INTERIM NINE
Thomas Berry wrote:
There is an ultimate wildness in all this, for the universe, as existence itself, is a terrifying as well as a benign mode of being. If it grants us amazing powers over much of its functioning we must always remember that any arrogance on our part will ultimately be called to account. The beginning of wisdom in any human activity is a certain reverence before the primordial mystery of existence, for the world about us is a fearsome mode of being. We do not judge the universe.
DEREKMORGANDEREKMORGANDEREKMORGAN
"So how are we gonna do this?" Tony Amecci asked, as he and Morgan approached the first house on their list. Amecci hated talking to victims' families, and he always tried to avoid it, if possible. Today, it wasn't possible. "I don't do a lot of family interviews, man. I leave it to my partner, Tasia."
"Wasn't that one of the people mentioned the other night? At Spinelli's?"
"My partner. Her and Em were pretty close. No other team leader really wanted Stamois." Tony added, "Em gave her a shot, she's not forgotten that. I'm sure she'll be pretty upset to have missed Em-ee-lee."
Morgan knocked on the door, and the conversation ended and was quickly forgotten. The man who answered was a good five years older than Morgan. He was dressed neatly, khaki's and polo, both pressed perfectly. His dark hair was combed neatly to one side, and wire framed glasses covered his brown eyes. "Can I help you?"
"James Eding? I'm SSA Derek Morgan, and this is SSA Tony Amecci. We're here to talk to you about the disappearance of Amanda O'Neil."
"I've already talked to you guys over and over. It hasn't done any good. Why now?"
Morgan took control of the interview, but they learned nothing helpful, just that Amanda O'Neil, successful caterer, had disappeared one night after locking her company down for the night. She was just gone.
He knocked on the door of the second house a little after two in the afternoon. The man who answered was a severe man. His black hair was parted starkly over his right temple and brushed ruthlessly down. His eyes were a dark brown, equally as cold as Hotch's—a detail that lodged itself in Derek's brain. The man's suit was something the BAU leader would have worn, as well.
"Mr. Powers, we're here to ask you some questions about the disappearance of Margo Jenkins. May we come in?" Morgan and Amecci flashed their badges.
"I have twenty minutes before I have to leave for court. Can you make it as fast as possible?" The man's voice was flat and Derek had a hard time reading him. It made him on edge.
"Can you tell us about the week before Ms. Jenkins disappeared." Derek cut right to the chase.
"It was the week between Christmas and New Years." The man's voice cracked, almost imperceptibly. "We had a case—she was one hell of an attorney, Agent Morgan—but it unexpectedly wrapped up, early. I went to the office to file the paperwork. She wasn't feeling well—wanted some damned chocolate. So she drove the Lexus to the store. They found the car. Found her chocolate. Never found her."
"Mr. Powers, I am sorry for what you've experienced. What about that week, did anything out of the ordinary happen?" Morgan asked, trying to diver the man from his loss. "Anything that struck you as odd?"
"The SUV." The man said, "Three days before, someone took a ball bat to the windshield of my Explorer. Then sliced the tires. I filed a report, but it happened outside the courthouse, in a public parking lot. The police just assumed it was a pissed-off defendant. I work for the prosecutors' office. So did Margo. Everyone just assumed someone from our past cases took her, but we never could find out who."
"Thank you for talking with us today." Morgan said, shaking the man's hand. "We are sorry to have to dredge this all up."
"Agent Morgan, if by some chance you do catch the son-of-a-bitch who took her, make him pay."
"I'll do the very best I can."
THEGREATGODDESSGARCIATHEGREATGODDESSGARCIA
"Hello, beautiful." Kevin's breath whispered across Penelope's neck, and she jumped, shivering.
"Kevin! What have a told you about that?" She shrieked, spinning in her chair.
"I know, but you are just so beautiful." He looked sweet and abashed and she had to forgive him. "I wanted to bring you this. I know you don't like to leave the office when your team is out. And I thought you might be hungry."
"You are the most wonderful man on earth!" She took the box with its wonderful smells of sesame chicken and lomain wafting out. "You have been a very good boy, and will be reward later!"
