Chapter Seven
Resisting feeling sick, Reid poured over the crime scene photos. They were fascinating and terrifying; interesting and unspeakable.
Vivienne sat next to him on the jet, settling herself into the seat. It would be a short flight to Chicago, but they had a lot to discus in that time.
"Is there any known connection between the victims?" Hotch asked Garcia, who was on the webcam.
She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "Actually, yes. They attended the same yoga class, and it appears they were casual acquaintances."
"Thank you. Keep looking for anything else, Garcia," Hotch ordered.
"Yes sir." Garcia signed off.
Vivienne gently tugged at the corner of one of the photos, telling Reid to turn it towards her. He obliged, for once not focused on her close proximity.
"The women were killed from blood loss from the cuts, but there was no blood at the scene. The unsub must have stayed to clean up after himself. He clearly had plenty of time and knew he wouldn't be interrupted." She said, letting Reid have the photo back.
"Which means he knew their schedules," Morgan said from across the table.
Vivienne nodded absently. She reached for another photo, the tips of her fingers brushing Reid's hand in the process. He started and glanced up, realizing how close she was. He caught a faint whiff of her perfume before she leaned away, holding another crime scene photo.
"The victim showed some signs of struggle, but not much. Perhaps they were drugged." She pointed to the victim's hands. "See? There's slight swelling and bruising around her fingers, meaning she was probably dragged and tried to stop herself. But there are no defensive wounds on her arms or legs, as if she gave up once the unsub dragged her to where she was killed."
Reid shook his head. "That seems unlikely without some kind of drug. Especially in the mother; she would feel compelled to protect her children."
"Where were the children when this happened?" Prentiss spoke up.
JJ answered. "They were at school. She was attacked mid-morning, approximately ten o'clock. She died at about one or two in the afternoon, and the two kids found her an hour and a half later."
Prentiss shook her head in disgust.
Reid looked intently at the photos, his head spinning slightly. He pinched the bridge of nose to prevent the onset of a headache.
"Reid, you okay?" Morgan asked.
He looked up. "Hmm? Yes, I'm fine."
Vivienne's eyes flicked to him briefly before going back to the photos. He regarded the glance with passive interest; he made himself tear his eyes away from her as she studied the photos.
"Where's the wedding ring?" Vivienne asked suddenly. She pointed to a picture of the older victim, who wore no jewelry.
JJ shrugged, and began looking through files. "There was no report of it being found."
Vivienne reached for another photo. She pulled it from the pile, this one a shot of the first, younger victim, and scanned it closely. Reid peered over her shoulder, not catching the slight smile on Morgan's face.
"There." Vivienne said. She pointed to the victim's right ring finger. "She had a slight tan line there. It looks like a class ring."
"How the hell can you see-" Morgan trailed off, taking the photo. "Damn." He glanced up. "I think she's right."
"So he takes trophies." Rossi said. Reid leaned back.
"Maybe he feels a connection to his victims," he mused, "or maybe he feels that these items are proof that his list is getting shorter."
( )
"Can we do anything to help you, Agent Hotchner?" A younger officer asked as they arrived at the police station.
"No, thank you." Hotch strode on by, ignoring the questioning glances from the other officers nearby. He moved directly to the center of the station, and shook hands with a man in a suit. "Detective Crosby."
"Thanks for getting here so quickly." Crosby replied. He was a thin, but fit looking man in his mid-thirties. His eyes were a cold, steely grey. Reid saw Vivienne frown from the corner of his eye, and glanced back at her.
The frown faded and was replaced by a tight smile as she shook Crosby's hand.
"We'll stay here and work victimology for tonight," Hotch was saying after introducing the team, "but we'll start early tomorrow and visit the crime scenes."
"Of course." Crosby replied. "Mandy Jones- the first victim- lived by herself in an apartment uptown, so that's still locked down. Candace Perrin's family lived in the suburbs, and we've asked that the family stay somewhere else until we can completely examine the scene." He gestured behind himself, pointing to the officers and computers. "Any help we provide, we'll be happy to do so." His smile was cold.
"Thank you." Hotch moved forward. Crosby showed them to the center of activity, where several officers were pinning photos and records to the wall.
Reid tucked his hair behind his ear absently and stepped forward. There were photos of some possible suspects; the boyfriend of the first victim and the husband of the second.
"These photos can be removed." Reid said, mostly to Hotch. "We're looking for one killer, and these two men didn't have a connection to the other woman." They had talked to Garcia again on the way about both men.
"Those men are still active suspects," Crosby said, frowning. Reid opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when Hotch shot him a look.
"Detective Crosby, we'll be profiling the murdered using proven methods developed in part by this team. We certainly aren't discrediting the work you and your men have done, but we'll take over from here. Thank you."
Crosby looked furious, and then instantly composed himself. Vivienne stepped up to the wall, examining the evidence.
The team assembled quickly, breaking up into teams and groups to efficiently work the case.
"We have every reason to believe this killer will strike again. There were three days in between the first two killings. That is a very short gap. We need to be alert." Hotch addressed them.
"Let's get to it," JJ said, picking up the phone. Vivienne and Reid turned back to the evidence board.
( )
The same time the next evening, they still had no leads. Both suspects had rock-solid alibis, and no new suspects had taken their place. Garcia had made little progress in connecting the victims with more than a very casual relationship; they knew each other from weekly activities. The only progress they had made was that both victims had been drugged; it turned out to be an over-the-counter nighttime cough syrup that had been injected.
"Hotch, we have nothing to go on," Morgan said.
"I know." Hotch stared at the desk he was sitting at, thinking.
Reid gazed over the evidence board. He'd been staring at it off and on for nearly twenty-four hours.
