Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I usually do my replies before posting, but I've just taken my migraine meds which means I'm going to be out of it for an hour or so, and I really wanted to post this! So I'll be replying very shortly.
Thank you to Kim, Watchteoftv, Laura and Sophie for their reviews!
Thank you to Chiroho for the beta and to Kavi Leighanna for the read through.
Humanity
"All of us are guinea pigs in the laboratory of God. Humanity is just a work in progress"
- Tennessee Williams
Chapter Ten
The room was crammed full of officers of varying ranks, all looking with interest at the group of FBI agents standing at the front. A couple of them were checking through notes; the youngest had his hands in his pockets and was looking more relaxed than the man who seemed to be in charge.
Officer Ryan White looked at them with cautionary interest. He'd been subject to an investigation with a profile of the UnSub a couple of years ago, and it had been helpful, but it had been a college professor who'd written it. He wondered how much different this one would be, and whether it would help them narrow down the number of haystacks they were looking in. He'd been working as a cop for nearly eleven years and loved his job. And he loved his city and state too. Having someone wander round attacking the elderly was not the kind of thing he wanted to be associated with Utah.
"You think this is going to help?" Officer Adam Wyatt said, standing next to White. "Or is it just something else to slow us down?"
White shrugged. Adam had only been his partner for two years, and he was still a rookie cop. He was a good kid, quick to learn, good at following instructions but could also use his initiative. "Make your own mind up at the end of the case," White said. "And keep that mind as open as you can with all that cotton wool in there."
A quiet chuckle came from Adam. He had a sense of humour, thankfully; otherwise White wasn't sure how long he'd have lasted, working with him. "The girls are pretty ones," Adam said, casting an eye over the two ladies who were standing at the front. "Last time I saw a female feeb she looked more like Attila the Hun than..."
"You any idea what Attila the Hun looked like?" White said, turning towards him.
Adam shrugged. "I know she was pretty gruesome."
"Sometimes I wonder what they teach you in school these days. Attila the Hun was a man, for a start, and if I was you, I'd stop staring or you might find yourself slapped with a sexual harassment suit. Or one of them'll blow your balls off," White warned. Adam had a point though; they were a good looking bunch in general. His wife, who had an interest in pop psychology and would grill him for every possible detail of the profile when he got home, had a thing about David Rossi, even though he was old enough to be her father. The chief, Aaron Hotchner, looked older than he should, his eyes not missing anything, including the brunette who was standing close by. White smiled. He knew he was observant, one of the reasons his bosses had encouraged him to try for promotion on several occasions, but he liked what he did and he didn't like politics. He doubted anyone else in the room would notice the looks that lasted a little too long between the boss and the brunette whose name he hadn't caught.
White rested against the wall as Hotchner looked to be ready to start. He had wondered if it would be Rossi doing the talking, seeing as he had the 'name' that a lot of the officers would recognise, but Rossi was sitting down, watching his colleagues with interest, but seemingly not taking part in whatever they were getting ready for.
The room hushed, a few lasting murmurs being shot down by Barry's glare. The boss was a nice guy, but he didn't think twice about showing you up if you were doing something he didn't like.
"What we are about to go through is a preliminary profile of the person you are looking for in connection with the rapes and murders of five elderly victims. This profile is by no means conclusive, and its preliminary status means we shall be adding more detail to it over the next day or more," Hotchner's voice was calm and steady. There was no sign of nerves at speaking to such a large group of officers who weren't all entirely sold in profiling to begin with, but then White supposed that this team were used to this, probably doing it weekly.
The black fed stepped forward. His manner and stance were that of a beat cop rather than someone who had a fairly high FBI ranking, and White wondered what his background was. "We're looking for a white male between the ages of 25 and 40. He is more likely to be in his mid to late thirties, but we cannot discount someone slightly older or younger than that. The man you are looking for is intelligent and may have had a college education, although the background he is from is more likely to be associated with being working class. He will have had a disrupted childhood, and may have been brought up by one set of his grandparents. He will have been a quiet child, academically bright, but socially awkward, preferring to spend time alone than with his peers, except for a few choice friends who will have also been seen as being 'odd' in some way."
