CHAPTER TEN: "Not helpful Mr Genius"

October 16th - Las Vegas, Nevada

REID & JJ – FRANKLAND'S DUMP SITE

JJ pulled the car over to the side of the long, empty road they had been on. "LJ said it was somewhere back through the trees beyond that field." Reid said as he pointed to the right side of the road where a small field was lined by a thin forest of trees.

They made their way through the field slowly, scanning the dry, dusty dirty underneath their feet. "You know, if I remember correctly, this used to be an old, dying apple orchard. My mom said she used to go apple picking there every September with her grandparents."

"Did both your parents grow up in Vegas?"

"My mom did. My dad was born in Connecticut but his father got transferred out here when he was eight. He worked for Grumman as an engineer. Almost everyone worked for Grumman after World War II." He ended with a small, dismissive shrug and continued looking downwards.

As they made their way into the thinning woods, Reid stopped and glanced around him. "There's an orange flag where the body was discovered. The file says she was propped up, facing west, against a Pacific Yew tree, which I don't see anywhere in the area."

"I have no idea what a pacific yew tree looks like." JJ said as she glanced around her at trees that all looked the same as the ones next to them.

"It doesn't look much different than other types of yew trees."

"Not helpful Mr. Genius. How about a description of any ol' yew tree that way we can split up. I'll go left and you go right." JJ as she gave Reid a little shove. "Some times I wonder how Sophia puts up with you."

Choosing to ignore the comment on Sophia, Reid took a breath and began. "Taxus brevifolia, common name is pacific or western yew tree. It's regularly seen on the western border from Alaska to California and though it's rare in Nevada it's not unheard of. Some people have taken to planting them in residential areas because the branches lead to nice shade. Typically it's around 10 to 15 meters tall, or 32 to 49 ft. They can't reach about 20 meters in gullies but not around here. It's a low hanging evergreen conifer so you're looking for flat lanceolate leaves, or needle-like leaves that you see on most Christmas trees. This time of year they aren't flowering nor are there going to be any berries left so that's not particularly helpful. They grow rather slow so they often rot out from the inside so they're also known for having hollow insides but unless you're cutting them down, that's not very useful either. The bark is thin and scaly, with a substantial amount of off-white sap. In this area the trunk has an almost purple hue to it, which is usually the defining attribute of the tree."

"So a purple tree with needly leaves?" JJ repeated simplistically. Reid nodded in reply. "Well how hard could that be."

An hour later JJ wished she had never opened her mouth, that is until her cellphone rang loudly from her left pocket.

"Dear God, please tell me you found it."

"Yeah, I've got it. And a nice trail directly behind it, not wide enough for an SUV but you could probably get a small two-door down this way but it get pretty scratched up. I took a few photos of the trail and tree. No point in you walking all this way, any physical evidence is gone and it's a good thirty minute walk from the car."

"Sounds good to me. I'll meet you back at the car; It's getting around lunch time and I'm starving!"

ROSSI & MORGAN – BLACK'S DUMP SITE

As Morgan drove Rossi twisted the radio dial, not staying on a single station for more than ten seconds.

"For the love of god man, pick a station."

"Nothing good is playing." Rossi answered as he continued to spin the knob.

"How are you supposed to know if something good is playing if you don't get it a chance to play something for longer than a few seconds?" Morgan asked, his annoyance levels equal to his curiosity in Rossi.

"I have good taste. I know what I like the second I hear it. And commercials, rapping and electric guitar are not my cup of tea."

"You seem like a Tony Bennett or Rat Pack kind of guy." Rossi laughed instantly.

"Pretty close. Not a Tony Bennett fan but I love me some Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and some Johnny Mathis."

"Not bad. The only Sinatra song I have on my iPod is Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang." Morgan said to the surprise face of Morgan. "What? Don't look so surprised. I've got good taste and I little bit of everything. Some jazz, some soul, a little bit of classic rock."

Finally hitting a station playing Dean Martin's "Mambo Italiano" Rossi finally rested his hands in his lap. Only twenty minutes after leaving the precinct they had reached a vast county park by the end of The Drifters "This Magic Moment". Passing the empty, small ranger's shack at the entrance, Rossi directed Morgan through the gravel roads from the map on his lap. They were passed by two county workers in their golf-cart like cars, waving as they passed. Five minutes later they came to a stop on the side of the road just beyond an area designated for picnicking.

