Disclaimer: Same disclaimer (unfortunately) still applies.
A/N: Many thanks to all my faithful reviewers.
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Hotch and the rest of the team arrived at the precinct at 6:00 am, looking worse for wear. Reid had called Garcia and she was getting him all the information she could on Muriel Dressler, he informed Hotch when the sleep deprived group filed into the conference room. Each of the team members examined the picture of Muriel Dressler against the sketch provided by Fletcher Bancroft. The likeness was undeniable.
"Reid, this could just be a coincidence that these two women look something alike," Hotch cautioned the team's youngest member.
"Coincidence! Hotch look at them. Take away the hair and it's more than a likeness." Reid pointed at the photo and the sketch on the table.
"Hotch, you gotta admit, it is pretty close," Morgan interjected, "Especially since the kid probably didn't even know what Muriel Dressler looked like. It's not like he's seen pictures of her or anything."
Hotch looked at Reid, noting a thoughtful expression on his face and that he had suddenly gone quiet. "Reid," Hotch asked suspiciously, "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing Hotch," Reid replied absently.
"Reid," Hotch was more forceful with his tone.
"Okay, Fletcher saw that picture of Dressler," Reid replied reluctantly.
"Where was this," Emily asked.
"Here at the precinct."
"When was this," Emily asked again?"
"When we were coming back from the vending machines. He saw all the pictures and asked who they were. But all we did was pass by them. I never told him who anybody was. I actually had to grab him out of the way because a couple of officers came by with a detainee who was struggling and I didn't want Fletcher to get hurt," Reid explained.
The team's heads bowed as a group and their shoulders sagged. Hotch put two fingers on the bridge of his nose and winced as if to stave off a headache.
"So Reid," Rossi stated, "What you're telling us is, before Fletcher gave his description to the sketch artist, just minutes before, I might add," Rossi's voice rose with each word, "He saw a picture of Muriel Dressler. Not only did he see her picture but he saw it when he was being pulled out of the way of a struggling prisoner, when his adrenaline would have kicked in. What are the effects of adrenaline on memory?"
"Tunnel vision, thus enhancing visual concentration" Reid said quietly.
"And," JJ added. "What aren't you saying?"
"The memories become more vivid," Reid concluded, speaking as fast as he could.
"Oh Reid," Hotch's tone was a mixture of anger and sympathy. "You know what that means don't you? We can't rely on this sketch."
"Oh well isn't that just great. No wonder nobody recognized her," Morgan erupted.
"I don't think that's necessarily true. Fletcher scored high on serial and parallel processing. His description is probably accurate as to what he saw," Reid argued.
"Yeah Reid, it's obviously very accurate," Emily said, holding up the picture and the sketch, "But is this what he saw through his telescope or two minutes before he was called to give his description. You know what a lawyer will make out of this."
"Reid, we have no choice," Rossi spelled out sadly. "The sketch is suspect now. We have to disregard it."
Reid looked dejected. "What about a line up," he asked.
"You want us to ask the deputy commissioner to be part of a line up," Morgan said with disbelief. "Well, it'd be the first time we'd be laughed out of town."
"That would be no good anyway," Emily stated. "In his mind, Fletcher's decided who it is and he's seen her picture. He'd be predisposed to pick her."
"Especially with his high level of serial and parallel processing, whatever the hell that is," JJ added.
"But…" Reid uttered.
"No buts Reid," Hotch said, "Let's just hope this hasn't done some real damage."
"What damage, we were nowhere any…" Reid's cell rang. "I've got to take this." Reid left the conference room as the team collectively shook their heads.
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The phone beside his bed rang. He opened his eyes and looked through a fuzzy haze at the clock. Who the hell would be calling him at this time? His hand fumbled around until it grasped the receiver and brought it to his ear. "H'lo," his only half conscious mind droned.
"Mickey," said the sharp female voice of his nightmares.
Mickey's eyes opened and he became instantly alert. "Jeez Louise, do you know what time it is?"
"Of course I do Mickey, it's precisely 6:32 am and time for you to get up," said the authoritative voice that was used to giving orders and having them followed. "I have a job for you."
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"Hi Garcia, what have you got for me," he asked when he was in the deserted hallway.
"Okay, Muriel Dressler, born Muriel Findlay, June 7th, 1959 in Lincoln, Nebraska. Nothing of note in her childhood. Graduated high school with honors. Came to San Francisco to attend the University of San Fran and received a degree in criminology. She then went into the police academy. She started as a beat cop, promoted to sergeant, then detective, then lieutenant. Good record on the force, three commendations and two citations for bravery. Married at thirty-eight to Mackenzie Dressler." Reid stopped her.
"Garcia, is he the multimillionaire investment banker," he asked?
"The same, smarty pants. At forty-five she became an assistant in the commissioner's office and two years ago, deputy commissioner. She just became a widow, husband died of cancer."
That's all you got," Reid asked?
"That's all for now. When I get more, I'll call one of you," the computer tech informed him.
"Garcia, you better call me," Reid said tentatively.
"Why just you," Garcia asked suspiciously?
"It's complicated. Bye Garcia." Reid closed his cell phone.
Garcia looked at her babies. "What's that about?"
Reid returned to the conference room to find his teammates in a foul mood and Reid suspected he was about to make it worse. "Hotch, I think another prostitute has gone missing."
Hotch turned to look at Reid, "What, when?"
"Last night," Reid relayed to the team about Wendy Dillard's concerns for Nikki Duval. "She's really worried Hotch and from what she says, I think she has good reason to be. I got Sergeant Baskins to order a grid search of Union Square and SOMA, that's Nikki's usual territory."
"SOMA," JJ asked?
"South of Market," Reid replied. "Anyway, so far nothing has come from the grid search."
"The autopsy reports revealed that the five women were cut, tortured, over several days," Rossi recalled. "The first cuts were about three days old, so if she's sticking to her timeline we have less than three days to find this young woman before she's killed."