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At the Hoover building
Reid eyed the suspect through the one way mirror. Although he was angry at Marcus Zane for injuring Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, and Morgan, he couldn't help but feel a little relieved that Zane had been frisked for any possible weapons. The criminal was still spewing curses, seemingly not weakened by the fact that he had been shot. He seemed to be on the verge of breaking his handcuffs.
Rossi stood next to him. He nodded, as if Reid had spoken to him. "I feel that way, too. I'm sure Dr. Sweets does as well."
Sweets nodded in confirmation. "But we can't focus on that. We have to put this guy behind bars, and we have to overcome that fear in order to help our friends and coworkers."
Rossi smirked. "Spoken like a true psychologist."
"Spoken like a profiler," Sweets shot back, his face plastered with an innocent smile.
Rossi gave him a smile that showed respect. "Touché."
With that little exchange to lighten the mood, the three profilers made their way to the interrogation room.
Rossi and Sweets sat across from Zane, as Reid stood behind them. Zane eyed all three of them with disgust.
Rossi caught that expression. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Zane?"
"Yeah," he straightened up in his seat and leaned over to the senior profiler. "You G-Men are all the same. Self-preserving bureaucrats." He spat out "bureaucrats" like it was a bad word.
"So you dislike the government?" asked Rossi, even though he knew the answer. Zane didn't deem this with a response, instead continuing to glare at all of them.
"Is it because the government sent you to war?" Sweets interjected.
Zane focused his scrutiny on him. "So, you G-Men can actually read. Yeah, they sent me to war. And look what they gave me in the hospital before sending me back." He lifted his pant leg to show off his prosthetic leg.
Reid spoke up. "Is that why you cut off parts of your victims to use as trophies?" he asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Zane smugly.
"We found pieces of each victim in a chest buried in Kyle Behr's crime scene," said Reid.
"Do you have any evidence that I was anywhere near that crime scene?" asked Zane.
"Our forensic anthropologist and one of the agents of the BAU can attest to following you to the clearing where you buried the chest," said Sweets.
"Oh….you mean, one who I set a tear-gas mechanism for and one whose arm I broke," said Zane. "That was fun," he smiled sadistically.
"Are you admitting it?" asked Rossi.
"No," he said with a sneer. "I read it in the newspaper."
"Really? So you can read. Were you literate as a child?" asked Rossi.
"What are you getting at?" snarled Zane.
"I'm sure that you read your parents' obituaries," Rossi continued nonchalantly.
"Yes," said Zane, his temper rising. "So?"
"So you had to live with your uncle," said Sweets, noting the way Zane's fist clenched at the mention of his relative.
"So?" repeated Zane. "What does this have to do with the murders?"
"What's interesting is that there are reports of child services responding to 911 calls of domestic abuse, but they found nothing. Why is that?" asked Reid.
Zane spoke through clenched teeth. "My uncle…pretended that I was a juvenile delinquent who loved to make prank calls and do practical jokes. Then he offered them refreshments and sent them away…like nothing happened."
"And then what happened?" prodded Sweets, sensing that Zane needed no more encouragement to talk.
"He sent me away to join the military. I was glad to be away from that horrid house. But then…I got this," he motioned to his prosthetic leg, "and when I got back, and finally had the experience to kill someone and get away with it, I find out that my uncle is dead! But this doesn't prove that I killed all of those people!"
"Actually, it does," said Reid. "Your uncle's death was what triggered you to start killing, so you can release all of the rage you felt about your uncle. You killed people who looked like and worked as artists, because they reminded you of your uncle, who dabbled in 19th century styles of painting."
"And you felt that it was unfair that you had to have your leg amputated after all you had been through in your life, so you cut off parts of your victims," continued Rossi.
"And how you killed tells us that you were from the military," finished Sweets. "We found all of the evidence at your house. CSI's bagging it right now, and once it's analyzed, it will prove your guilt."
Zane cursed vehemently for several minutes. A few seconds after he had wasted all of his energy, Sweets turned to Reid. "Did you catch any of that?"
Reid was about to reply that he had an eidetic memory, so now he had more vocabulary to add to his memory bank, but he realized it was a joke. "Nope," he replied with a smile.
"Me either," said Rossi. He turned to Zane. "So can we take that as a confession?"
Zane spat in his direction. "You missed," said Rossi, indifferently. He forced Zane to get up, and shoved him in the direction of an officer. "Have fun in prison!" He said in a mock cheerful tone.
He turned to Sweets and Reid. "Let's go tell the others the good news."