Author's Notes: I decided that since I've finally given myself a time line for solving this case, the least I could do was update.
Disclaimer: Still not mine, still in the broom closet. He has to go home sometime, right??
**
Over the next two days, the family members of the rest of the victims trickled in, all of them clutching a letter. Every one of them was bagged, photographed, and sent to the lab to test for hairs, fibres, fingerprints, and DNA. Everything came back negative.
"This is ridiculous," Wyn said on Friday night, tossing the evidence bag on the table lightly. "We have absolutely nothing that might lead us to this guy."
"Let's go through it again," Hotch pushed. "These victims didn't go to the same medical school, nor would they have graduated in the same year."
"Their medical Ids were stolen, but the driver's licenses were left behind. That suggests he only took them as souvenirs, and not in an attempt to delay the identification of the body." Dave said, his voice belaying his frustration and boredom.
"All of the families received identical letters in the mail," Emily picked up. "If they were married or involved, the letter was sent to their wife or girlfriend. If not, then it was sent to their parents."
"He knows we're here, and he knows we'd be canvassing the area around the crime scenes," Derek added. "He's probably been watching us."
"We have Garcia going over the applications from the various medical schools our victims attended, looking for anyone with previous experience who wasn't accepted or someone who dropped out early on," JJ held up her phone. "I'm waiting to hear back."
Spencer was quiet in his chair beside Wyn, thinking over everything. He was just starting to feel a headache coming on when JJ's blackberry rang, shaking him from his reverie.
"It's about time you moved," Wyn said from the corner of her mouth. "I was beginning to think you were going to stroke out through sheer force of will."
He shook his head good naturedly at her, turning his attention to Garcia, who was babbling through the speakerphone.
"Okay, my intrepid investigators, I have here the lists of application and admissions from Georgetown, Washington, Virginia, and Maryland. I am cross referencing anyone who listed previous medical experience on their application and was denied, and anyone who wasn't accepted flat out. This leaves us with...fifteen hundred names."
"Eliminate the females, and anyone who was choosing medicine as a second career," Hotch ordered.
"Ay ay sir, and that leaves us with...eight hundred names."
"Wait!" Spencer sat up straight in his seat. "Look for anyone who had their identification stolen from them on or near the paths where the victims were killed."
"Huh?" Garcia asked.
"He takes their medical school ID...maybe that's not a souvenir; maybe it's to replace his own."
"Unbelievable, Boy Genius has done it again," they heard keys tapping furiously. "In 2007 a medical student was attacked on the bike path during rush week—he was tied to a tree and his university ID was burned up and placed on his chest to sear it there. He spent six months recovering from his wounds and receiving skin grafts to repair his chest."
"What's his name Garcia?" Hotch interrupted.
"Gregory. Winston Gregory. His address is uploading to JJ's phone now."
"Suit up, people, let's go get him." Morgan said, following Emily out to get the Kevlar vests.
Wyn and Riley left the room at a run to grab their vests and jackets from their lockers. They met the FBI team outside next to their SUV. They were all cocking their guns and holstering back up ammunition, 'FBI' blazing proudly across their bulletproof vests.
"Ready?" Riley asked, coming up to Hotch. The stoic agent nodded, going over to the driver's side of one of the SUVs.
"Let's go—we'll go in first and then you and Ballantine follow. Understood?"
"Yeah, let's do this."
**
They pulled up in front of Winston Gregory's brick bungalow about twenty minutes later. After some slight organization errors, it was finally decided that JJ, Dave, and Morgan would ride with Hotch, while Emily and Spencer drove with Wyn and Riley.
Morgan knocked down the door, Hotch and Prentiss on his tail. Dave and Riley went around one side of the house toward the back yard, and Spencer and Wyn went around the other. They heard Morgan's yell seconds before a man clad in dirty jeans and a white thermal shirt crashed through the screen door in the back of the house and made a mad dash for the back fence.
"FBI, FREEZE!" Dave yelled, pointing his gun at the suspect's retreating back. Gregory didn't stop. Just as he reached the fence, Riley and Wyn appeared from opposite sides of the tree line. Wyn grabbed him by the belt and dragged him off the fence and on to the ground. Riley turned him over and pinned him to the ground, cuffing him with the bracelets Wyn offered.
"You wanna make the collar?" Riley called over Gregory's wriggling head. Morgan, Hotch and Emily stepped out of the wrecked screen door and walked the dozen yards or so between the house and the fence.
"It's yours," Morgan replied. Riley nodded, sitting the suspect up on his knees and then slowly raised him to his feet, sliding the cuffs around Gregory's wrists.
"Winston Gregory, you are under arrest for the murders of Daniel Spencer, Todd Chapter, Tyler Jacobs, Leo Redgrave, James Wilson and Patrick Shaunessey. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." Riley and Wyn led him to the car. "You have the right to an attourney. If you cannot afford an attourney one will be appointed for you."
**
Riley, Hotch, Dave and JJ took Winston Gregory down to the station; JJ was holding a press conference out front to tell the press that the Georgetown police, with the help of the FBI, had caught a serial killer that was at large in the area.
Spencer, Wyn, Emily and Morgan stayed at the crime scene to watch the crime scene technicians go through the house. Emily and Morgan had gone inside to profile the killer's home; Wyn was going to follow them, but Spencer stopped her.
"What the hell were you doing back there?"
"What?" Wyn furrowed her brow.
"Jumping in and stopping Gregory like that. We didn't know if he was armed, he could have hit you, he could have shot you, stabbed you? What would have happened to Camille if you'd been hurt—or worse?" Spencer was having trouble keeping his voice down.
Wyn sighed. "Okay, you have a valid point. But we...we'd tried so hard to get this guy... I couldn't just let him get away. Not this guy. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to me. But the important thing is, nothing happened to me."
"This time." Spencer replied.
"This time," she agreed with a sigh. "But, let's focus on the future, shall we? Tomorrow's Sunday." Wyn held out one of her business cards with a handwritten address on the back. "Be there by five; Camille doesn't like to be late."
Author's Notes: So, no more posts til after boxing day—but I SO still want reviews!! Also, please pass on my future Buffy fic to any fans of the Slayer—sometimes they're hard to find, since Buffy is so old. Loves, thank you!