"His body was found a few feet from the west side of the road; there should be a marker on the ground from the police officers" Morgan said as he slammed the car door behind him, pushing his shades off his face as the hot sun was blocked by the thick canopy of trees.

On the ground, about six feet into the woods was a small, triangular orange flag pushed into the ground at base of a tree.

"So he dumped Black close to the edge of the road, far enough back that it was blatantly obvious but close enough that someone would eventually find him." Rossi speculates as he walks around the tree. "Morgan, go by the car and tell me if you can see me." With that Rossi lowers himself almost to the ground, not terribly interested in sitting in the dirt and ruining his Italian suit.

"The brush is sort of blocking you. If you weren't wearing black you'd blend in more. I can see your arms and head clearly but your torso is covered." With that Morgan walked back to the tree. "Driving by I would miss you. Taking a walk I'd probably see you or your hand out the corner of my eye. What I'd like to know is how he got the body here." Morgan paused, flipping open the file on the hood of the car.

"He could have taken a car. The gravel doesn't leave clear tire marks."

Morgan shook his head. "There's heavy foot traffic here during the day because of the dog park and picnic area, even in September."

"Okay. But the gates close at sundown. And there's no way he carried Black's body in his arm."

Morgan walked back to the tree. He glanced up and down the road, taking in the gravel road that gently weaves back and forth through the forest. Looking into the woods behind him he saw the thin, widely used trails for hikers. Taking a few steps towards the trails, he glances back and forth yet again.

"I think I got it."

LJ & PRENTISS – DUCHAMP'S DUMP SITE

"It's a pretty far walk from here; exactly at the midway point of this trail. The trail's used a lot by hikers and some bikes but it's not wide enough for a car." LJ parked the car, throwing the car door closed loudly.

"Well it's a good thing I didn't wear my good heels." Prentiss said as she looked down at her black heels.

LJ laughed and opened the back door of his pick-up truck. He pulled out a pair of hiking boots, handing them to Prentiss. "They belong to Bella. I'm not sure if they'll fit but it's better than you breaking an ankle and honestly, I don't want to carry you back to my truck and explain it all to your boss."

Prentiss slipped them on, the shoes slightly too tight but more than manageable, especially considering the alternative.

They started up a thin dirt trail that was heavily used by runners and mountain bikers. It weaved around the bottom of small hills, through densely forested areas, down and up a small crater-sized indent, around a small, natural lake and eventually ending back at the parking lot they had just left behind them.

They walked the first feet in silence before LJ decided he might as well strike up a conversation or else their twenty minute trip was going to be torturous. "Soooo...how's life in our great capital?"

"It's certainly never dull. Or quiet. It's beautifully quite here. Not what one would expect in when they think of Vegas."

"Yeah it's sort of like when you say New York and everyone automatically conjures up an image of Time Square. Once you're off the Strip it's actually sort of dull. Like a college town, the real-estate value was cheap when corporations decided to purchase the land and build up their little empires. And then everything around them became sort of slum-like."

Prentiss nodded, remembering how, back in college, you had the safe part of the town where all the college students went to and the no-gos where the locals lived.

"You said one of your co-workers, uh, Dr. Reid, was it? He's from Vegas, right?"

"Yep. Born and raised as far as I know."

"That must have been a big change for him. The weather alone is a complete 180." At this Prentiss laughed, recalling to mind all the times Reid has complained of being "freezing" while everyone else was fine.

"He's a bit more warm-blooded than the rest of us but we love him anyway."

"It's gotta be nice, getting to see all the US through your job. I mean, I'm sure you don't get to enjoy every city during cases but still. Sounds nice to me."

"It's got its perks. It's nice when we have a little down time between solving the case and catching our flight home. But more often than not we pretty much leave for home straight from the precinct." LJ nodded, letting a comfortable silence fill the air around them before he decided to ask another question.

"Can I ask for some advice. Feel free to tell me I'm out of line but there aren't many women in our precinct besides Bella and I'm not really sure who else to ask. Granted, we don't know each other at all but I might as well try."

"Go ahead. I'll slap you if it's inappropriate." Prentiss quipped back.