The brunette glanced at her boss before speaking. She was attractive, White had to give Adam that, but she was a little too thin for his taste, although his wife would have been envious of her figure. "As an adult, he will be intelligent enough to conceal any social awkwardness, holding down a regular job that is probably office based. You are not looking for a manual worker. The letters he has written to his victims, their families and George Mulliner show someone who is eloquent and manipulative with words. Our UnSub will be unmarried and he will live alone. He may have made up a story about a previous relationship, but this is unlikely as he will not have the empathy needed to sustain a long-term, or even mid-term, relationship. He possibly uses prostitutes, and if so, his proclivities will be very straight forward, no frills sex." White felt a little awkward at an attractive woman discussing sex in such away, although he could see that several of his colleagues were captivated, including Adam.
"How do they know stuff like that?" Adam whispered, his eyes still on her.
"It's based on other similar cases they've worked and other killers they've studied," White said, noticing Barry's colleague, Detective Burrows, staring at him. "You should ask them. Maybe they could profile what you'd be like in bed, if a woman ever took enough pity on you."
"He will have had a religious upbringing," Hotchner took over. "Which is not unusual for this state. However, it is unlikely he is affiliated with the LDS Church. He perceives himself as having a connection with George Mulliner, who was a member of the New Church of Saints, a small, but passionately followed denomination. We are pursuing a link there. However, these killings are not religiously motivated. We believe that our UnSub has a hit list of victims pertaining to his youth. He is not striking out at random. If this is correct, then we can also tell that our UnSub moved about the state frequently, and also lived on the Utah/Nevada border at some point, as two further attacks that fit the MO have been discovered. The first task for many of you will be to further investigate and interview friends and relatives of his victims, so we can draw up a clear time line of their lives. There is no apparent connection between any of them at present, but somewhere in their pasts they have met the UnSub."
"So this is good, ole' fashioned detective work," White said. "Because unless we get out noses to the ground and find something, the links between the victims will become clearer when we get more of them." Adam nodded, his eyes still mesmerised by the brunette.
The blonde girl was introduced as the media liaison officer by Hotchner, and she stepped forward looking more confident than someone of her age should do. "In cases like this we need to manipulate the media to our own advantage. Some of the heat on the case has been reduced due to a scandal surrounding a celebrity, but that is only going to last for so long. If you are approached by any journalists, please say as little as possible and refer them to myself and I will issue them with a statement. It is possible that the UnSub can be antagonised further by what is reported on television and in the press. At the moment he sees himself as carrying out a mission. If he becomes demonised, his actions and urges may escalate and he may begin killing at random and with greater frequency. We stand more chance of catching him with minimal loss if he does not face another stresser."
"Are there any questions? We realise we haven't yet been able to give you more than the barest of sketches at present. Before we can do that, we need to know everything you can find out about his victims; that's where we'll find out more about him," Hotchner said, looking around the room. White wondered if he was profiling the cops in there, seeing who was likely to be a liability and who would be useful.
"How can you tell us about the killer's sex life?" a cop from Utah County shouted out. White raised an eyebrow at Adam who was still transfixed on the brown haired profiler.
It was Adam's crush who spoke. "We use information we've learnt from other cases and criminals. The fact that our UnSub here is unlikely to have sustained a relationship means that he will have no need for sex emotionally. It will be a solely physical urge that can be satisfied by anonymous partners. Although there is a strong possibility he may have been sexually abused as a child, he associates sex with power. When he rapes his victims he is taking power over them. He will not have any fetishes or ask prostitutes to carry out unusual fantasies. For him, sex is like going food shopping; you do it because you have to."
A few raucous comments were made about various officers wanting to be profiled and one shouted out that he wished his wife would take as much interest in sex as she did in food shopping, which provoked a barrage of abuse for the officer. It was all good natured, done to alleviate the horror of the case they were dealing with. You had to have a sense of humour; else you'd be eaten up by what you saw and heard.
"Do you have any idea of what county he lives in?" Another question few across the room and everyone fell silent, waiting for the answer.
"At present, we don't," Hotchner said. "We use something called geographical profiling, but this is only relevant when the attacks are random. Here we have an UnSub who has a list of people. He is locating the, stalking them over a period of weeks, and then attacking. He could potentially live anywhere in the state. Any more questions?"
"How long before he kills again?"
