Chapter 7: Wednesday (Part 1)

Disclaimer: Look up pictures of Jeff David, Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan. …congratulations, you still don't know what I look like, because I am not a show creator. (And by the way, the University of Rochester study Reid mentions in this chapter is real.)

Please remind yourself of the warnings in Chapter 1.

12:40pm

As she pulled into the parking lot, Mai Yang knew she only had a few minutes before she had to go back to work, but the owner of her favorite vintage clothing shop had told her he'd have a new box of clothes out in the store on Wednesday. All thoughts of a new dress or strappy shoes were forgotten when she saw the boy lying on the pavement. He was wearing some kind of school uniform she'd seen around town before, and there was blood everywhere. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed 911 and grabbed the emergency first aid kit her boyfriend insisted she have in the car at all times.

She poked her head in the clothing store and called to the owner, "Someone's been beaten up in the parking lot!" The owner went to get the people working at the other shops on the block as Mai knelt next to the boy. "Are you OK?" Mai asked, then realized how inane that was. "Can you hear me? …he's not responding," she told the operator. The woman on the other end of the line calmly talked her through checking if the boy was breathing (he was) and whether he was still bleeding (she couldn't be sure). "It looks like he got his head smashed in," Mai said. "I'm afraid to touch him."

She could already hear the sirens, and three minutes after she hit "call" on her phone an ambulance was pulling into the lot, followed by two police cars. The paramedics gently moved Mai out of their way.

The lady who worked at the bookstore went to put up the "closed" signs on all the shop doors and lock them up. The owner of the clothing store pointed out to the cops the bloody tire iron lying a few feet away. The man who worked at the music store told them, "I know him—he's one of those Dalton boys, he comes in here all the time. He was just in here with another boy. They couldn't have left more than 10 minutes ago."

"Could you describe the boy he was with?" asked an officer.

"About the same age. Pale, thin, kind of pretty. He was a Dalton student too. I got the impression they might be boyfriends."

"Did they seem to be getting along?"

"Yes, definitely. They were laughing and joking around. They were talking about some rehearsal for later today."

"—Miss?"

Mai realized an officer was talking to her and tried a smile that wavered as the ambulance started up its siren again and pulled out of the parking lot. She made an effort to focus on the officer.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

She nodded, and started telling the story again. A distant part of her mind noted that she'd be late going back to work, and that the noise and activity was starting to attract a crowd.

1:30pm

The BAU team in Quantico was in on afternoon's meeting via a conference call, waiting along with Morgan and Detective Callahan for Reid to gather his thoughts. He paced back and forth a few times across the room, then stopped and asked abruptly, "What if the unsub doesn't hate women?"

Without waiting for a reply, he explained, "We've been making an assumption about the cut hair and breast mutilations, that they represent the unsub's misogyny. We've been thinking they are meant to humiliate the victims and take away their symbolic power over him. But what if our unsub is more pragmatic than that? What if the pain and fear of the victims is just a side effect because the unsub doesn't actually want a woman, but a man?"

Callahan challenged, "I'm confused. If the unsub wanted a man, why would he abduct and murder women?"

"Because he doesn't want to be attracted to men," Reid answered. "We think he's young, athletic and aggressive. A lot of the schools in the athletic conference we've been examining are in smaller towns, which are historically more homophobic, I have some statistics…."

"Let's skip the statistics for now," Hotch instructed.

Reid pushed his glasses up his nose. "Um, yes. Well, there have always been elements of this unsub's style that don't seem to fit together into the conventional profiles of rapists. If the cuts are trophies, why does he sometimes leave the hair behind and in the first case leave the breasts unharmed? If the cuts are ritualistic, Webber's hair would have been cut even though it was already short. If the cuts are meant to maximize suffering, why has the unsub started using lube and padded restraints?"

He started pacing again, thinking aloud. "It's commonly thought that homophobes with visceral, intense hatred towards gay people maybe be repressing homosexual urges themselves. A recent study at the University of Rochester empirically confirmed there's an element of truth to that. So let's imagine that our unsub, who hates and is unsettled by gay people, develops an attraction to a man. His first instinct is to be even more overt in his homophobia, while simultaneously pursuing women even more aggressively.

"But he either can't or won't avoid the object of his attraction. Maybe they work together or even go to school together—we know that stalking behaviors can start very early, in the teens or even in childhood. What I'm proposing is that this unsub is desperate to prove himself with a woman, but his obsession is forcing him to "rewrite" each encounter to make them more like the man he's stalking—by shortening their hair, by removing their breasts, and possibly even by using an object to create the suggestion of a penis."

"We know he always rapes them anally," Morgan mused.