Before he could reply, her phone rang. "Penelope Garcia, goddess of the information highway speaking, to which cybercity can I direct your call?"
She waved Kevin out of the office, and he grinned, before she shut the door in his face with a big wink. Then she spoke into the phone. "Hey you! Anything good happening over your way?"
"Hey, babygirl. I need you to do me a favor."
"For you, anything." She spoke around a mouthful of Chinese. "Well, almost anything. Anything is reserved for Kevin."
"TMI, Pen. TMI." Derek said. "But as long as he treats my girl right, it's none of my business!"
"Right-o. So what do you need?"
"I need police reports for vandalism for a Mr. Joshua Powers and Margo Jenkins. Then I need you to check in the names of the four other Michigan victims and their partners. Fax the information to JJ and Reid and the Chicago office."
"Will do, oh dark god of the night." She swallowed another big bite. "Now I'm going to finish this wonderful food, Garcia over and out!"
DRSPENCERREIDDRSPENCERREIDDRSPENCERREID
"Hotch just called." JJ told Reid as he entered the conference room, followed by Agent Coombs. "Someone took a ball bat to their SUV while they were eating lunch. Slashed the tires, too. Hotch is pissed."
"They have any ideas who it was?" Reid asked, puzzled. "Why they'd do it?"
"Not a clue. Unless it was just random vandalism. But Hotch thinks there's too much rage behind it." JJ said, accepting the mug of hot chocolate the redheaded agent handed her. She'd had to find a substitute for coffee—the smell had nearly killed her since finding out about the baby. "Still, I'm glad their interviews are over—they'll be back at the hotel tonight."
"Did they find anything useful?" Coombs asked.
"All of their victims, worked in some capacity with the men they were dating. Most were partners, and all were career-oriented and damned good at their jobs. And they think the UNSUB stalked the victims before blitzing them at weak moments."
"That's it?" Coombs' skepticism showed. "How does that help us?"
"Actually, it helps us a lot. Stalkers generally follow certain profiles—and the type of victims tells us that he most likely resents successful couples, or at least the women. The stressor was most likely a dark haired woman who was highly successful, motivated, and independent. They most likely worked together." Reid said excitedly. "But he has to find the woman and watch her for a while, meaning someone may have noticed him. Of course, most stalkers are highly intelligent, and can cover their presence rather well."
Before anyone else could comment JJ's phone rang. "Jareau, hey Derek. You find anything? Ok. I'll keep an eye on the fax machine. You'll be back in a few hours? Good. Hotch and Emily are already on their way. See you soon. Bye."
"What he'd find?" Reid asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly. "Anything probative?"
"He's faxing a few police reports. And some other stuff. Should be here in a few minutes." JJ said, she stood and moved closer to the bulletin board, a stack of photos in her hand. It was what she and Reid had been working on all day, in between interviews with the families of the four Chicago victims. They'd found similar information to Hotch and Emily—all their victims were successful at their jobs, and were deeply involved with their romantic partners. JJ started pinning 8 x 10's of the boyfriends/fiances to the board beneath the victims, starting with the Chicago. Morgan had had Garcia email JJ photos of Mr. Powers, and the other Detroit men.
Reid stared at the portraits as JJ pinned them—nine men stared back. "JJ."
"Yeah, Reid." JJ wasn't really looking at the pictures, just making sure she had the right man beneath the right victim. So she didn't see what Reid did. "What is it."
"Come here, look."
"Ok, what?" She asked, moving to stand beside him, as Coombs stood and moved closer. "What is it?"
"What do you notice about each of those men?" Reid asked, one hand on her shoulder, the other pointing at the bulletin.
"Brown and brown." JJ's voice was flat. "They've all got brown and brown. Male and female."
"So the men were part of the victimology, too." Reid said, excited. This was a big step forward.
"Now we just need to get with Hotch and Emily and make sure their victims follow the same pattern." JJ said, as the sound of the fax machine whirred through the room. "Here's Derek's faxes."
The stack of papers was thick and it took quite a while to sort them into appropriate piles for each victim. JJ pinned each report under the victims, then picked up her phone. "Garcia, I need you to check police reports in the weeks before each disappearance—both Chicago and Indianapolis. Thanks."