The tall agent who looked little more than a kid stepped up. He and Rossi hadn't said anything yet, and White wondered why. "The gaps between each attack are becoming shorter, so it's likely that the thrill of each attack isn't lasting as long as the previous one. However, part of the MO is a period of stalking beforehand, where the UnSub sends the victims postcards which we believe to be of Utah's National Parks. Only one of these postcards has survived, as they appear to contain revelations of the victims past that they would rather not remember. It's likely there will be another attack within the next month, if we haven't caught him before then."
"If you have any more questions about the profile then please don't hesitate to ask me or any of my team. We will be briefing you again when we have a clearer picture of why his victims have been targeted," Hotchner said, before turning to the object of Adam's affections and opening a discussion with her.
"So," White said, looking at Adam's still mesmerised features. "You going to go speak to her?"
Adam looked halfway to being horrified. "I don't think that would be a good idea. The profile seemed okay, but it's not what I was expecting."
White shrugged. "It's a preliminary profile. They've only been here a little over a day and they've said that what they need to be able to be able to pinpoint the killer is more information on his victims. Once they have that, they'll give us a better idea of who we're looking for."
"I hope so," Adam stopped leaning on the wall and stretched. "My great-aunt's in a care home ten miles from here, and this case has made me drive passed her place every night for the last four weeks. If I'm not careful, they'll be thinking the UnSub's me and I'll be arrested."
"I think not," White said, shaking his head. "They said the UnSub was smart. That discounts you straight away."
Adam gave him a dramatic glare and walked towards Detective Barry who was now issuing instructions. This was the type of work White enjoyed; speaking to people, asking the right questions and finding out. It was also what he thought he was good at, and with any luck, his input might help to put a bad guy behind bars.
"Agent Jareau!"
JJ turned around and looked at the woman who had come after her. She was tall, but her years had given her extra weight that no amount of police work was going to shed. Not when you had one of the nicest delicatessens ever next door to your station, which was precisely where JJ was heading right now.
"Can I help you?" It was a moot question. If the woman was seeking her out, then she was going to be of some use somehow, but it was a good opener.
"I'm Angela Thomas. I'm based here in Salt Lake and I worked the two cases here," she was still a little out of breath. "It's about the media – one hack in particular."
JJ's stomach rumbled forebodingly.
"Sorry – I'm stopping you from getting your breakfast. You going to McNab's?" The woman looked apologetic, as if she had almost stopped the country from trading.
JJ put a hand to her stomach and nodded. "Ever since I had my son, I have to eat regularly. I don't know how he did it, but he sure changed my internal clock!"
The woman laughed. "I'll walk there with you. Might get a bacon baguette myself. I'm Officer Thomas, but everyone here calls me Dol – short for Dolores which is my middle name," she held out a hand, a signifier of the time she'd spent in a male dominated workforce. JJ took it, almost instantly liking this woman. "I was like that after having my first. Needed to eat almost as often as he did. My second curbed my enthusiasm for food, and my third drove me to the calories, but that was after she turned sixteen. How old's yours?"
"Ten months," JJ said, feeling a pang of homesickness. She'd spoken to Henry and Will an hour ago, but it hadn't been the same as actually being there. "He's just started to walk." Luckily she'd been there for that, the first time he'd clambered up onto his legs and taken a step towards the cat that had been lying rather obliviously in front of the fire. He hadn't gotten very far; the shock and fear of being on his own two feet had sent him toppling to the ground.
"Nice age. It's all downhill from there," the twinkle in Dol's eyes said otherwise and JJ smiled at the older lady as they left the building through one of the side exits. "Anyways, you deal with the hacks and journalists who come knocking for information. You come across a real smoothie named Savage yet?"
The name hit JJ almost as hard as the bracing cold that had descended on the city. "James Savage? Salt Lake Evening News?"
"That's the one. He's quite a cutie, or would like to think he is. He came to see me a few days ago, just after it became news that you Feds were on your way," Dol said, leading JJ into the deli. "He tried his usual tactics to get me to slip him some information, but he got my usual spiel back, with a few additional references to his manhood. All in jest – at least he thinks. Anyways, he said something that made my ears prick up. Hey, Jessie, can you make us two coffees while we wait for your slow ass to get the bacon on!" she shouted across the shop.
"You watch that mouth of yours, Dol. I swear it's getting more like a sewer in there. I'll make your coffee good and strong – might disinfect a few diseases!" Jessie hollered back, looking not a day younger than seventy. "And what about the girl there? She needed some lunch to take with her to school?"