In the Virginia conference room, Rossi leaned forward, his face filling the screen. "How would you characterize the motivation of this stalker? Is he an "Intimacy Seeker" believing his victim is his true love, or is he an "Incompetent" who knows his victim doesn't desire him, but doesn't care?"

Reid answered, "Actually I would guess that if anything he's closer to the "Resentful" stalker. I'm theorizing that he's physically very attracted to his victim, but whether he likes his victim is anyone's guess. If he'd successfully repressed his homosexual desires in the past, I presume he'd actually be very angry at the person to puncture that delusion."

"I don't know," said Prentiss. "Are we really considering this?"

Morgan shrugged. "One of the LEOs here heard that a "boy" had called the hotline because of either an ex-boyfriend or a closeted harasser. Reid, you don't think it's an ex-boyfriend, a "Rejected Suitor" stalker?"

Reid shook his head. "If he was, that would suggest some level of acceptance of his homosexual desires, even if the relationship had only existed within his head."

"I've asked this before," Hotch said, "about the athlete theory, which is still far from proven by the way. Let's say this profile has possibilities, and I think that it does. What do we do about it?"

Reid's reply was immediate. "We look for potential male victims. We've been excluding them so far. We look specifically for reports of bullying and assault based on sexual orientation."

"Can Garcia include that in her search?" Callahan asked.

"I'm already on it," Penelope told her. "I have the school rosters broken down already. It won't take long for me to input this new search in." Her participation in the call was audio only; after a moment they all could hear rapid typing.

"It's a long shot, I know," Reid admitted to Morgan as the call disconnected.

"But it feels better in your gut, doesn't it?" Morgan said. "I knew you'd think of something, Kid."

2:00pm

Officer Petrie's car was a notorious lemon for the workers of Hummel Tires and Lube, and when he walked in, he was greeted by his nickname. The garage's owner, Burt Hummel, said with a smile, "Your engine finally give out on you, Skip?"

"'fraid I'm here on official business," Skip told him. "Can we talk in your office?"

A look came into Burt's eyes, the look of any parent upon sensing something wrong. "Sure." He wiped his oily hands on a faded cloth as he showed Skip to the office. "Is everything OK?"

"The name Blaine Anderson ring a bell?"

Burt's expression grew guarded. "Yeah, he's my son's boyfriend. It's only been a few weeks but I've seen it coming for a couple months."

"Well apparently Anderson was found beaten up this afternoon and no one can find Kurt. You heard from him?"

"No…. Has Blaine said anything?"

Skip shook his head. "Now I don't want you to panic because we don't know what's going on here, but Anderson's in a pretty bad way. I…" he trailed off.

Burt gripped the handles of his chair. "Tell me."

"I understand a tire iron was involved. Anyway, some officers from Westerville are on their way up to come up and talk to you, and they'll probably stay to talk to the rest of the family too. They want to get some fingerprints—"

"Is Kurt a suspect?" Burt demanded.

"Not by me," Skip said. "Look, these cops don't know Kurt. So they'll be careful and check everything, and they can use the fingerprints to rule that out for sure. They'll want to know all about him and Blaine Anderson and that'll help us all find him, OK? Burt?"

Burt took off his baseball cap and rubbed his head, then looked Skip in the eye. "What do I have to do?"

"I suggest meeting the guys from Westerville at your house, so they can get their fingerprints set and don't disrupt your business. Plus someone should be home in case Kurt calls."

Burt nodded slowly. He left his employee Frank in charge of the shop and with instructions to drop whatever he was doing to answer if anyone called. He called the hospital and asked Carol to get Finn and come home. Skip offered to go along for moral support and to make sure the Westerville cops didn't try to walk all over them, but Burt declined.

Burt rushed home and checked the answering machine, but there weren't any messages. Carol and Finn hadn't heard from Kurt either.

The Westerville cops seemed to think Kurt and Blaine had a fight in the 20 seconds it took them to leave some shop they'd been at, like Kurt had hurt his own boyfriend and then run off. They thought maybe he had an accomplice, someone Burt hadn't met. They didn't like that Kurt was gay, Burt could tell. They weren't taking his concerns about Kurt's safety seriously.

One of them did pause after they'd taken several fingerprints from Kurt's room and fingerprinted the family for comparison purposes. He was looking at a photo of Kurt.

"He look like a criminal to you?" Burt questioned.

"Anyone can look like a criminal once they get a hold of a tire iron," said the officer. "But no, he reminds me of someone. Not sure who. Anyway, be sure to let us know if he calls."

3:00pm

Dave was ready and waiting by the phone when his mother came home. She'd rearranged her whole schedule to finish and be home by 3 every day. "You were absent from all your classes except homeroom today," she accused.

"I know," Dave said. "Vicky's father is in the hospital. I don't really know what's going on but she's pretty upset. You can call her and check if you want."

