said, looking at a topographical map of Pittsburgh and the surrounding area.
"So, we're looking at about 8 hours or so, but the body wasn't discovered until yesterday, so it's possible that the body could have been in the water but just sitting under the bridge at the dump site," I said.
"Was there anything else unique about the body?" Morgan asked Sam.
"They did find a cement block tied to the body so that it wouldn't move more than a few feet," Sam replied.
"Were there any tire tracks?" Hotch asked.
"No, nothing like that," Dad said.
"Okay, Reid and Rossi, head down to the crime scene and take a look around. Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to start interviewing the neighbors around the area to see if they heard anything like a boat or something early in the morning. Baylock, I want you to stay with me and start working the victimology. Alright, let's move," Hotch ordered. Everyone nodded and those who were leaving grabbed a jacket or bag and walked out. I turned to my copy of the autopsy report, sat down, and started scrutinizing over everything. My mind started working in double time.
Okay, so they were both strangled. There were marks around the victims' necks so that means that there were no fingerprints, not that there would be anyway. As I looked at the photos, I noticed something different about the bodies. Zolinski's neck had a crossed mark on her neck, while Cornwall had a straight line, and Cornwall's was deeper and had cut the skin. I grabbed both pictures of their necks and stuck them on the pegboard that held a map of Pittsburgh, other pictures of the crime scene and victims, along with some notes about them – what they did, how they died, where they were found, etc. I stuck the pictures of their necks underneath their respective pictures of when they were alive and looked at them.
"You have something?" Hotch asked.
"Yeah, look at these ligature marks," I said, pointing to either picture. Hotch got up and stood beside me. "Zolinski was strangled from the front while Cornwall was strangled from behind, and by someone much stronger."
"The MO is too different. The first victim…the unsub wanted to watch her die. The second victim was strangled from behind and much harder, probably to kill her faster. Sarah Cornwall was killed with remorse, while Jane Zolinski was not. We're looking at two unsubs."