Dol laughed loudly. "This is a Federal Agent, Jess, so you better hide your good stuff. We'll sit over there. What d'you want for your breakfast, Miss Jareau?"
"I guess a ham and egg baguette, with ketchup," JJ said, thankful that the place had only a few people in it. The breakfast rush had died down now.
They sat in a corner, the coffees arriving almost immediately. "What did Savage say?" JJ said, adding sugar to her coffee. Her curiosity was seriously piqued. She'd said to Rossi that he had information from somewhere, and she doubted it was from Dol Kaye.
Dol raised an eyebrow. "He mentioned the silver rings that were turning up everywhere, and if we'd figured out why yet. I think my expression must have given me away, because I didn't know jack about any silver rings. So if I didn't know about it, how come he did?"
JJ sunk her head into her hand. "Agent Rossi and I wondered yesterday if the UnSub had been in touch with Savage. The questions he was asking showed that he knew more than what's been released to the media. What's Savage been like in the past?"
"Desperate to escape the grime of the Evening News and make his name as a crime reporter. What he doesn't seem to realise is that he'd get further quicker if he didn't irritate the shit out of the cops. We caught him snooping around the bullpen one night, trying to find the files we had on a local thief who was pinching women's panties, so we stuck him in cell number nine." She smiled at the memory. "Anyways, his reporting's generally accurate, he doesn't make stuff up, unlike some in the past, and he never criticises the local PD - Just politicians, and I can live with that."
"So he's basically young and ambitious, but without a clue on how to progress. How easily scared is he?"
Dol laughed. "Stick him in a room with that unit chief of yours and he'll be quaking in his own mess. I think most of the cops in that room would be, come to think of it," she said, surprising JJ.
"Really? Hotch is..."
"Rather scary when you don't know him. I saw the glare he threw one of my lot when they made an inappropriate comment. Anyway, here comes your breakfast – get it eaten before we get interrupted with another crisis!"
November 1979
Herriman,
Salt Lake County, Utah
He'd never played with Lego before, and he was sure that Grandfather would disapprove if he saw him. But he wasn't here, he was at home in Willow Springs while Nana made a visit to a friend. Lee wasn't sure if Grandfather approved of Nana having friends, but that didn't seem to stop her. She was the only person he'd ever seen arguing with his Grandfather and that made her a super hero in his eyes. He just wondered why she couldn't argue with him when Grandfather was hurting Lee. Why she pretended she didn't know.
Still, at the moment he didn't mind, because he was getting to play with Lego. He'd made an airplane, copying it from a set of instructions that used to belong to Mrs Norwood's son. He was called Eric, and Lee had never met Eric. He liked his Lego though. He wondered if Nana would bring him to see Eric one day, and they could play together. Build things. Maybe Eric would even lend Lee the Lego to take home for a week, or even a few days.
Lee picked up the plane and began to zoom it around the room, imagining himself as some remote controller in charge of everything. He moved the plane a little wildly, pretending it was about to plunge into some enemy's spacecraft and then his arm knocked into something and he felt heat sear through his sweater and onto his skin.
"Pull his sweater off!" he heard his Nana's friend shout as his tears began to fall as in a storm. The plane was now on the floor, its wings having become fragments of Lego, but all he was really noticing was the pain along his arm. "You go get the first aid kit from the bathroom."
He saw his Nana hesitate. "He's got bruises and cuts all over him," Nana said. "He looks like a battered child, but he's just clumsy."
"Go, go get the kit!" Elsie pulled off the sweater and Lee screamed at the sting of cold air on burning flesh. "It's not that bad, honey," she said. "Some cream with some bandages on top will help."
Her eyes drew along the scars and cuts that were fracturing his torso and he felt acutely embarrassed about them. No one ever saw him without his top on. Apart from Grandfather, and sometimes Nana. But no one else.
"These aren't all cuts from being clumsy," Elsie said. "You been getting a beating for being in trouble?"
He shook his head, looking at the door to see if Nana was near. Did he want to tell Elsie who gave him the cuts and the bruises? If he did, what would happen? And if he didn't, what would happen too? "My Grandfather says he's making a man of me."
"Does he now?" Elsie said. "What does your Nana say about that?"
"Nothing," Lee said, looking at the floor. "She never says nothing."
And neither did Elsie. But she should have.
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