His mother frowned at him. "I think I will."

Vicky, sweet stupid Vicky, hadn't questioned why he needed to get away from his parents when he called her on his drive home. She agreed his grounding was way too strict for just skipping a little school and didn't have a problem lying to his parents. "Can we hang out later though?" she asked.

"Maybe," he hedged.

Once his mother hung up, looking embarrassed for doubting him but refusing to apologize, Dave said, "Could I go back to the hospital? I don't know if I'm any help but at least I can go for food and coffee and be there with her, at the hospital or home or whatever. I promise I'll go to school tomorrow or tell you beforehand if she needs me again."

She was doubtful—she called his father at work to check with him—but eventually they agreed, since "you've been doing so well. But visiting hours at the hospital are over at 8, so we'll expect you home by 9 at the latest."

"OK, thanks Mom. Love you!" He'd put some duct tape over the taillight, hoping it would come across as "broken" rather than "gone". 40 minutes back to the cabin, and he wasn't about to speed now.

3:30pm

When a call came into the Columbus station "for the Feds", Morgan and Reid braced themselves for the news of another body. But instead, the voice on the phone said, "We were running prints in connection with an assault this afternoon, and we got a match with your suspect."

Morgan said, "Could you send us the results and copies of everything to do with this assault? What's the nature of it?"

The other officer said, "It's the damnedest thing. We checked the results twice, because it's not anything like the other things this guy's done. A teenage boy got beaten with a tire iron. It got left behind, and your killer's prints are all over it."

Morgan, Reid and Callahan all stared at each other, and Morgan asked slowly, "What does the victim look like? Have you been able to talk to him?"

There was a pause, then, "Short but muscular, about 16 years old. Dark Caucasian or maybe mixed race complexion, black hair. And no, he's pretty badly off. He only got hit once, but it was a direct hit to the head. Fractured his skull. Anyway, the victim was last seen with his boyfriend 10 minutes before he was found, and now the boyfriend's missing."

At the word "boyfriend" Callahan had briefly closed her eyes. Morgan asked, "The boyfriend's name?"

"Kurt Hummel, from Lima. It's a couple hours north of here. We already went up there and got his fingerprints, and they're not a match."

Callahan was already calling to arrange a helicopter to Lima. As Morgan dialed Garcia, he commented, "If Hummel's not a match then he's not our unsub."

"I wouldn't expect him to be," said Reid. "This unsub wouldn't openly be in a gay relationship. I do, however, think it's more likely that one or both of these boys know the unsub."

"Or that he's devolving and they set him off. Penelope baby, we've got new info coming in for you."

3:32pm

Penelope clicked open the file from the Westerville police and sighed, "Oh, sweeties," at the photos. Blaine Anderson was a handsome, polished boy with bright dark eyes, and the photo someone had snapped of his injury at the scene was ugly in every way.

And Kurt Hummel broke her heart, because he couldn't fit into the unsub's type any more neatly. Whether he was the original object of the unsub's obsession or simply unlucky enough to be noticed, every element matched, from the short brown hair to the high cheekbones to the slim build to the pale, poreless skin. Looking at his file, she saw two schools listed; a private academy in Westerville and a public school, William McKinley High School in Lima.

McKinley was on her list! She went back through the roster and disciplinary files looking for Kurt. Her eyes widened at what she found, and she called Hotch to request a meeting to share her results.

Keeping the radio open to the police helicopter in Ohio, she told them that the second search she'd started a few hours earlier would have definitely flagged Kurt Hummel's name. He'd filed a harassment complaint against a football and hockey player, alleging bullying to the point of a death threat based on Hummel's sexuality. Midway through the year he'd left the school.

The boy he'd filed the complaint against was David Karofsky, whose name had already been flagged for his temporary suspension in November and chronic truancy in the months since. However, until today the fact that his aggressiveness had been against another boy had kept him off their radar.

Hotch ordered, "Let's get officers to Hummel's house and Karofsky's house right now. Have them learn whatever they can from the Hummels, and see if they can find Karofsky. If he's home, keep him home. But I just want them to get general information about his behavior lately, OK Agent Morgan? I want you and Reid to be the ones who bring the case up. Go straight there."

"Got it."

"He missed school all the days of the murders, and… a lot of days before that too, once Kurt Hummel had transferred out." Penelope sighed.

"He was building up to the first murder, just like we thought," Hotch said. "But through stalking, not rape."

Penelope shook her head as she brought up the Ohio BMV. "He was here all along…. OK, I'm not getting any vehicles registered in his name but I'm getting two registered to a Paul Karofsky… and yes, I think that's the father."

"Send them to the Ohio State Patrol, but if they spot either have them call in before they approach and don't rattle him. Let's do this right and get Kurt Hummel back alive."