Reid waited until she disconnected. "What are you getting at?"
"Each of the Detroit victims were also the victims of petty vandalism within the week of disappearance, Reid." JJ said, motioning to a row of police reports pinned to the bulletin board. "Vehicles and/or places of business."
"So Garcia's running the other victims." Reid stated.
"I don't get it." Coombs questioned. "Why wasn't this noticed before?"
"Most of the victims worked in slightly higher crime areas," Reid said, thinking it through as he spoke, "And each city had only one disappearance each year. The vandalisms were apparently just secondary. I mean, a lawyer's car being bashed with a ball bat—or the tires sliced, isn't an unheard of occurrence."
"I guess not." Coombs said. "Why would this guy do that? I mean, and risk getting caught? It doesn't make sense."
"He can't help himself." Reid began, "He has to do it, for whatever reason. It's part of his signature, the one thing he cannot change, no matter what. Compulsion."
"So where do we go from here?" Coombs asked.
"Wait until the rest of the team is here." JJ said, "Wait on Garcia's information. Put it all together, then identify this bastard."
THEBAUTHEBAUTHEBAUTHEBAUTTHEBAUTHEBAU
The Detroit pair arrived two hours before the Indianapolis pair was scheduled to land. Garcia had come through, as always, with a list of police reports, and driver's license photos for all the victims' partners. JJ and Reid had them all pinned up in appropriate places, and were just waiting with Derek and the two Chicago agents to arrive.
"So this guy stalks his victims—and we can consider the men as part of the victimology—probably much longer for a week." Derek said, while they waited on Emily and Hotch. "Attacks their vehicles—most likely as misplaced rage against the male in the equation. The driver's sides of each vehicle were much more damaged than the passenger."
"So how does that mean the male is the one he's raging against?" Amecci asked.
"Typically, the male partner in a relationship does the majority of the driving." JJ answered. "So by damaging the driver's side, he was targeting the male."
"So why successful dark eyed guys?" Amecci asked, his own dark eyes puzzled. "Or couples, rather."
"Maybe your on to something." Reid said, moving to the bulletin board. "Look at the picture of the men, then look at the women. The men have very little variance in appearance. They've all got extremely dark hair, right. But the women's range from medium brown to black. The same with the men's eyes. All are darker brown, but the women's go from light brown to dark."
"So are you saying the men are the real targets?" Amecci asked. "So why take the women?"
"To make the men suffer." Coombs said, bluntly. "If someone were to take my wife, it would break me. Completely. I'd rather they killed me, then take her away."
"Exactly." Morgan said, quietly. "This guy isn't just taking the women for some sexual reason—he's doing it to make their partners suffer."
Morgan's phone rang and he answered, before putting it on speaker.
"Hey my little crime fighters, and baby-JJ, here's what I found. All the victims worked closely with their partners and all had vehicles vandalized four days before their disappearance. And all the men were within the ages of thirty-eight and forty-three. A much smaller age window then the female victims."
"Thanks, Garcia." Morgan said, then disconnecting the phone after hearing the dial tone.
Before anyone else could speak, Morgan looked up and caught sight of Emily through the glass window. Two feet behind her, Hotch carried his ready bag in one hand, his suit jacket in the other. Emily looked over her shoulder and him, and said something, to which the man replied, a small, rare smile touching his coldly severe face.
Morgan's eyes left the couple and briefly touched the bulletin board. He ran his gaze over each of the sixteen victims and their partner's faces in the next row—mind quickly cataloging the dark hair and the dark eyes.
He jerked around to face the couple as they opened the glass doors to the conference room.
"Hey, what have you all found?" Emily asked, smiling in greeting. It took her a minute to realize everyone was staring at her and Hotch intensely. "What?"
"Dammit!" Morgan cursed.
"Morgan?" Hotch's brows rose, surprised. "Is there something we've missed?"
"Yeah." JJ said, voice trembling almost imperceptivity. "You two are the next targets."
(Ok, so now I know where I am going with this…but don't worry there will be plenty of twists! Please please please please review!!)