There had been no witnesses. No suspicious behavior reported. No fingerprints, even partial ones.
Vivienne was staring at the board just as intensely. "Maybe that's the pattern," she muttered to herself.
"What?" Morgan asked.
"Maybe the complete lack of evidence is part of the unsub's signature," Vivienne said, not bothering to turn. "He knows exactly what we'd be looking for. He knows what to avoid, and how to do it." She turned and lowered her voice. "We might be looking for a cop," she said.
Reid shook his head immediately. "No, the tape on victims' mouths and the drugging shows the unsub is unsure of himself; probably not very physically strong. A cop would be very unlikely to have either characteristic."
Vivienne put her hands on her hips. "There is no evidence. None. Not one hair, fingerprint, boot print, or even semen sample. These victims were raped. We should have one if not all of those pieces of evidence. The unsub had plenty of time and knowledge, as well as a very good cover. No one would report a cop for suspicious behavior."
"It doesn't fit the victims or the actual crime," Reid insisted.
Vivienne wasn't done. "On top of that, your insistence that a cop would be confident and physically fit- the former of which has little concrete basis- does fit the crime. The victims themselves are low-risk, wealthy women from affluent and peaceful neighborhoods. Forensically-" she shot Reid a glance- "there is no evidence to support claims that the unsub is weak. He gutted these women and raped them. It demonstrates a dominant personality, and the wounds show that each section of the X was made in one cut. It wasn't done piece by piece; it was ripped. The damage done shows that the knife-wielder was put a considerable amount of force into the cutting, but the end of each cut has an upward pull, as if the knife were being pulled up and out before the cut was finished. Our unsub is slender, but certainly not weak." Vivienne glanced at Hotch and Morgan, who were listening with interest, and then back to Reid, who had crossed his arms. "Can we not discount the only valid lead we have right now?"
Reid snapped back. "Can we not discount three doctorates and six years with the FBI? You have no proof!" He wished he could take it back as soon as he said it.
"Reid!" Morgan said, giving him a look.
"Reid, a word, please," Hotch said tightly at the same time.
Vivienne didn't look hurt or insulted, and only regarded Reid with icy blue eyes. "Have it your way, Dr. Reid," she said softly.
Reid didn't know why he had said such a thing. He had known it was rude and completely uncalled for, but it was out of his mouth before he had considered either.
"I- uh, I-" he stammered for something to say, maybe an apology, but Hotch was already leading him down the hall.
"Reid, what's gotten into you?" Hotch demanded when they were a considerable distance away. Reid peeked over Hotch's shoulder, and saw Morgan reach out and put a hand on Vivienne's crossed arms.
"I- I don't know," Reid replied weakly. "I don't know why I said that… I- I'm sorry."
"Get a hold of yourself," Hotch said. He moved to walk back to the team. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back to Reid. "You remember how it was for you."
This shook Reid. He had been the outcast when he first came to the BAU; in some ways, he still was. He was significantly younger, much more intelligent, and much less social. Vivienne seemed to be closest to him in all of those categories, and he blew her off. He wished he knew why she got him so flustered.
Slinking back to the team, Reid stared at the ground. He heard Hotch demand where Crosby was.
"He's not in," JJ replied. "Apparently, he doesn't spend much time at the station."
The unsub had plenty of time… Vivienne's words popped into his head. Reid's mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything.
"Damn it!" Morgan cursed as he slammed down the phone. He regarded the rest of the team harshly. "We have another body."
( )
Abby Marshall. She was thirty-one years old, a natural brunette that dyed her hair red. She was a veterinarian who was obviously an animal lover. Her barking dogs, who had been left outside and apparently gotten hungry, alerted the neighbors.
"She's been dead at least eight hours," Vivienne concluded as she knelt beside the body. The brutally carved X was sewed back together with what looked like fishing line.
Reid felt sick. First, because Vivienne hadn't looked at him since his comment earlier, and second, because he felt responsible for the body at his feet. He should have known better than to discount any theory.
The woman's mouth had been taped shut, following the pattern. There was no blood on the floor where she was found, but there was some down the hall in her kitchen.
Vivienne waited until someone had photographed the body as it was, and then knelt back down and snipped open the stitches. She let out a deep breath when she exposed the contents.
"He completely gutted her," she said. She then composed herself, slipping back into the manner of a scientist. "Her stomach and most of her intestines are gone. They were cut out with the same tool used to cut open her abdomen."
A horrible smell was seeping from the body. Vivienne grimaced, and reached into the dead woman's eviscerated midsection.
"Not good," Vivienne mumbled as she brought out a clear Ziplock bag. She stood, moved to a nearby counter, and dumped out the contents of the bag. After pulling her gloves off and putting on a new pair, she sifted through the few items.
There was a letter that Reid struggled to see from where he was standing. He peered at it, squinting slightly. Vivienne handed the letter to Hotch, who took it gingerly with his own gloved hands. He sighed and looked down at his feet before reading it aloud.
"Agents, there is nothing you can do. You cannot stop me, just like these women couldn't stop me. They deserved this; surely, you can see that. You will see it when you realize who they are. You would already see it if you knew who I am. Because you are so far behind, I'm leaving you a hint. Good luck catching up."
"He sees it as a game. He wants to be chased." Prentiss surmised. "Sick bastard," she added quietly, glancing down at the remains of Abby Marshall.
"What did he leave?" Morgan asked, stepping towards Vivienne.
Vivienne didn't say a word, but simply handed Morgan the only other item in the bag.
It was a Chicago PD badge.
( )
A/N: Updates may be a little slower than the first few chapters, but I'll try not to let it go too long with a new chapter. Please review!