"Well. Bella and I...We have this sort of relationship hovering over professional and..." he paused and cleared his throat. "Otherwise. It's not frowned upon or anything here. We've got two married couples on the force. But I just...alright, I'll jut cut to the chase. How the hell do I know if she'll not punch me in the face for asking her out of a date?! Some times I flirt and she blushes. And other times she tells me to stop being unprofessional! I don't get it!"

Prentiss stopped in her tracks, unsure what exactly to say. "Have you guys ever...I don't know...hooked-up?"

"Oh god no! I don't think she would, I mean, she's not that kind of girl. We kissed, once, when we were drunk at the Christmas party. Like kiss-kissed. Not mistletoe kissing. So I thought she was interested. And then she went out and started dating some lawyer dude! I mean they didn't last long, but still. We've been partner for five years! I know her better than anyone else and I just can't figure this whole thing out."

"My philosophy? Actions speak louder than words. Show her how you feel. If she physically turns you down, then you've got a pretty clear answer. It sounds to me like she has feelings for you but maybe is unsure of it in a professional since. Especially since she tells you are being unprofessional."

LJ nodded, rolling the idea around his head. "So, is this advice coming from you as a woman or as a profiler?" He asked with a little smirk.

"A little bit of both I guess." They turned a sharp corner and LJ stopped.

"Here we are." They had finally reached the far side of the small lake where a small orange flag was pushed into the ground underneath a wide tree. Instantly clicking back into his professional demeanor, LJ ran through how and who found the body. "What I still can't fathom" he started, glancing around him, "is how on earth he got a body here. No car to carry it and I highly doubt he lugged Duchamp all the way himself. The dude wasn't exactly a lightweight."

"Well what's that trail, down there? That looks wider than the one we were just on."

"Oh that? It's for the park rangers. They take their ATVs up and down that back road. It leads to a small cabin and then eventually to the main road we came in on. But it's typically chained up unless a ranger's doing a round."

Prentiss looked over at LJ and then back to the road. "Twenty bucks says that's the answer."

BELLA & HOTCH – MORGUE

The smell of a morgue is something entirely unique. It's a strange mix of sterile and vile. The intense odor of rubbing alcohol, sanitizer and bleach lies just over the gut wrenching smell of decaying flesh, congealed bled and stomach bile. It's a contradiction of smells that is indescribable, unimaginable, and until you smell it yourself there is nothing that is even remotely comparable.

Bella and Hotch walk in together, pushing the swinging doors out of their way. In front of them was frail, tanned man with near-black eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. He looked as though a small gust might blow the old man pushing 80 right onto his back.

"Dr. Esarra. This is Agent Hotchner with the FBI." Bella gestured to Hotch as Dr Esarra snapped off his glove and threw them into a nearby garbage can. Reaching a thin, long hand out, Dr Esarra gripped Hotch's hand with a vice-like grip that seemed so contradictory to his physical appearance.

"Fantastic to meet you! Might as well jump to the point. Your victim was Marianna DiLuca." He paused, gesturing wildly to her body that was covered modestly with a starch white sheet. "She's covered in bruises, head to toe, as well as lacerations around just her wrists."

"Any burn or stab marks?" Hotch asked as Dr Esarra paused to show her wrists.

"Burns, a few. They looked like old burns from cigarettes though. Like someone had put out cigarettes on the back of legs and upper arms. There were a few new ones on her hands though." Bella leaned forward, staring intently at the marred hands in front of her that still have a perfect manicure on them.

"But no knife wounds?"

"None."

"What was the cause of death?" Bella asked as she straightened up from her lowered position.

"Blunt force trauma to the back of the head."

"You sure? Was a tox screen done?"

"Bella! I'm insulted. Of course I ran a toxicology test. Her BAC was .10 and her poor liver has seen better days. No signs of any drug abuse, recreational or otherwise."

Hotch let out a long sigh. "Well she's not one of ours."

"I'll hand her off to someone else. Your teams should be back within the hour. Local deli sandwiches good for your team? The nearest one has mastered the perfect BLT."

A/N: Thanks for staying with me everyone. I know chapters have been few and far between and although I can't guarantee this will change any time soon I do promise that I will finish this story.